Advocacy... Mum's health "crashed" about 3years ago and she has been with me about that long. I have been to every appointment, every test, every surgery/recovery/rehabilitation. She didn't very much like my "intrusion" but it was clear to my brother and me that she was not capable of adequately relaying information to us. So... Fairegold, I had not realized your mother died. I'm so sorry. I know that every one has their time, but it is always a shock, and a relief, and a sadness when it happens. You were good to her; being good and kind to people carries a reward we often don't fully appreciate until they're gone. :) I have two things to offer: the actual medical services available to us are simply amazing. The "before" and "after" care, however STINKS. I have dealt with more nurses and doctors than I can count. Sadly, I have to say the quality of nursing is abyssmal; I made it a point to be polite and pleasant. But when they were unwilling to make time to discuss Mum's condition with me I lost whatever faith I had in the profession. When I watched a nurse drop an exam glove on the floor and then pick it up to PUT IT ON before changing Mum's urostomy I was horrified. "Were you planning on using that one?", I asked as she was preparing to do just that. She looked nervous and was even more nervous as I supervised the urostomy change... noting that is was done improperly. (I do it on average every 5 days, and have for 2 years now; I now realize I've FORGOTTEN more about the process than most RNs ever knew). The same nurse failed to raise the rails on Mum's bed and she got out of bed, confused. She fell hard, cracking her kneecap and badly spraining her wrist... all this followed a stroke. Why didn't the nurse have the presence of mind to realize a stroke patient doens't make good decisions and is a likely candidate for injury resulting from compromised decision making? HELLO? whatever happened to "common sense"? that's how "medical professionals" operate? Doctors. They're busy. They have a lot to juggle. Most have pathetic interpersonal skills. It's the rare jewel who has warmth, a sense of humor, and willingness to be direct and honest. Here's what we did: every day either my brother or I would visit Mum. We arrived at varying times of the day, That way, we knew all the staffers and had a chance to find a sympathetic one. We brought notebooks with us, and we took notes, jotting down the nurses' names, the doctor's name, the time of the visit, etc.. We noted whether or not the urostomy pouch was full, half full, empty... whenther or not she was simply left the sit, hooked to a Foley bag. We noted her cleanliness, if her hearing aids were in, and if the batteries were dead. We brought our digital cameras and took pictures. (Those pictures were a real "hit" when the social worker at the last "rehab." place proved difficult about discharging Mum after 5 weeks... she was "approved" for 8! nothing like a creeping skin condition all over her back to give 'em a case of "the worries", lol). Each of us called the doctors and requested information. We set up times to meet with them to discuss Mum and her condition/progress. Sometimes I did it, sometimes my brother did. Other times we did it together. We were polite, direct, and ON TIME. Being an advocate requires that you be PREPARED, informed, and as polite as you can be; have your questions prepared in advance if you're able. You have to be patient with staff and understand that they DO have a lot to manage on a daily basis, but when you're faced with something unacceptable you have to be willing to be steely-eyed, icy toned, and simply refuse to accept the usual litany of excuses. Believe me, nothing gets the attention of staff faster. And when staff has really gone above and beyond, you must say thank-you and do something kind. I can still the urologist's face when he saw Mum the first time. She weighed 84 lbs., was grey, slow, and sullen. He minced around the obvious reality, using "polite" phrases to avoid saying the obvious. I finally got out the chair, put my hands on his desk and looked him in the eye, "Look, doc., I am a busy woman. I have neither time nor patience for bulls!!t, get to the point.". He met my gaze and began the medical dictation of Mum's case... it wasn't good. He scheduled the next cystoscopy... when he saw her 6 weeks later, she had put on 12 lbs., had rosey cheeks, and he didn't recognize her. After the test, he spoke with me... told me I had done an amazing job with her, that he respected and appreciated my direct manner and willingness to pay attention to small details... as those are the things that make a difference when an elderly person faces a health crisis. He told me then that he had expected to learn of her death before that appointment.

Oh I can relate. DH had a grandmother and an old maid aunt...guess who got all their stuff. His folks had an apartment in NYC and the old house here. Guess who got all their stuff. Then my Mom had to clean out their old house after Dad passed...50+ years of accumulation and both were pack rats. Guess who got a lot of their stuff. She moved into a condo here and had a house in FL besides. When she passed, guess who got all her stuff from those 2 places. Let alone our own stuff and moving out of the old house and into the new house. Is it any wonder we left the upstairs in the new house just attic space? Any wonder that it looks like a goodwill store? And the tension one suffers between, this is still good, how can I throw it out...but do I really need 14 wooden spoons? And then you get this weird support for keeping it...like when our can opener busted and we just went to the attic to get another one...and there's still another up there... And trying to get rid of stuff that was in DH's family triggers this strong reaction in him, like a hoarder, that I'm not tossing a dishtowel, but a piece of his family history and how dare I! So I know that an awful lot of this stuff I'll have to deal with once he's gone. We too are orphans with no children, nieces or nephews and ends of the line. So I know a lot of this stuff will be meaningless to many. We both have cousins though who have children so will probably pass some stuff down to them. The rest will just have to go. And yes, looking at photos of people who looked so young and carefree, and knowing ex post how their lives ended, often in such sad and painful ways. It is truly heart wrenching. A labor required of those of us who are the end of the line. Not easy, I know. But there it is. On the other side though, we've been working at cleaning out over 60 years of accumulation and mess in the barn...while it is dirty nasty work, there is something wonderful about looking at the space that you just cleaned up, all the room you've made, finding treasures you didn't know you had amongst the detritus of accumulation, and that sense of accomplishment at having made a tremendous difference. So there's that too.

Not much has changed since 1936.

Great photo - does it have a date on it? I have photos of all four great grandparents on my father's side and of three on my mother's side. My father's great grandparents on his father's side had oil portraits of them painted before they left Prussia in the mid nineteenth Century (around 1843), and these were hung in my parents' house when I was growing up. We had other family portraits as well. To me, these were a bit creepy when I was a child. My great-grandfather had his portrait painted as well, but someone else has this. Several other remote ancestors of my father's had portraits painted, and I have seen them online. These were on his father's mother's side and were English/Anglo. Ancestors on my father's side did not have hard lives (although they may have made others' lives hard), but some on my mother's side may have - I know less about those ancestors. My mother's grandparents on her mother's side were immigrants from Germany, and her mother did not learn English until she was seven. Her grandfather was a furniture maker, and I have some pieces that he made. He died in 1942 at 89, but his wife died about 20 years earlier, and so my mother never knew her.