Mom is officially back in her home away from home, the rehab center.
She was a bit confused today. At first she thought she was leaving the upstairs of the farmhouse where she grew up because it was being sold, and that made her very sad. After we assured her the farmhouse had been sold many years ago she remembered, but then thought she had been staying at Doc's house. She wanted to stop at Panera to get a gift basket for Doc and his wife to thank them for their hospitality, especially since Doc's wife had been so nice to cook so many meals for her. We avoided that.
After all, if ANYONE is getting Panera, it's US. :>)
The rehab center had stored all her belongings for us, knowing she'd eventually return. It took us a good long while to get her moved into her new room, and not very long at all for us to decide she had accumulated way too much stuff in the short time she'd been there. Sis carted off a whole box of things that were no longer needed. Since there isn't a dresser in her new room Sis will be making a trip to the store to purchase one of those multi-drawer plastic contrivances to hold extra items. As it is she only has three drawers in a nightstand. Far too little storage for anyone, much less Mom.
She seemed to hold up well during all the unpacking, only complaining of her back hurting as she sat in the wheelchair. Sis left with Giganto Box O' Stuff, and I stuck around to get Mom settled back in. The nursing director came in to welcome her back, as did many of the staff. We headed down to the lounge near the dining area where Mom decided she'd like to sit in one of the easy chairs. I helped her into it and we sat and talked for quite a while.
Supper time came, and she ate very well. If she could actually see what was on the plate instead of having to feel around for it things would be easier, but she managed quite well nevertheless. Some of the friends she's made at the rehab center welcomed her back and told her she was missed, and that meant a lot to her. After supper her back was still bothering her so I got her pain pills and got her into bed.
But there was a difference.
Whereas before she would be out like a light immediately after she was put to bed, she is now wide awake. Even with the pain pills, even after the tiring day she had, even after all she's been through. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
So I laid down with her for a while and snuggled. I figured she doesn't get enough of that, and frankly, neither do I. No matter how old I get, and no matter how old she gets, I think I'll still love to lay down next to her and hold her close. She told me a while back that she misses being hugged. She misses physical contact; the closeness of personal touch. But this makes up for it in spades.
She was still awake as I got ready to leave at 7:00 p.m., so I turned the television on for her. I left the volume low enough to where it wouldn't bother her roommate, but it might occupy Mom's mind while she was awake. The aides will come in later and turn it off.
It's good to have things back to semi-normal. Or new normal. Or pseudo-normal. At least we're more comfortable feeling as though we're back where we should be.
And maybe it will stay that way for a while.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
We're Springing Her From Da Joint
Tomorrow Mom will be released from the hospital.
It seems as though the doctors agree there should be two weeks between her angioplasty and any other surgery. That means the carotid surgery will have to wait until its scheduled date of September 12th. Barring any more bleeding issues, heart attacks, infections, too-thin blood, pestilence or plague, we hope this will take place.
But we all know what's happened when we've planned on a surgery date before.
Son came up yesterday with Cutie at the special request of his grandmother before she went in for the angioplasty. Today I let Son do the visiting with Mom while I stayed home and played with Cutie, because to be perfectly honest, I was exhausted. Countless hours at the hospital every day will do that to a person. Sis has been putting in overtime as well, and both of us could use a week in the Bahamas about now.
At least now we can go back to our semi-regular routine of every other day. I'm hoping when we get Mom moved into her permanent residence we can cut down a bit on the visits without the intense feelings of guilt both of us seem to have if one of us doesn't go to see her every day.
And it would be so very much easier if that place was only two minutes from my house.
From my keyboard to God's ear....
It seems as though the doctors agree there should be two weeks between her angioplasty and any other surgery. That means the carotid surgery will have to wait until its scheduled date of September 12th. Barring any more bleeding issues, heart attacks, infections, too-thin blood, pestilence or plague, we hope this will take place.
But we all know what's happened when we've planned on a surgery date before.
