Filing through the wall

Drawing hands is always a lesson in frustration. This drawing is not one I'm proud of. My goal is to create the gnarled appearance using only line, no shadow. Will need a lot more practice.

Here are a couple of artisit quotes that helped me through this painful exercise:

"At times I fancied I knew how to draw, at times saw that I knew nothing. During the third winter I even realized that I probably never would learn how to paint. I thought of sculpture and started engraving. I have always been on good terms with music."
Paul Klee in his diary, 1901.

"What is drawing? How does one come to it? It is working through an invisible iron wall that seems to stand between what one feels and what one can do. How is one to get through that wall -- since pounding at it is of no use? In my opinion one has to undermine that wall, filing through it steadily and patiently."
Vincent Van Gogh to his brother Theo, 22 October 1882

Mom has settled into a loose fetal position. She likes to have her legs bent and her hands tightly closed. It's painful and upsetting to her when her hands have to be slightly uncurled to be washed. In this picture her hand is resting on a pillow that is tucked under her arm, giving her some support and comfort.

She told Barbara last night that Bill (my dad) was in the room, standing in the corner. That gave me chills. After Dad died (and before Mom developed dementia), she told me that Dad would sometimes come visit her in their bedroom. She cautiously told me this, adding that she didn't want me to think that she was nuts. He would come and stand in the room for a minute or two, not saying anything, and then would leave. I believed her, although I'm not inclined toward the supernatural, and I believe she saw him last night.

Barbara

This is Barbara who is a wonderful caretaker of Mom. She asked me to sketch her so she could send it back home to her family. She moved here a few months ago from Saipan, leaving behind two daughters, her husband, and a family that she is very close to. Barbara is a very sweet soul and takes good care of Mom. She's told me about her mother's legendary donuts, which are sold at the family shop. That may explain the sweetness!

Speaking of yummy things, here is a photo of my grandpa's watermelon's. He was so proud of their size, he posed his little Anna Ruth next to them for comparison of height. Yes, that's Mom. It's the only photo I've ever seen of her as a child. Back to watermelons, Grandpa guarded the patch with a shotgun and would not hesitate to fire a shot. The local high school boys made a sport of trying (unsuccessfully, according to Grandpa) to steal the prized Templer watermelons.

Friday's sketch

When I touched Mom's arm with my cold hand, her eyes got big as she said in her typical way, "I'm gonna hit you". Mom had returned for a moment. Another surprise: when I asked her if I could sktech her, she said, "Sure, just like you did yesterday". Amazing! When I show her photos of her mom and dad and ask her if she knows them, she says she doesn't, but sometimes the old brain makes some connections.
Here's a photo of her parents, Molly and Ed. Grandma made the most delicious pies and rolls I've ever tasted. Doesn't she look like a fabulous baker? Grandpa was full of old-timer stories. He once told me that Oklahoma was pretty wild in the early statehood days, and that he never had to shoot a man. It felt remarkable that he found that story remarkable. How often were men shot and what on earth had he witnessed?

2nd sketch

Mom was very alert today and talked more than she has in quite some time. The smile on her face was wonderful to see. She was very, very close to death about 6 weeks ago and has been receiving hospice care (Evergreen Hospice, which has been so generous and supportive). Somehow she has managed to overcome some amazing obstacles and grows stronger everyday.

She absolutely hates to be moved and lashes out and curses like a sailor. This is one way that dementia presents itself in her. So, she stays in bed all day which isolates her and in the long run, will not give her the strength to fight off the next bladder infection or after-effects of her reoccurring seizures. A constant question: is it better to let her lay in bed, isolated and losing muscle strength, or have her go ballistic while getting her into a wheelchair?

First Sketch

This blog is an extension of a communication tool I devised for my mother who has dementia. Mom, Ann, age 84, is residing in an adult family home near my home. She doesn't talk much and I keep running out of things to say. So, I thought it might be interesting to sketch her when I visit, while chatting and generally keeping her company for a bit of time each day. She's confined to bed now and is fairly lonely in her room alone so I try my best to drop in as often as possible.

Today she was in a good mood and ate all the ice cream I fed her. We had a nice time together.

The most difficult part of having a parent with dementia, for me, is feeling satisfied with how much I'm helping her. Should I insist that her caretakers get her out of bed, even though Mom hates it? Is she getting enough meds to help with pain? She can't answer those questions for me, so it's a guessing game. One that I don't like to play.