A post in which I find that sainthood is exhausting

I was up before the alarm went off at 6am.  I just went ahead and got up. 

I made coffee and girded my loins. 

I had a sweet text from Gary, telling me he was thinking about me. 

I went ahead and got ready and just headed out, after sending Eve a text to tell her I was on the way and would be on time.  It was Mother's Day, after all.  I gave her her card and pickles when I got to the house.  We loaded up the car and headed out.  Dad drove up, surprisingly, but since he got those new hips he's been in a lot better shape. 

I called Mother on the way up and told her happy Mother's Day.  Happily, my card had gotten to her yesterday.  She seemed in good spirits, and was getting ready for church with Lisa.

When we got to Wilkesboro, Grandma was really tickled to see me.  We gave her the presents we brought up, and I pinned on her orchid.  She chatted excitedly as Dad signed her out and Eve pulled the car around.  Lunch today was at Ruby Tuesday.  Although Wilkesboro boasts several new restaurants, RT's would take reservations.  Our server was super nice, and indeed everyone there was very understanding and did all they could to make our visit pleasant, which was all the more surprising since Mother's Day is such a crazy busy time for a restaurant.

Seeing Grandma was wonderful and terrible.  I was glad to see her, and I was glad to make her happy.  But it's terrible to see her in this state.  Her poor hands are twisted with rheumatoid arthritis to the point that they are almost useless.  We got her a cup with a lid, and I took the tails off her shrimp and cut them up.  On the one hand I wanted to help her eat, but on the other I didn't want to embarrass her.  She went through a long period that she wouldn't eat in a restaurant because she had such a hard time eating.  She chose food today that she could pick up with her hands if she had to.

By the end of the meal, she was frustrated enough with trying to manage the silverware to let me feed her.  She wanted chocolate cake, and I fed it to her.  Such a war of emotions.  On the one hand it made me glad that I could help her.  It touched me and made me feel protective and tender.  I felt so close to her.  But on the other side of that it broke my heart to pieces that she needed me to do that for her.  But it was mostly love.  She was like a baby bird.  We both laughed after I cut a too-big bite of cake, and she had to struggle to get it in her mouth; and then I just cut smaller bites, and it was OK.  She ate until she couldn't hold any more. 

After lunch we went to her house.  She doesn't get to go very often.  That too was sad.  It is important for her to know that her house is still there, but the state of it is pretty bad at this point.  The house hasn't been lived in for years.  The damp and mildew are getting to it.  I helped her go through her closet, pulling things out for her to look at, and sometimes she would just say "That's moldy."  She thanked me for going through it with her.  She said "You let me look and don't rush me."  She picked out a couple of blouses to take back with her, and a pair of pants.  I don't think she can even wear the pants, but that wasn't the point.  The point was that she got to decide, and had control.  My aunt and uncle take care of her most of the time, and she can be very fussy about what she wears.  I know that it can be very hard to try to please her.  But since I don't have that day-to-day responsibility I had patience to burn, and made sure that she got some of it today. 

She's still growing and changing.  At my age, I treasure firsts and surprises, and she gave me a big one today.  We were talking about life at the home, and she was relating that they had fussed at her for going to the door of her room to ask that someone come to help her to the bathroom.  "If you just turn the light on, we'll know." They told her.  "Well it would be a shame for me to sit here and shit my pants." She replied.  Had I been eating, I would have choked.  I have never in my life heard my Grandma Shumate, a lifelong faithful member of the Baptist Church and unofficial steel magnolia, ever use a dirty word.  But this new practicality has influenced other areas of her life.  When she told us that she needed to go to the bathroom, I told her I would help her.  She then asked me about my experience working in a nursing home when I was younger - she checked my resume before she agreed, and then she actually did allow me to help her.  I averted my eyes to protect her modesty, but this is something she would never have allowed even five years ago.  I guess after a while, undue modesty becomes an undue burden.  So while I hate that she had to compromise, I respect her finally doing so with aplomb, and on her own terms.

While we were at the house, I got her recipes that she wanted me to have.  Many of them are in her handwriting, and of course are doubly precious for that.  The only other thing I wanted from the house was my great grandmother's pickle crock.  It is actually a butter churn, but Grandma used it to make pickles.  Sadly, it has had a rough life. It's chipped up.  There is a large crack in it, and when I picked it up I was afraid it might come apart.  But it held.  I'll take it home and glue it back together some.  It won't be usable, but it will be stronger. 

By the time we got done at the house, and she had seen my aunt and uncle, my cousins, and my cousin Tonya's kids, she was wiped out.  I could tell how tired she was.  We took her back to the home, and I got her to her room.  The attendant came in, but despite the fatigue, she wouldn't lie down until after we left.  I pinned her corsage to the cork board by her bed, and gave her hugs and kisses, and then we left.  It had been a really good visit, and I know she really enjoyed it.  On the way out, I thanked the staff for being so good to her, and taking such good care of her.  As homes go, the Villages of Wilkes is a really great place.  She isn't a number there, and the people are kind. 

Dad was in a foul mood, as he usually is after he leaves her at the home.  We stopped for drinks (I was driving now) and we headed for home.  Eve hadn't had much of a Mother's Day.  She had been in the car all day, which is hard for her, and had to help my grandmother with the potty chair.  I felt bad for her.  We started talking about where she wanted to go for dinner, and I kind of buffered Dad a little, because he was in an ill mood.  After going by several places that were obviously packed to the rafters, we actually ended up just driving back to Greenville and going to Capri's.  Our waitress was super nice, and we had a nice dinner.  Dad came out of his funk some, and it was pretty pleasant. 

I dropped them at their place, and took some strawberries from Eve.  I loaded the car with my stuff and gratefully went home.  When I got in, I just got ready for bed.  I was absolutely worn out.  I did call Gary and talked to him for a few minutes, and then turned in.  Tomorrow it's back to work...