Bedlam Farm Blog Journal by Jon Katz

Several weeks ago, a member of the Army Of Good (forgive me, I have forgotten her name) e-mailed me to suggest giving gift cards to each of the Mansion aides to thank them for their good and hard (and underpaid) work on behalf of the elderly residents they serve so faithfully.

I loved the idea, and ran it by the Mansion brass, and they loved it also.

So I’m running with it, proposing that we raise money to give each of the Mansion’s 13 aides a $50 Amazon Gift Card in time to use for the holidays in any way they wish.

Amazon makes it easy, I can buy the cards online and print them out myself and give them personally to each of the Mansion aides. I know this will not only be a great help to them over the holidays but also some recognition, which they rarely get in our country.

They are among the lowest paid workers on the health scare scale. And they work as hard and conscientiously as any people I have ever seen working anywhere.

It is my privilege to see them work day after day, soothing the residents, providing many the only love and attention they ever get, working hard to make sure they get what they need, and doing the hard and dirty work no one else wants to do.

Working with the extreme elderly is no simple or ever  easy thing. So I hope you’ll help me to do this. There are  13 aides in the Mansion, to get each of them a $50 Amazon Gift Card will cost $650. I will need your help.

If you wish to contribute to the Mansion Aides Gift Card Project, please send your contribution to me, Jon Katz, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816, or via Paypal, [email protected]. Please mark your payment to “Gift Card Project.”

Once I get to $650, I’ll let you know. If there is any overage, I’ll put into the Mansion fund account. It will be put to good use.

I think this is a very worthwhile thing to do, these are wonderful people who need some recognition, and wouldn’t mind the money either. Our mothers are in their good and loving hands.

In our country, athletes make tens of millions of dollars, but people who work long and difficult hours caring for our elderly citizens often get little more than the minimum wage. I hope we can give them a holiday boost of appreciation and recognition.

I think it’s time once again to talk about how best to help the Mansion residents, as we are doing a lot of things and there is always a bit of confusion. I should do this more often, there are so many good people out there in the Army Of Good who want to help.

The easiest ways to help the Mansion residents are free and inexpensive.

You can write them letters, send them photos and stories of your life. You can send them crafts and favors and cards for holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. They love your gifts and the packages they open on holidays, they look forward to them all year. Please consider continuing the wonderful tradition of sending home made and ofter crafts, cut outs, pin-ups and gifts like soap and cookies.

(Note, many of the residents need sugar free foods.)

You can also check in every now and then on the Amazon Mansion Wish List.

(I’m also going ahead with plans to give a $50 Amazon Gift Card to each of the aides in the Mansion. It looks like $650 for 13 aides. If you wish to contribute, send a donation to me Jon Katz, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., or via Paypal, [email protected]. Mark the payment “Gift Cards.” They deserve it, and they could use the money.)

It’s empty at the moment, but it will soon have items again.

Other ways to help.

It is almost never a good idea to send used or old things from your homes to me or the Mansion. The residents require a different system than is customary for giving to charity.

It’s not like helping the poor or the homeless, the Mansion residents are not penniless or without any resources and all of the residents don’t need everything.

Since it’s a Medicaid facility that doesn’t draw wealthy people,  the residents often run out of their monthly allowances, and sometimes don’t have the money to buy specialized clothing that they find themselves suddenly needing: special shoes, worn out slippers, special-size clothes like underwear, bras, sweatshirts or nightgowns.

Much of the time, it’s the aides who spot the needs and pass them along to me, the residents often don’t notice their shoes are falling apart, or can’t imagine anyone would help them buy new ones.

But they are not destitute, and do not need all need boxes of old clothes or slippers, their needs are specialized. One at a time.

It isn’t like the Salvation Army, where they take everything. We can’t.

If one needs a nightgown, it doesn’t mean everyone does And almost all of the residents require special order clothing due to medical conditions or size.

The used clothes in your attic are not likely to fit anyone at the Mansion. Same with used books. Many residents can’t read books for health reasons or need large print or other special kinds of books.

I also have to admit to my own prejudice, I have  come to prefer buying them new clothes that I can see and the staff can see before it is given to the residents. Some of the stuff that has come to us without our knowledge is not in good shape. I won’t pass those things along.

Some have allergies to dust or mites, and require certain fabrics. Some of the Mansion residents are frail and don’t need new or different clothes, they don’t go out of their rooms too often, and can’t go far.

In special cases, I always ask for help. When Peggie needed a new laptop, I put it out on the blog, and a wonderful angel sent along her slightly used one, and it works beautifully. I don’t  have the funds to buy a new laptop, and so I put it out there. That hasn’t failed me yet.

