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We have officially become part of the sandwich generation, whic includes those who are raising kids and taking care of elderly parents at the same time. I guess we have been in it for a while, but the sandwich metaphor is feeling particularly appropriate lately.

 Eleven days ago my father in law moved into assisted living here in San Francisco. To say it has been a rocky start would be a gross understatement. And not in the way you might expect, either. The problem is not with my father-in-law, who is about the nicest, most compliant man in the world. He is taking part in the activities and likes and converses with the other residents.  The problem is that the place he is living has made a series of errors that are making the transition more difficult. None of the individual issues is hugely problematic, but taken together, they are scaring all of us. And we are spending hours and hours every single day trying to smooth things over and keep the transition on track.

Yesterday for the first time we utilized the shuttle service to take Grandpa to the doctor. I met them there and arrived early so that I wouldn't miss them. Good thing too, because they arrived at 1:30 for a 2:00PM appointment. The driver told me to call when we were ready and he would be in the area because my father in law was the only rider yesterday. Excellent. I told him to expect a call around 2:30. Doctors office went swimmingly and I called the place at 2:35 to have them contact the driver.

We waited and waited and waited.. After 45 minutes I called again and was told "they were having trouble reaching the driver." (I found out later they were calling the wrong number)  After another 10 minutes I decided to drive him myself, but that meant an extra hour by the time I got the car, got him loaded in, drove out there and returned home.  Not only that I had to leave him alone while I ran to get the car which was a block or so away. That made me incredibly nervous, because he's pretty defenseless.

As I ran to the car I called home to see if there was someone there who could help the Nurse lift and care for Maggie. There was so I was OK on that front.

I loaded Grandpa and his wheelchair into Maggie's van (and how many family's will have a wheelchair van handy?) I had to tie it down because he is not set up for the "ez lock" system we have. An ambulance driver could see I was flummoxed and offered to help, but I figured it out. I told the ambulance driver this was the first time I ever loaded this particular chair and perhaps he would consider just staying behind us as we drove across town. He laughed. I laughed too - but I was only partially kidding.

We had to stop for some supplies on the way home and once again I had to leave him alone while I ran into the drug store. He was in the car, so I wasn't too worried. As I paid for my strange combination of purchases and entered my phone number to get the points, the lady looked at me and smiled and said, "It's senior citizen day and there's a discount." I wondered how she knew that these purchases were for a senior citizen who was outside in the car. Then it dawned on me. I felt very tired and asked her, "And I'm a senior citizen?" She nodded excitedly and I received 25% off my purchase. That was about $20, so I decided to take the good with the bad. When I told Grandpa he said, "good I'm a senior citizen." I just looked at him and said, "Bad news - so am I." He liked that quite a bit.

When I returned to the facility they knew I was not happy. When one of the bosses asked what they could do to set my mind at ease I said simply "Stop screwing up. Let's go a few days without a screw up. That will help tremendously."  Seems simple enough.

As I drove across the City with Grandpa strapped in (fairly) securely behind me I considered how completely ridiculous all of this is. Once again we take things to the extreme. We are raising a profoundly disabled daughter and dealing with a newly disabled parent.

 I told Steve if the norm is a sandwich, we are a panini - being pressed from both sides.

At least paninis are delicious.


Things will settle down, won't they?

Bumper cars

We have had a crazy few months around here. Crazy. And almost none of the craziness involves Maggie. Every since Thanksgiving Steve's dad has been in and out of the hospital or care facilities. Now he's healthy again, but it was time to make a move. As of last Saturday, he's been living in an assisted living facility here in San Francisco.

Choosing the right type of facility for an individual is very difficult. You have to match the needs of the individual to the place. We had a few options from which to choose, some were cheaper, some were more expensive, some had different models. After much teeth gnashing and hand wringing, Steve and his siblings made a good choice and we moved him in.