Son came up yesterday with Cutie at the special request of his grandmother before she went in for the angioplasty. Today I let Son do the visiting with Mom while I stayed home and played with Cutie, because to be perfectly honest, I was exhausted. Countless hours at the hospital every day will do that to a person. Sis has been putting in overtime as well, and both of us could use a week in the Bahamas about now.
At least now we can go back to our semi-regular routine of every other day. I'm hoping when we get Mom moved into her permanent residence we can cut down a bit on the visits without the intense feelings of guilt both of us seem to have if one of us doesn't go to see her every day.
And it would be so very much easier if that place was only two minutes from my house.
From my keyboard to God's ear....
Friday, August 29, 2008
Sooner Than We Thought
I fully planned on going to work this morning. However, I received a phone call from Sis, telling me Mom was having chest pains yet again.
It seems as though Doc had been in and tried to convince her to have the angioplasty. It apparently upset her so much that she started in with chest pains, proving that, HELLO, she needed the angioplasty.
When I got there things were under control again. Sis was ready to leave for work, and I had decided to take the day off to sit with Mom. And then the cardiac doctor came in.
I explained to him exactly how she felt. That she was scared, that she didn't want to hurt any more, that she was tired of being tired. And in a very gentle way, he somehow managed to convince her that there would be very little pain, almost nothing to be scared about, and that the procedure would give her more energy. In an amazing turn of events, she changed her mind and agreed to the procedure.
We took her down to the Cardiac Cath Lab about 11:00 a.m. About an hour later the cardiac doctor came out and told us they had found a significant blockage in the right artery leading to her heart, and he believed that was the cause of the heart attacks. He told us his associate would be putting a stent in to open the passage, and they'd keep us updated on the progress.
Mom came through it just fine, although it took a total of over four hours to complete. It seems as though her artery had many twists and turns, unlike the average bear, which caused the doctor no end of grief. However, when it came down to it, he stuck it out like a man and did what had to be done. He ended up placing two stents, and this after using four different sizes of balloons to compress the plaque built up inside the artery.
The artery was 99.1% blocked.
After she returned to her room I stayed with her to make sure she didn't move the leg they had to cut into in order to reach the vein that led to her heart for the time prescribed by the doctor. The first few hours were a piece of cake, but the last couple were a trial. She kept complaining of cramping feet and aching ankles, sore knees and an aching back. She kept me busy until I was able to talk a nurse into some pain meds for her that knocked her out again. I finally left the hospital at 10:30 p.m.
Needless to say, this day has been 243 years long. I'm headed to bed, but with a very, very grateful heart. God answered a huge prayer of mine today, and I couldn't be happier.
It seems as though Doc had been in and tried to convince her to have the angioplasty. It apparently upset her so much that she started in with chest pains, proving that, HELLO, she needed the angioplasty.
When I got there things were under control again. Sis was ready to leave for work, and I had decided to take the day off to sit with Mom. And then the cardiac doctor came in.
I explained to him exactly how she felt. That she was scared, that she didn't want to hurt any more, that she was tired of being tired. And in a very gentle way, he somehow managed to convince her that there would be very little pain, almost nothing to be scared about, and that the procedure would give her more energy. In an amazing turn of events, she changed her mind and agreed to the procedure.
We took her down to the Cardiac Cath Lab about 11:00 a.m. About an hour later the cardiac doctor came out and told us they had found a significant blockage in the right artery leading to her heart, and he believed that was the cause of the heart attacks. He told us his associate would be putting a stent in to open the passage, and they'd keep us updated on the progress.
Mom came through it just fine, although it took a total of over four hours to complete. It seems as though her artery had many twists and turns, unlike the average bear, which caused the doctor no end of grief. However, when it came down to it, he stuck it out like a man and did what had to be done. He ended up placing two stents, and this after using four different sizes of balloons to compress the plaque built up inside the artery.
