The Handyman, Part V

In honor of the Phoenix MS Walk the first weekend of November, I would like to share:

The Handyman, Part V

My mother loved her home and her home away from home and discussing them both. So Roy quickly became her favorite visitor. 

As a handyman, he had many of the same ideas and enjoyed talking to her about her planned projects.

By this time MS had taken her voice, so she could only softly whisper and click to communicate. 

For this reason we had given up our telephone conversations and instead our letter writing picked up. 

 I often heard about Roy through the letters my mother sent me. 

Roy, this amazing man who was willing to help her care for her home, seemed to be a regular visitor. Mother, even though in the nursing home, never forgot her other home. 

She often asked my father about things and remembered what needed to be taken care of.   

Now she had someone else she could talk to about the ready-to-leak roof, ready-to-rot back-steps and the way-out-of-date cabinets in the kitchen. 

She planned with Roy an entire makeover of the home where my father still resided. 

Father, of course, was less than enthusiastic. 

First, he was not one to enjoy disruption to his life; second, he was a bit nervous about how they would be able to afford such renovations. 

Mother had the answer: Roy would do the work for free! 

Now my father was even more skeptical. 

But Mother even more insistent.

Every time my father visited her, she’d ask about the house and if he’d called Roy. 

It was hard, if not impossible, to tell her ‘no.’ 

Finally Father caved. 

“Have him come by the house. I’ll talk to him,” Dad said exasperated.

My mother told Roy that her husband had finally come to his senses about the house and Roy could stop by. 

Dad had said Monday would be good. 

Mother made the arrangements and let my father know that Roy would be by Monday morning. Father waited all morning - no Roy. 

He had a good excuse, Mother said, but he could come by the following Thursday - again, no Roy. 

Dad decided to take matters into his own hands.

The Handyman, Part IV

 

In honor of the Phoenix MS Walk the first weekend of November, I would like to share:

The Handyman, Part IV

My mother was a woman of strong opinions. 

She became a confidant of many of the nursing home’s staff. 

They came to her, because she was mentally clear. 

She remembered everything and was always trying to help. 

Meddling? 

Yep. That’s what some would call it, but they came back for more. 

Even after they no longer worked at the home, they came back. Year after year to see her.

One woman worked for two years at the home. 

Soon after she began working there, she decided to bring in her three children and their pets for the residents to see. Bunnies, puppies, birds and kitties, the family loved animals and loved even more to share them. 

The children enjoyed the visits to the Grannies and Grampies. 

Mother was always delighted to see them. 

Each time they came she would have someone take a photo of them all together for her guest books. Each time those children came, they would bring her some art work which would hang in her room until the next visit. 

They were her adopted grandchildren and loved as much as her own. 

For eight years, they visited her twice a year. 

The children always reminding their mother when it was time to see her.

There were also the letter writers. Mother loved to send and receive letters, but unable to move a finger needed a letter writer. 

She had several that cycled through over the years. 

People that would pen a private note to me when they sent my letters so far away. 

People that would call when they were visiting the area where I lived, because after all, we were all family right? 

Mother assured them we were.

And then there was Roy.

Roy began visiting my mother in August of 2008.  

A handyman by trade, he came by the nursing home and they discussed home renovations. 

Mom quickly became enamored with Roy.

The Handyman, Part III

The Handyman continued.

We knew it was a difficult decision to put Mother in the nursing home. 

First she was very young – in her fifties – and most of the residents were much older, but Father was become too weary and the efforts to carry and caring for her had become too much. 

The nursing home was close by our home and she was encouraged by the large windows that overlooked a park.

Of course, the room had to be decorated. 

It was a good thing Mother was an expert in that department. 

Her room became her home away from home. 

She never forgot the larger one she’d left on Park Street, but also knew that change in life is a constant and accommodated.

 

Let’s be honest, decorating one room is not something that takes much time, so Mother had to fill her life with something else. 

Fill it she did. 

First, always a fan of basketball, Mother also became a fan of other sports. 

She watched golf whenever possible and knew all of the PGA players. 

And when I say knew, I mean knew. 

She knew their rankings, how much they made each year, the names of their family members and she tracked it all. She also followed her beloved Vikings each fall and watched tennis too.

Television though, took a back seat to helping people. Mother, from her bed in a nursing home, felt it was her destiny to help others.

I should mention that when Mother went into the nursing home she was no longer able to walk or move her arms. I

n fact, she only had control of her head and neck. 

This meant that to watch television she had to have a call button behind her head to signal an aide for help. 

Daily, the staff would sit her in a chair while they cleaned the sheets, but she did not have control enough to go anywhere.

So who did my mother see as the people who needed her help? 

Well, all the staff at the nursing home, of course.