Because his phone could not be connected for a few days, we bought grandpa a "go phone" and programmed the speed dial so he could reach any of his kids or their spouses with one button. He tried it out and decided that was great. The only problem - he doesn't answer the phone when we call him. Hence, Sunday morning he didn't answer our call to see how the first night went. We were headed out to see him anyway, but we were concerned that all his needs had been met. It was important for everyone that he get off to a good start.

Maggie and I headed out in one car and Steve went separately. Maggie and I could only stay a little while but Steve wanted to stay longer. An assisted living facility is completely accessible because nearly everyone in the place uses a wheelchair, a scooter or a walker. It will be a breeze to take Maggie to see Grandpa now! Bonus.

When we arrived I was purposefully making my way to his room, praying that he wasn't laying in bed awaiting assistance. (He wasn't). I suppose I was a little too focused on getting there. I didn't even slow down when I said hello to the lady sitting in the chair with her walker next to her and a pleasant "good Morning" to another resident sitting in her wheelchair in the hallway. Both barely had time to look up because I just kept going.

I should have slowed down.
But I didn't.

Turns out the sweet elderly lady in the chair was farther into the hallway than I realized and I clipped her back wheel with Maggie's wheel. All of a sudden she spun around 180 degrees.  She didn't fall out of the chair or anything, but I don't think you have ever seen a more surprised look on a woman's face. My heart dropped and my knees buckled a little bit  and I started spitting out apologies as fast as I could. "Oh Ma'am I am so so sorry" I thought there was room to pass and i didn't mean to hit your chair. Are you ok?" etc etc. She was shocked and looked at me and then at Maggie, who I realized only then was laughing uproariously. Keep in mind, Maggie doesn't really make much sound when she laughs, but once you see her face you know how hard she's laughing. The lady looked back at me and just started to laugh because it was hard not to when you saw how funny Maggie though it was. She said, "that's ok dear."

I felt like a heel. And Steve was right behind me saying, "Uh, maybe you need to take it a little easy here. We want Dad to make friends, not enemies."

Maggie was still trying to catch her breath because that was just about the most fun she has had in weeks.

I wonder if we can find any accessible Bumper Cars ride. Maggie and her new friend would really enjoy that, especially if they let me drive.

Don't react!

Note - this is along post, but there is no way to break up this story.

Karl Malden died yesterday. He had a long life, living to 97 years old. My sister said he knew he could go yesterday because our adventures yesterday took us all over the Streets of San Francisco.

There is no quick way to describe the events of yesterday. We moved my aunt, an endeavor that should have taken about 2.5 hours – but it took over six. We did not count on the boys being towed off the freeway in a malfunctioning truck or on the series of events that followed.

I thought I was so thorough. We were meeting at 10AM. Maggie was in school until 12:30. The nurse would meet the bus and I had a helper for the nurse for Maggie’s first scheduled treatments. I KNEW I could be home by the second treatments at 3:00. Not even close. I was just about to head home across town to assist, knowing I would have to turn around and come back my aunt’s apartment. Fortunately, Steve went by the house and called to see where I was and I told him to cover Maggie. He said fine, but asked, “So when are you coming home.” With Maggie in good hands, I did not have to worry and could only answer honestly, “I have NO idea.”

The boys, my son Tim and my nephew Vinny left the assisted living facility in the loaded down truck just a minute after I left with the loaded van. We were moving across town and the fastest way to do that is the freeway. I looked for them in my rearview as I drove on the freeway but was not too worried when I did not see them. If they missed the lights that I made they would be 5 miles behind me. I arrived and unloaded what I could without help. I made a couple of trips up the elevator to my aunt’s downtown “deluxe apartment in the sky.” My aunt was already there with my mom and my sister Joan, (Vinny’s mom.)
Joan was buying sandwiches for everyone to enjoy after the unloading was complete. When Tim called to tell me the truck had sputtered out and they were stuck on the freeway I ran into the store to find Joan who was at the checkout. As I told her the story I realized everyone in Safeway was listening and all were concerned. These two young guys are stuck in the middle of the freeway interchange on a divider with a truckload of furniture and traffic zipping by at 65mph. It was not a good scene. Tim did not have his AAA card with him. (arrgh) I called AAA, explained the situation and gave my AAA number. Since Tim in on my account, it was no problem. The truck would be there in a few minutes.