The artery was 99.1% blocked.
After she returned to her room I stayed with her to make sure she didn't move the leg they had to cut into in order to reach the vein that led to her heart for the time prescribed by the doctor. The first few hours were a piece of cake, but the last couple were a trial. She kept complaining of cramping feet and aching ankles, sore knees and an aching back. She kept me busy until I was able to talk a nurse into some pain meds for her that knocked her out again. I finally left the hospital at 10:30 p.m.
Needless to say, this day has been 243 years long. I'm headed to bed, but with a very, very grateful heart. God answered a huge prayer of mine today, and I couldn't be happier.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Tests And Results
Today was joy and agony all in the same day.
Mom got to do her video swallow test again today. She's been on nectar-thick liquids since the last time she was in the hospital because the video swallow test she did then showed she was unable to swallow thin liquids without danger of aspirating some of them. However, today she passed the test with flying colors!
We were so happy that we called her speech therapist at the rehab center to tell her. Mom told her that whenever they asked her to swallow she kept hearing Kelli, her speech therapist, saying, "Norma! You're not paying attention to me! Tuck your chin!" and that got her through the test. Kelli was thrilled to hear it.
Mom has decided she does not want to go through with the heart cath. We tried several times to explain to her what was involved, but she keeps associating it with the bypass surgery some of our relatives have had rather than a less invasive procedure. She keeps saying, "I don't want to hurt anymore. I've hurt for the past two months, and I don't want to hurt anymore." Nothing we say can convince her it won't hurt or will hurt very little.
The problem is that her right carotid is blocked 95%, and her left is blocked 89%. Without the cardiac cath, there will be no surgery on her carotids. The doctors believe she would have another heart attack on the table if they attempted surgery without first trying to fix what they now believe to be a blockage in her heart.
So we're stuck.
The only other option I can think of is to let it go for now, then possibly get her to have the procedure done at a later date along with one of the carotid surgeries. Then again, she may never want to have it done. Of course, there is always the chance of another heart attack or stroke.
Yes, she suffers from dementia. No, she doesn't think clearly a lot of the time. But in the end, it's her life. If it's going to scare her to death to have the cath, we aren't going to force it on her. We'll just hope and pray she comes around to it in her own time.
And we'll hope that time is soon.
Mom got to do her video swallow test again today. She's been on nectar-thick liquids since the last time she was in the hospital because the video swallow test she did then showed she was unable to swallow thin liquids without danger of aspirating some of them. However, today she passed the test with flying colors!
We were so happy that we called her speech therapist at the rehab center to tell her. Mom told her that whenever they asked her to swallow she kept hearing Kelli, her speech therapist, saying, "Norma! You're not paying attention to me! Tuck your chin!" and that got her through the test. Kelli was thrilled to hear it.
Mom has decided she does not want to go through with the heart cath. We tried several times to explain to her what was involved, but she keeps associating it with the bypass surgery some of our relatives have had rather than a less invasive procedure. She keeps saying, "I don't want to hurt anymore. I've hurt for the past two months, and I don't want to hurt anymore." Nothing we say can convince her it won't hurt or will hurt very little.
The problem is that her right carotid is blocked 95%, and her left is blocked 89%. Without the cardiac cath, there will be no surgery on her carotids. The doctors believe she would have another heart attack on the table if they attempted surgery without first trying to fix what they now believe to be a blockage in her heart.
So we're stuck.
The only other option I can think of is to let it go for now, then possibly get her to have the procedure done at a later date along with one of the carotid surgeries. Then again, she may never want to have it done. Of course, there is always the chance of another heart attack or stroke.
Yes, she suffers from dementia. No, she doesn't think clearly a lot of the time. But in the end, it's her life. If it's going to scare her to death to have the cath, we aren't going to force it on her. We'll just hope and pray she comes around to it in her own time.
And we'll hope that time is soon.
A Total Eclipse Of The Heart
Remember those chest pains I mentioned Mom having? It seems as though they weren't so banal.
