Taking Care of Mama
With Grace and Grit
by
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The lift chair in which she sat during most of the day allowed her to lie back and see over much of the living area and into the kitchen and back yard, while keeping her feet and legs elevated. Then she began to see people and strange things going on in the back yard. She refused to believe us when we attempted to explain to her that it was only because of her failing eyesight that she"thought" she was seeing those things. She had forgotten that the hedge behind her house had flowers on it but not berries. Her reality had changed. Mama could be very stubborn, and I had trouble dealing with such matters as men sitting in the trees, people picking berries that weren't there, and white cats running around the back yard. I went outside to look but saw no cat. Also, she constantly criticized the sitters about their weight and their attitudes, when it was really her attitude that was problematic. She was very serious one day when she asked me: "Ruby, why do people want to be fat?" Of course I tried to explain to her that no one wants to be fat. Sometimes we make wrong food choices or take medications that cause weight gain. For some people it is a matter of genetics. I also reminded her that she was taking medicines to help her with some of those problems, including thyroid meds; and if I had a sweet tooth like she did, and ate fried chicken as often as she wants it, I would be even bigger than I was at that time. "Do you really think that I would be the size I am if I could just choose to be slimmer, Mama?" I asked. She knew that I constantly watched what I ate and avoided certain things because of allergies and stomach problems. Mama's reasoning was not what it should be, but she had always been overly critical of people, especially women. That had been a point of contention between my mother and me for as long as I could remember. When you grow up with constant criticism from the one person from whom you expect approval and support, well ... it really does not promote self-esteem or contentment. My father was a very loving man. No one had to wonder whether they were loved by him. Kind and generous, he truly treasured his family. he especially loved children and carried chewing gum in his shirt pocket for any he might meet on the street in our small town where everyone knew him. Over my lifetime, many extended family members lived with us or received financial help from my dad. Widows in town and local ministers received vegetables from his garden, along with anyone whom my father thought might be in need. Mama was a good Christian woman who had been raised to work hard and expect the same of others. She held firm beliefs and was stubborn about what she perceived as right and wrong. She believed that men were usually right and women usually wrong (except herself, I suppose). Women were made to serve men, or at the very least, to try to keep them happy; girls should always be ladies, and boys should be allowed to be boys. None of those ideas set well with this stubborn tomboy-of-a-girl. I fought against that double standard all my growing up years and even into adulthood. She just had a way of pushing my buttons!
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About the Book
Many older adults are spending their golden years taking care of a spouse, elderly parent, or other relative. My book tells one such story—the story of a four-year journey my siblings and I took when our very independent mother had cancer surgery at age ninety. It tells of her resistance to some of her helpers and our struggles trying to have a normal life while caring for her. It tells also of the difficult decisions made on her behalf, especially that final decision to place her in a nursing facility. Two sisters born a decade apart to the same woman felt they were raised by different mothers. The older sister felt treated like a distant relative in the home but with responsibility for the care and behavior of the younger two, while the younger sister was the baby of the family and loved by all. It tells of the double standard prevalent in the South during the first five decades of the twentieth century and how proper Southern ladies were expected to conduct themselves. My story also reveals how someone who felt she was not cared for by her mother can find the courage and stamina to care for that mother when she can no longer care for herself. Research done after the fact is recorded to encourage and help the readers experience less confusion and heartache, and to have an easier time with care taking and decision making if any have to take a similar journey.
About the Author
Ruby Britt was raised in a small town in South Georgia during the 1940s and ’50s, when girls were expected to act like little ladies in spite of their desire to climb trees, play ball, and ride horses, like the boys. Those were times when children were expected “to be seen but not heard,” mind their elders, do their chores, and never talk back. Well, Ruby had a problem with the “never talk back” part, and she did not like the double standard as to gender. Her mother never really talked to her during her childhood but expected much from her. Because of her silenced childhood, she began to write. She composed poems and even converted a seventh-grade history lesson into a school skit that was performed for the entire school body. After an early marriage and four children, Ruby began a career with the United States Postal Service, while her husband farmed. After their two older girls left for college, Ruby was finally able to begin her own college education. Then, after a hurtful congregational split within her home church, she began to write poetry again and later authored a family history, self-help inspirational book on self-esteem and a two-volume collection of poems, essays, and funny things her grandchildren had said and done. She has poems published in many anthologies and is a distinguished member of International Society of Poets and member of National Association of Postmasters of United States. After retiring from the USPS, Ruby worked four years with a local newspaper as a writer and reporter until after her husband died. She later went back to work as city clerk for her hometown while helping to care for her mother.