Settled is a word I would use to describe how a bird completes the building of her nest, and settles peacefully for the long-haul, awaiting the hatching of her eggs. Well, that’s like us...sort of. The preparation for Mom’s move to our home is complete. Furniture has been rearranged, closets cleared, prescriptions transferred and a new doctor established. But...our garage tells a different story. Stacks and stacks of boxes surround the perimeters begging to be opened and explored. But, what the heck, I figure if we’ve lived without them for two weeks, we can probably live without them indefinitely. Delicate treasures have already been unwrapped and placed on shelves, clothes hung and drawers filled. So what is so vital to our existence that compels me to look further? Probably nothing, I decide. I remember from our packing there is an assortment of tissue boxes and various size baggies that I could use, but I don’t have the courage - or time - to dig through those boxes. Wal-mart is just down the street, and I’d much rather buy a box of tissues than spend hours digging to find one. Establishing a routine has been a bit of a challenge since there are so many priorities. Baths to give, hair to curl, medications to dispense, meals to prepare and laundry to be done. And I haven’t even mentioned house cleaning or the assortment of used napkins, cough drop wrappers and other clutter that routinely must be picked up and disposed of (Mom is a compulsive saver of everything—including used napkins and assorted wrappers.) My flexible schedule has suddenly become quite rigid. But, more importantly, I have learned the art of giving Mom a bath without her panicking when having to call my husband to help her from the tub. A bathrobe quickly thrown on her kept the humiliation at bay. The answer is a handicap stool that fits nicely in the tub, and I can use a small spray hose to wash Mom’s hair without causing her too much discomfort.
The thing I have noticed is how much Mom misses her friends at the assisted living facility. To compensate, she follows me from room to room with her walker, mostly for the company; but I’ve also discovered she still enjoys helping, in spite of her limitations. An armful of clothes to fold is just the ticket to keep her happy as she reclines on the sofa. She feels useful, and for a retired work-a-holic nurse and mom who loved to cook and clean for her family, this is important.
I've also discovered how much Mom still loves to go places, and remember in bygone days how often she and Dad would hop in the car and drive thirty miles to shop at larger stores just for the sake of adventure. So, even though it takes me three takes as long to accomplish the task - and I have to plan carefully - trips to the local supermarket for a loaf of bread or a quart of orange juice is an adventure for Mom. She loves to browse as we walk down an isle, and I’ve become accustomed to walking slower so she can keep up with her walker.
About the time we moved Mom here, her declining health took a positive turn, and we discovered the earlier problems were due to a new medication the doctor had prescribed. Thankful for this new information, and some time off the medicine, we've enjoyed a little more flexibility than what we had originally anticipated. Still, her memory is not so good, and it is necessary to issue constant reminders.
A highlight of my week came on Sunday when my son stopped for a two day visit on his way back from a diving job in Florida to his home in Washington. It was a wonderful reunion, no matter how brief, and we were all blessed by it,even my mother who had not seen her grandson for several years, yet still remembered him.
A few days ago, a nurse from a home health care provider came to meet Mom and assess her needs. A caregiver was then assigned which will provide some much needed time away for my husband and I, as well as a companion and assistant for Mom. This will allow us the capability of going to church together, attend other activities and run important errands.
Some days are more challenging than others,. Mom does not feel well much of the time, and she has developed some new symptoms that require us to see a neurologist as soon as possible. But, I am learning to be thankful for small things such as a beautiful flower she points out to me, or her smile of thanks after her hair is curled, or her pleasure of a favorite dessert that I’ve baked for her. And I’m looking forward to small outings such as a trip to the local garden center to purchase a flat of pansies for Mom to enjoy. 