They were her second heart attack.
This morning I found out from her doctor that he believes she did indeed have a heart attack in addition to the stroke, and that before she received a transfusion this time she suffered another heart attack. He assured me it was a mild one, but a heart attack nevertheless.
How much more does this woman have to go through???
Now he's talking cardiac catheterization to see what's going on inside her heart. With the anxiety she felt from the scope alone, I can only guess what will happen to her blood pressure when she finds out about this. She'll be scared to death.
They were her second heart attack.
This morning I found out from her doctor that he believes she did indeed have a heart attack in addition to the stroke, and that before she received a transfusion this time she suffered another heart attack. He assured me it was a mild one, but a heart attack nevertheless.
How much more does this woman have to go through???
Now he's talking cardiac catheterization to see what's going on inside her heart. With the anxiety she felt from the scope alone, I can only guess what will happen to her blood pressure when she finds out about this. She'll be scared to death.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Three Little Spots
Five pints of blood, two pints of plasma and a partridge in a pear tree later....
The GI doctor did another scope today. Mom was much more able to tolerate it and a deeper sedation, so more could be accomplished. Today there was no blood to be seen anywhere, so we're blessed that the doctor was able to get in yesterday to get the lay of the land and find the general area to look today.
There were three tiny spots, each about twice the size of the end of an earring post. That's all. Just those three little spots. But add Coumadin to the mix and those three spots become bleeders. The bleeders seep rather than bleed heavily, so it takes a while for Mom's hemoglobin to change. But since they don't clot off, the bleeding is a dangerous thing.
The doctor was able to cauterize all three spots, hopefully eliminating the bleeding problem. Our prayer is that it doesn't show up somewhere else. Mom seems to be doing well, other than having some chest pains. They did an another echocardiogram on her heart today just to make sure all was well, and they've had her on the telemetry unit to keep an eye on how her heart is doing throughout all of this.
Today she was able to eat for the first time in three days. The diarrhea has stopped, but then again, there really hasn't been anything in her stomach except blood. We'll wait out the next couple of days to see how things go. We've asked for her to be able to sit in a chair and perhaps have physical therapy come in so that she doesn't lose what she's gained so far. Throughout this whole ordeal it seems it's been two steps forward, three steps back. We're hoping it turns around as of today.
The GI doctor did another scope today. Mom was much more able to tolerate it and a deeper sedation, so more could be accomplished. Today there was no blood to be seen anywhere, so we're blessed that the doctor was able to get in yesterday to get the lay of the land and find the general area to look today.
There were three tiny spots, each about twice the size of the end of an earring post. That's all. Just those three little spots. But add Coumadin to the mix and those three spots become bleeders. The bleeders seep rather than bleed heavily, so it takes a while for Mom's hemoglobin to change. But since they don't clot off, the bleeding is a dangerous thing.
The doctor was able to cauterize all three spots, hopefully eliminating the bleeding problem. Our prayer is that it doesn't show up somewhere else. Mom seems to be doing well, other than having some chest pains. They did an another echocardiogram on her heart today just to make sure all was well, and they've had her on the telemetry unit to keep an eye on how her heart is doing throughout all of this.
Today she was able to eat for the first time in three days. The diarrhea has stopped, but then again, there really hasn't been anything in her stomach except blood. We'll wait out the next couple of days to see how things go. We've asked for her to be able to sit in a chair and perhaps have physical therapy come in so that she doesn't lose what she's gained so far. Throughout this whole ordeal it seems it's been two steps forward, three steps back. We're hoping it turns around as of today.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Ladies And Gentlemen, We Have A Bleeder!
After the scope today the GI doctor came out to tell us that Mom does indeed have a bleeder. However, due to her weakened condition he was only able to sedate her lightly and to keep the scope inside for a very short time before he had to stop.