I believe the most efficient way to help the residents, other than the choices I mentioned, is also to contribute to the Mansion fund. When a resident asks me for a special shirt, usually a special size or material, I buy it instantly using the Mansion Fund, which usually holds between $700 and $1,500 dollars. I don’t like to have money sitting around, so I use it quickly and, of course account for it.

The fund is audited every month by a bookkeeper and also by a New York City accounting firm. I disclose every purchase.

Once or twice a week, the Mansion staff meets to talk about the residents needs, and they will often give me a list of items that the staff requests. Sometimes the Mansion staff will use their own money, most of the time they bring the list to me.

I now have a network of trusted stores online and trusted Thrift Shops in the area.  I know they will find me high-quality and clean clothes if I can’t get them new and online.

I have the items shipped to me at the farm and I bring them to the Mansion, usually making three or four trips a week. I know, for example, that as of now, the residents say they have what they need for the winter. This will change as the snow arrives and their personal and clothing needs change and become more urgent.

If I have the money in the account – the requests are never large – I will pay for it from the donations of the Army Of Good, or sometimes, my own money. If I don’t, I will ask for help on the blog.

This has been the most  reliable and efficient way of helping the residents. They get what they need, and they get new and appropriate clothing or other personal items.

We only collect what is asked for,  I never guess about what they might need. That’s the problem with donating old things.

You can send a contribution to that fund by writing me, Jon Katz, c/o P.O.Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816, or via Paypal, [email protected]. Mostly, these are small donations. They add up. Today, there is $875 in the account.

Sending your old things is a crapshoot really, it just means that Maria and I or the staff have to spend time donating most of it to local charities. I know it comes from a good place, but I want to help you help the residents in a way that is useful.

If you look at the photograph above, I put out this week’s purchases for the residents, it might help to understand how this works well.

On the left, in the white package are Fall shoes for Joan. She has a special foot size and needs pull-ons, no laces. They must have side soles to prevent falling, and lined interiors for  warmth. It took me an hour to find them online, she cannot wear store-bought shoes.

Next is a box of pens engraved: “To The Unsung Heroes Of The Mansion, The Staff, Thank you.” There are 50 pens in the box. To the immediate right is a winter jacket for Wayne, so he can get outside in his wheelchair. He asked me for the jacket on Monday, he is not able to go outside.

But I checked, and no other person at the Mansion needs a winter jacket. Wayne, who moves in a wheelchair, also needs a special kind of jacket.

To the right to of that are nightgowns for Ruth, she has a very particular size requirement, and special materials for her allergies. At the moment, she has no appropriate nightclothes, and it’s getting cold.

Those are all special orders, all requested earlier in the week. I think this system works.

I hope we can focus again this year on materials so the residents can celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Your creativity and energy seem boundless and loving. You can send holiday items – cards, odd trinkets, costume jewelry, funny hats, cookies and stocking-stuffers to Julie, c/o The Mansion, 11 S. Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

The holidays can be lonely times for these people, you have brightened them so much. And I thank you so much. We have transformed the lives of the Mansion residents.

Trainers will tell you that when there is training problem, it is most often the human who is messing up, not the dog. That is true in my experience. Bud is doing beautifully, I have to get sharper.

But on the whole, he has made amazing progress. Not how calm and relatively focused he is 10 feet from a flock of sheep he was charging and barking at last week.

He is welcome in the pasture any time now, he is becoming a great farm dog.

Bud is going very well learning to “sit” and “stay,” but I give myself poor marks in this video. I’m using too many words, I’m hesitant and a bit anxious, I move to much. He gets an A, I get a C minus. I know better.

When I give Bud a command, it should be one word: “Bud, Stay,” and then I should back up and be still. If it fails we try again until he gets it right.

Because Bud was initially so twitchy and anxious, I got the same way with him this morning. He isn’t a simple dog to train. Terriers are notoriously independent and, like donkeys, not obsessed with pleasing humans.

It’s imperative with training to use few words and give a single command. If the dog doesn’t obey, wait a minute or two and try again. No yelling multiple times.

I like what I saw of Bud in this video, not what I saw of me.

The good news is that Bud is grasping the concept, and very well. He is really getting it. But the pressure is on me, not him. I’m responsible.

I have to be more patient and project more confidence and clarity. In the video, I seem uncertain, as if I expect him to fail more than I expect him to succeed.

In training, I should always project confident and assurance, I should project what I want to happen and expect to happen. In this video, I seem afraid of both of us failing. That’s a bad head to bring to training.

I’ll try again later today and tomorrow.

Until today, I never saw this gold tooth, or the implant it rested on, both lived in my mouth these past few years, ever since I agreed to have a dental implant when I lost a tooth.

