A day at the spa

One of the many things that always stays in my mind about my mom is her fingernails.  Mom was obsessed with her fingernails and keeping them long.  Nature must have blessed her with a lot of biotin because her nails were rock solid, long and they never chipped.  She could open anything with her nails and if she sharpened them, I'm sure they could be used as a weapon.   Rarely would one break and she would freak right out because that meant she would have to trim down all the other nails and file and do the thing with the cuticles and then repaint with two coats and a top coat.  Needless to say, doing her nails was an entire night in front of the TV and a continuum of "Lisa-Marie, make me coffee or Lisa-Marie change the channel, I'm doing my nails," and I would have to stop everything I was doing because of her nails.  Why she never went for a manicure, I don't know, but she never did, she always did her own.  In every purse that she owned you could find two things, kleenex and a Emory board for filing her nails.  Always beside her chair you could find, clippers, a nail file, the cuticle thing and clear top coat.  For what ever reason, I don't know why, mom always stored her nail polishes in the refrigerator.  Instead of butter being in the door of the fridge, you would find a half dozen nail polishes, all different shades of brown and one red and one pastel pink  Oddly, she would always put on the red and then decide it was too loud and take it off and put on one of the shades of brown. Occasionally she would put on the pastel pink and then decide that she didn't like pink and take it off and put on one of the shades of brown.  Really, mom only wore brownish nail polish.
Another thing that stays in my mind is my mom's hair.  Her hair was so thick, like a horses mane.  In order to keep it that way mom would spend a lot of money on hair products, hair treatments, hair cuts and hair brushes.  She got her hair cut and styled faithfully every two weeks and a highlight or colour every six weeks. Her main hair dresser was Hans at Chez Monique in Banff and for over 25 years she was as faithful to him as she was to my dad.  Once in awhile Hans would be away or she couldn't get an appointment, and then and only then would she go to a different stylist and only when Hans retired 2 years ago did she stop seeing him.  She couldn't drive then but would make my dad drive her to Banff from Cochrane, in rain or snow, for her hair appointment.  At a hundred bucks a cut (Banff prices of course), Hans was able to retire on my mothers hair and the two centimetres that he would cut off every two weeks and whatever new hair product her could sell her.  Mom would buy whatever hair spray or shampoo or hair gloss and anything Hans recommended and it's funny how Hans never found one product that he liked enough to recommend over and over again.   Now this wasn't once every couple months, this was every two weeks and every two weeks mom would come back from her hair appointment with a new product that Hans recommended.  The cupboards under the bathroom sink in both bathrooms were full of hair products.  Hair gloss, pomade, volumizers, texturizers, waxes, gels, mousses, a dozen kinds of hair sprays, curling irons, flat irons, attachments for hair dryers and at least a dozen different kinds of shampoo and conditioners.  Seriously, if you needed a hair product, you could find it in one of the bathrooms.   My dad still has all of his hair and it's barely grey.  Dad never bought shampoo, he would always use whatever shampoo he could find under the sink.  It didn't matter what, hell dad would use dish soap if he had to because shampoo was all the same to him.  I often wonder if he still has all of his hair because for all those years he used quality women's shampoos.
Mom has apraxia.  Apraxia means that she has no real control of her body movements.  She can't use her hands and so she can't do her nails.  At the facility once every couple weeks volunteers come and will do a simple manicure for the residents who request it.  I requested it for my mom and so she had her first official manicure in an extended care facility.
Mom also suffers from tremors.  The tremors are mainly in her hands but on occasion her entire body will tremble and so will her head.   I didn't know if the volunteers would be able to do a manicure with her tremors, they said they will try.  They started by soaking moms hands in warm water and some foo foo stuff.  She was still a little shaky and a bit of water splashed but it was no big deal.  Then they did a hand massage with some exfoliant.  Moms hands trembled less.  They they rinsed her hands in warm water and did another hand massage with some cream.  By the end of the massage, the hand tremors had stopped and they were able to complete her manicure and polish her nails.  Mom really enjoyed it.
At the facility there is a hair stylist.  Mom has lost so much of her hair that I didn't think much could be done with it.  I find it sad really because she always had such thick, healthy hair and now there is nothing but thin wiry grey hair and  very little of it.  The stylist assured me that she could do something with her hair but it would hair to be after her bath when her hair is still wet.  Mom is in a Broda chair because she can't support her body.  The Broda is too big to allow the stylist to wash mom's hair in the sink so I arranged to take mom down for her hair appointment after her bath.  Again mom loved it.  There was no need for a cut but just getting it styled and curled seem to make really happy.  It's funny how things don't change.  When dad came later in the day he failed to notice mom's hair.  After 10 minutes of staring at him mom finally said "My hair," and dad looked and said "Oh yeah mother, it looks nice".
I try, I really try to find even little ways to make her life happier.  For an hour or two maybe she is but then the reality of the situation sinks in.  After dinner last night mom and I stayed in the dining room while I sipped a tea and we looked at the Avon Christmas book.  Then mom said "I won't get better".  I looked into her eyes and I cried "No mom, you won't get better this time".  She kept looking at me and then she started to cry.  "I want to be with Jackie and my dad," she said.  I knew what she meant and I said "Whenever you're ready mom we'll be here and you don't have to worry about anything, I'll make sure dad and the kids are always okay".  Mom looked intently into my eyes and said "I'm ready".