During that time he saw both old blood in the stomach as well as fresh blood in the duodenal area, though he couldn't stay long enough to see exactly where it was coming from. Mom's vital signs started dropping, so he stopped. His plan is to build her up with more blood, which was done today, and then try again tomorrow.
What we didn't realize was that her hemoglobin was again down to dangerous levels. We were told initially it was 7.5, then 7.1, which is still bad, but not as bad as the 4 she was at the last time. However, it turned out she was at 5 this time. With all the blood and plasma she's had, she's now up over 11.
On a positive note, she's been cleared of the C Diff. She's had two negative tests so far, so that means no more isolation for her. However, she's still suffering from lots of stools, probably from all the blood. The nurse tonight said she wants to give her Immodium if it keeps up.
I had to get mean today. Mom hasn't been up and about in a few days, and that causes her muscles to cramp up. Mostly her back, hip, leg and foot. Today she was hurting so much she was crying no matter what we did. I asked the nurse if we couldn't get her something stronger for the pain, and she told me our doctor likely wouldn't order anything stronger because he was known for that.
And she left it at that.
And I almost left it at that.
And then I looked at Mom again and saw how much she hurt. So I went to the nurse and told her that I'd like for her to call the doctor anyway, and if he gave her any guff about giving Mom something that was stronger I wanted to talk to him personally, because it was ridiculous in this day and age to have someone suffer when drugs are readily available to ease pain.
I went back in to Mom's room, and she told me we'd probably be fired from that doctor. I told her if we were that doctor could take a big bite out of my nether regions, because there were plenty of others in the city.
We got morphine within fifteen minutes, and Mom finally got some rest.
And it's after 10 p.m., so I plan to do the same. Only without the morphine.
During that time he saw both old blood in the stomach as well as fresh blood in the duodenal area, though he couldn't stay long enough to see exactly where it was coming from. Mom's vital signs started dropping, so he stopped. His plan is to build her up with more blood, which was done today, and then try again tomorrow.
What we didn't realize was that her hemoglobin was again down to dangerous levels. We were told initially it was 7.5, then 7.1, which is still bad, but not as bad as the 4 she was at the last time. However, it turned out she was at 5 this time. With all the blood and plasma she's had, she's now up over 11.
On a positive note, she's been cleared of the C Diff. She's had two negative tests so far, so that means no more isolation for her. However, she's still suffering from lots of stools, probably from all the blood. The nurse tonight said she wants to give her Immodium if it keeps up.
I had to get mean today. Mom hasn't been up and about in a few days, and that causes her muscles to cramp up. Mostly her back, hip, leg and foot. Today she was hurting so much she was crying no matter what we did. I asked the nurse if we couldn't get her something stronger for the pain, and she told me our doctor likely wouldn't order anything stronger because he was known for that.
And she left it at that.
And I almost left it at that.
And then I looked at Mom again and saw how much she hurt. So I went to the nurse and told her that I'd like for her to call the doctor anyway, and if he gave her any guff about giving Mom something that was stronger I wanted to talk to him personally, because it was ridiculous in this day and age to have someone suffer when drugs are readily available to ease pain.
I went back in to Mom's room, and she told me we'd probably be fired from that doctor. I told her if we were that doctor could take a big bite out of my nether regions, because there were plenty of others in the city.
We got morphine within fifteen minutes, and Mom finally got some rest.
And it's after 10 p.m., so I plan to do the same. Only without the morphine.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Here We Go Again
Mom is back in the hospital.
I got a call at work today about noon telling me she had been sick in therapy and had thrown up blood clots. This after a solid day of constant diarrhea the day before, which was unusual even with the C Diff. It got so bad the doctor prescribed something stronger than Immodium AD for her to take to stop it, even with the C Diff.
They called an ambulance to take her to the hospital yet again, and Sis and I met her there. After several tests were done she was admitted and two pints each of frozen platelets and blood were ordered. It took until 5:30 p.m. to get her to a room, and by the time Sis and I finally left at 10 p.m. the blood and platelets still had not arrived.