The implant process was long, arduous, troubled and expensive, I doubt I would do it again. In fact, I have already decided I won’t to it again. Today, the gold tooth and the implant were surgically removed from my mouth in a two-hour surgical procedure in Saratoga Springs.

The implant had become infected, and the infection was damaging the bone over the roof of my mouth. The doctor said it was removed just in the nick of time, I’m on antibiotics and over-the-counter pain killers.

When the doctor asked me if I wanted the gold tooth – it is worth hundreds of dollars, I said yes, my wife might well make a necklace out of it. This was the first time I saw the tooth, and I was stunned at its shine and color, and also at the length and width of the implant, which I realized had been screwed into the bone above my teeth.

There was one doctor and three nurses and doctors for this surgery. It was once, he said,  considered a very big deal, and might even have been done in a hospital. I would never have been allowed to drive home, or get out of bed for several days.

As it was, he said, I was not to eat solid food for days, or spit for a week, or sleep or rest without my head being elevated. I was not to exercise or run or lift heavy things.

On top of removing the tooth and the implant, he grafted bone from a dead human onto my bone, to try to restore what was lost. We wouldn’t know for months if the procedure had worked. The procedure cost $875, and I was lucky to have it done.

Had I needed a root canal or additional work, it could easily have cost thousands more, and like most Americans, I have no dental insurance aside from being reimbursed for a one or two cleanings.

Insurance companies want no part of implants or root canals or extractions like the one I had this morning. The hardest part was the Novocaine needles, three shots injected through the top of the tooth and from inside the gums.

“I’m sorry,” said Dr. Kelling, the oral surgeon, and I think he was. His nurse said he went to school for eight years to do this work, and I could see this was true. He was competent, professional and caring.

During the procedure, there were pauses. I had some great talks with a nurse about farming, dogs and living in nature.

I was thinking the rest of the day how routine this kind of procedure is now. Insurance companies don’t pay for hospital stays for too long, and our idea of surgeries has changed.

I thought the doctor and his staff were terrific, I confess to feeling a little alone when I left,  gauze stuffed into my mouth to stop the bleeding, my mind reeling from the elaborate instructions on how to deal with the wound and the pain. Beyond the procedure it was clear I was no on my own.

I thought the pain and blood deserved a little more medical attention. But of course, it was not necessary. Take some Motrin, they said, nobody wanted to talk about painkillers.

I am fine. In keeping with my habit of sharing my life – you get to see my broken heart, and my troubled retina – I’ve taken a photo of my good tooth and implant, neither in my mouth any longer. I was shocked to see them both, I had no idea what they put in my mouth, mostly my eyes were closed at the time.

This kind of operation is just not a big deal any more, although it seemed like a big deal to me. I came home and Maria gave me chicken soup that she had hastily prepared. I can’t eat “hard” foods for at least a week, and my mouth is all  stitched up.

As I get older, I see more of doctors and their offices and are familiar with their ways, the computer calls reminding me appointments, the endless requests for my birthday, the questions about medications and medical history, the permission and consent slips: it’s okay to be treated, I understand the risks, I know I’m responsible for the bill if the insurance company refuses, I agree to letting my wife have my medical history, and also my primary, I understand Hippa.

They will always ask me what my A1C number is, what my blood sugar was that day, if I am allergic to medications, did I take any pills that day. I always wonder what if this was real surgery, like Open Heart Surgery. I spent days signing forms then.

The doctor could not have been nicer. Or busier. He was, after all, a man, so there was not too much chit-chat about me or my life. They leave that to women, and I am grateful for it. The longer I sat in the chair, the bigger a deal it seemed to me.

The procedure started at 10:30 and was done some time after noon. I was home by 2:15 and eating lunch. I was at my computer by 2:30 blogging, checking e-mail, research weltanschauung and dogs  for my radio show.

My wound bled for several hours, by evening I at some soft foods and two slices of thin, vegetable covered pizza, everything organic. The blood has stopped, and I have my gold tooth and the implant sitting in front of my computer, I have been staring at it.

I put all the bloody gauze and took some Nyquill for my burgeoning cold. Blessedly, I didn’t cough or sneeze once during the procedure.

I thought there would be a lot of pain, and there is. Motrin is good for an  hour or so, then fades. I won’t take any more, it will be better in the morning.

The tooth would make a good necklace, and I am still shocked by the implant, it was screwed into my mouth for a couple of years and felt fine to me. I’ll be on  anti-biotics for six days. Hopefully, that will knock out any infection.

I’ll get the stitches out in two weeks.

I think if they don’t make it a big deal, I don’t either, and that is a good thing.  At least they were nice, and that is not always the case.

And I am  mesmerized by my gold tooth. Talk about mojo. Maybe it can be a necklace for me one day.