Joan, the most suburban of all my sisters, jumped in my mom’s car and went to find the boys. I’m not sure what exactly she was going to do when she found them, but I was relieved when she went. By the time she saw them the AAA driver was there and through various cell phones, we determined where they would be towed. As our (continuing bad) luck would have it, the driver chose a place in a rather rough neighborhood.

Joan called me as she was exiting the freeway near the garage and we had the following conversation:

J: where are you?
Me: back in the apartment with mom and A.M. (our name for our aunt)
J: Ok ... DO NOT REACT to what I am about to tell you!
Me: (heart sinking, trying to appear calm): oooo kkkaaayy
J. I am getting off the freeway and there is a mattress on the exit ramp.
Me: unnnhhhh
J: What are the chances that is NOT A.M.’s mattress?
Me: (small voice) almost none

She stayed on the phone as she pulled off the freeway. There she found herself in some dicey surroundings. Day laborers surrounded her car seeing if she had work and seedy looking characters were hanging out on the street. She was panicking as she looked for the kids. She was close but did not know exactly where they were. Suddenly she said, “I can see the truck but I only see a box spring in the back.”

My heart sunk farther. The truck was broken, the boys had gone from one dangerous situation to another and my aunt’s mattress was very likely lying on the side of the road. I was careful not to say anything, though because both my mom and my aunt were very interested in my conversation. I thought I was being cool, but realized I was leaning against the wall with my head and rubbing my face in a concerned manner. Because neither my mom nor my aunt is stupid, they knew SOMETHING was up.

Joan’s rapid fire commentary continued . “I see the truck, I see the boys. They are fine. I cannot see the mattress, though. I am stuck at the light and I think every single person I see has a gun. They all have guns!” (Note: she could not see any guns but this very gritty city scene was freaking out my suburban sis). “I’m waiting for the light to change, wait I can see YES! The mattress is on the truck!”

The mattress on the freeway was NOT my aunt’s after all. Perhaps the tide was turning.

She put the boys in my mom’s car and sent them to us. Tim dutifully drove to my aunt’s place but had no idea whose car he was in or why, but he was past asking questions. Meanwhile Joan and her husband, who had arrived from the pleasant land of suburbia, dealt with the truck. It needs an alternator – nothing major, but enough to confirm that furniture was not arriving anytime soon and it could not stay on the open bed of that truck in a tough neighborhood. Finally, they rented a u-haul truck, reloaded all the furniture and drove downtown to the apartment. They saved the day.

We finished quickly once they arrived. My aunt was appreciative and very happy to see us all get out of her apartment. Tim and I headed home in the van while my mom went home in her car. Joan and family headed back to return the rental truck and have their truck towed to her father in law’s house. (I learned in a phone call later in the evening that tow truck #2 broke down en route and the third tow truck of the day came on the scene. It went from the ridiculous to the sublime.)

Maggie slept the entire afternoon and didn't miss me a bit. Meanwhile, Vinny missed a dental appointment and had to give away his shift at work, I missed a meeting in the evening. Tim climbed in bed at 6:30PM and slept for a couple of hours. All of us needed a hot bath and a break from the insanity. But my aunt is back home.

RIP Karl, we have these streets covered.