Sis and I make quite a pair when it comes to taking care of Mom. We have our differences, but when we're in a hospital situation it's almost comical to see us work together. One of the nurses, seeing us turn Mom tonight for the second or third time, told us we really didn't have to do that. She'd be happy to do it for us. We explained we were used to it and considered ourselves to be consummate professionals by this time.
We advised the nurses on how to clean Mom up, how to administer medication, what cream to use on her behind, what type of diet she was on, how often she had to be turned, what to watch out for concerning her dementia, and a host of other things.
Then we asked for the report on the chest x-ray and the EKG that was done in the Emergency Room to aid us in our diagnostic prowess.
We aren't MD's, but we play them on the blog. And sometimes I think we might even know more about Mom's case than they do.
I'm thinking they will do another endoscopy on Mom tomorrow to see where all the bleeding is coming from this time. One would think that if she's vomiting clots it must be from somewhere in the upper GI tract. My hope is that they don't have to do yet another colonoscopy.
I'll be meeting with her doctor tomorrow morning at dawn thirty to see what he has to say. I'll try to get an update out later.
I got a call at work today about noon telling me she had been sick in therapy and had thrown up blood clots. This after a solid day of constant diarrhea the day before, which was unusual even with the C Diff. It got so bad the doctor prescribed something stronger than Immodium AD for her to take to stop it, even with the C Diff.
They called an ambulance to take her to the hospital yet again, and Sis and I met her there. After several tests were done she was admitted and two pints each of frozen platelets and blood were ordered. It took until 5:30 p.m. to get her to a room, and by the time Sis and I finally left at 10 p.m. the blood and platelets still had not arrived.
Sis and I make quite a pair when it comes to taking care of Mom. We have our differences, but when we're in a hospital situation it's almost comical to see us work together. One of the nurses, seeing us turn Mom tonight for the second or third time, told us we really didn't have to do that. She'd be happy to do it for us. We explained we were used to it and considered ourselves to be consummate professionals by this time.
We advised the nurses on how to clean Mom up, how to administer medication, what cream to use on her behind, what type of diet she was on, how often she had to be turned, what to watch out for concerning her dementia, and a host of other things.
Then we asked for the report on the chest x-ray and the EKG that was done in the Emergency Room to aid us in our diagnostic prowess.
We aren't MD's, but we play them on the blog. And sometimes I think we might even know more about Mom's case than they do.
I'm thinking they will do another endoscopy on Mom tomorrow to see where all the bleeding is coming from this time. One would think that if she's vomiting clots it must be from somewhere in the upper GI tract. My hope is that they don't have to do yet another colonoscopy.
I'll be meeting with her doctor tomorrow morning at dawn thirty to see what he has to say. I'll try to get an update out later.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Biting Off More Than I Should Chew
It seems I am more ambitious than smart.
My idea to take Mom to the house for an afternoon is obviously not a good one. Son pointed out that she is still suffering from C Diff, and to take her to the house might be a bigger mountain than I should tackle. Someone else pointed out that it would be extremely hard to handle this by myself. While I had hoped to enlist the help of Hubster, I can see that even with his help it would probably be more than should be done. And, with the infection still present, it really isn't smart to do something like this.
Add to that the fact that I feel like a rat not getting the OK from Sis, and you pretty much have the whole thing wrapped up. Mom's not going home for a visit.
Instead, I plan to take her to Dairy Queen and over to see one of her friends who is due for some major surgery in the next few weeks. Mom won't be getting out of the car, but the friend will come out to visit for a few minutes. They've missed each other, and with Mom so far away and with the infection, it's been hard for her friend to see her on a regular basis.
I think the visit tomorrow will be short. I have much to do this weekend and a very short time in which to do it. Nowadays things are too busy too much of the time.
Appreciate your family. Love them, and let them know they're loved. You never know when life can change.