Independence Day

Today we are moving my aunt out of assisted living and back into her own place. My son Tim and my nephew Vinny will do the heavy lifting; I will wear the white hat and bark orders. (Funny how things work.) I cannot get back here in time to meet Maggie’s bus so the nurse and a helper will do that. I simply cannot be in two places at once.
There is a term for middle-aged people who have responsibilities for the generations above and below them. I believe it is called the sandwich syndrome or something similar. I have been living that for the past few months. I know there are people who live it in Technicolor every day and the taste I have had in the past few months cannot compare. I tip my hat to those of you juggling both.
As a mom, I have to tend to my kids. My boys need guidance and financial assistance, well within the normal limits for their respective ages. Maggie’s needs are extreme, of course. She needs full time around the clock attendant care as well as someone working full time to manage that care. Often times I fill both roles.
As a daughter, I have to tend to my parents. Except I really don’t because they don’t need it. I lost my dad a few years back, but I am lucky to have a vibrant independent mother who does not need any help. Even if she did, I have six siblings who will share the responsibilities. However, I do have an aunt for whom I am the point person and lately she has needed quite a bit of help. She asked me to do this and I am happy to oblige. I am not doing the day-to-day assistance; rather I am managing her assistance. She is appreciative, which makes it easier, but it is a lot of work. I have a feeling that is going to increase dramatically over the next few months as she tries to reclaim her independence.
I hope that this will be a successful exercise and my aunt will settle back into her life before her fall of a few months back. The physical injuries she sustained in that fall are healed, but these things take their tolls in other ways, especially in an older person. Every misstep is fraught with symbolism and can mean a piece of independence lost. I don’t blame her for wanting her own place back and I hope this transition goes smoothly. With my aunt’s consent, I hired a woman to cook, run errands, take her to the doctor etc, and (hopefully) help make it all work.
The assisted living place has been great. They do everything for her and all the residents and do it with a smile. They also charge through the nose, of course, but they are providing a wonderful service. Nevertheless, she hates it. To my aunt and many others, assisted living is the ultimate symbol of a loss of independence. It is the beginning of the end. Maybe I will change my mind when I get to be that age, but I do not see it that way at all. I think assisted living is actually fostering independence for many people.
Personally, I would LOVE to have my meals prepared, my laundry done and my room cleaned by smiling people. Of course, it would not be symbolic if I decided to live in a place like that. I would not be losing more independence every day; in fact, I would likely have a lot more free time.
I think I am going to open an assisted living facility for my generation with all the sandwiches you can eat. People would likely beat down the doors to get in. It would be a lot easier to take care of the generations above and below us if someone was taking care of us.

Vista de los Old Folks

My Aunt had a fall recently. Now that she is finally out of the hospital, she needs more care than usual while she returns to her fighting form. That means she has gone into the dreaded Assisted Living situation. No one jumps at the chance to do this. For many senior citizens this means the end of independence and independent decision-making. However, it does not have to be that, it can be a warm community. It can be a place where people mingle, go on outings, eat in the dining room and make new friends. It can be a place with private apartments and your own furniture and help just a button push away. We found such a place for her and she moved in today straight from the hospital.


We are hopeful that my aunt embraces all the wonders of this place. Before getting there she was referring to the place as “Vista de Los Old Folks”, but if you knew her, that would not surprise you. She has a sharp wit and an even sharper mind.


Good news! She was very pleased when she arrived. Her favorite chair was there along with her own television and her own bed. Her clothes are in the closet, a few of her own dishes in the cupboard. The place is clean and nice. She has the buzzer around her neck and help is just moments away. She is ready to get back to her strongest.


Before she arrived today, I went out there with some clean towels. These were the last of the possessions she had requested. Because Maggie is on Spring Break, I brought her with me. She was a big hit there. I have a feeling Maggie will have more friends there than anyone in a very short amount of time. I was pushing Maggie’s wheelchair down the hallway with one hand and holding the laundry basket under my other arm. My favorite moment of the day was when one of the residents stopped me and asked if she could help me. It is a friendly, vibrant place, and people want to get to know you right away. Inasmuch as the woman offering help was using a walker, I am not sure how she would have helped. Nevertheless, I greatly appreciated the offer. I smiled and said, “No thanks. I’m used to this, we do all sorts of stuff one handed.” But I was grinning all the way down the long hallway to my aunt’s apartment.


It’s funny; senior citizens generally do not want to embrace this lifestyle because of the stigma that comes with it. From where I am sitting, it just does not look that bad. Someone cooks, cleans, help you out and drops you off at shopping centers or arranges other outings if you are interested. They need that for middle-aged overworked mothers.


Vista de los Old Folks just might be the perfect spot.