My idea to take Mom to the house for an afternoon is obviously not a good one. Son pointed out that she is still suffering from C Diff, and to take her to the house might be a bigger mountain than I should tackle. Someone else pointed out that it would be extremely hard to handle this by myself. While I had hoped to enlist the help of Hubster, I can see that even with his help it would probably be more than should be done. And, with the infection still present, it really isn't smart to do something like this.
Add to that the fact that I feel like a rat not getting the OK from Sis, and you pretty much have the whole thing wrapped up. Mom's not going home for a visit.
Instead, I plan to take her to Dairy Queen and over to see one of her friends who is due for some major surgery in the next few weeks. Mom won't be getting out of the car, but the friend will come out to visit for a few minutes. They've missed each other, and with Mom so far away and with the infection, it's been hard for her friend to see her on a regular basis.
I think the visit tomorrow will be short. I have much to do this weekend and a very short time in which to do it. Nowadays things are too busy too much of the time.
Appreciate your family. Love them, and let them know they're loved. You never know when life can change.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Would You Like Some Gizzards With That?
Mom has been craving chicken livers all week long. Every time I talk to her on the phone or see her, all she can talk about is (1) her hair appointment today and what time it is, and (2) chicken livers.
She leads a wildly exciting life at the rehab center.
Today it finally really was Friday, and she finally got her hair done. One down, one to go.
For lunch today I decided to try out a place that had been recommended by several people at work. When I mentioned Mom wanted chicken livers, they said this was the definitive place to go:
She leads a wildly exciting life at the rehab center.
Today it finally really was Friday, and she finally got her hair done. One down, one to go.
For lunch today I decided to try out a place that had been recommended by several people at work. When I mentioned Mom wanted chicken livers, they said this was the definitive place to go:
And so I went Chris went.
I decided to get the full order of livers instead of the half order since I was going to have some for lunch and give Mom the rest for dinner. I thought I might get twelve or fifteen livers. Little did I know that I would get almost TWO POUNDS of chicken livers in the full order.
I ate lunch, then took the rest to the rehab center. I felt kind of like I was in a Bible story with loaves and fishes, only this time it was chicken livers I was dispensing to the residents. And yea, verily, the livers did multiply until all were fed.
Afterwards there was still half a dinner plate full of livers left for Mom that I thought she'd never finish. But she ate every single last one, down to the crumbs. And then they served the "A Taste of Paris" dinner they'd prepared for tonight so she ate half of that. This is the same woman who used to eat a tablespoon of this and a teaspoon of that. Now that she's feeling better she's eating like a farm hand.
With apologies to all you farm hands out there.
During dinner there was a lady at a table across the room from Mom who was new as of today. She was disoriented and thought it was breakfast time instead of dinner time. As the meal wore on she became more and more agitated, and it was apparent she was scared out of her wits. She didn't recognize her surroundings or any of the people there. She didn't know where she was or why. I went over to try to calm her down since Mom was doing well, but she was inconsolable. She wanted her son, and she kept asking for someone to let her speak to him on the phone. The poor woman just wept and wept.
Finally, seeing they weren't going to be able to calm her down short of drugging her, the staff called her son and had him speak to her. Her granddaughter showed up within the next few minutes, and her son followed soon thereafter.
During all of this I kept thinking about Mom. Sure, it's been rough dealing with her the way she's been. It's been rough knowing the Mom we knew will likely never come back. It's been rough dealing with the challenges she has to face both now and in the future.
But all in all, we've been blessed.
Sure, Mom sees relatives that are actually other people. But she knows where she is. She may not know what day it is, but she knows why she is where she is. She may not be able to take herself to the bathroom, but she's not scared to be left at the rehab center by herself. She may not be altogether "with it" but she has it together enough to carry on a conversation, be in control of her emotions, and tell us she loves us.
And that's worth two pounds of chicken livers any day.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
I Have A Plan
Since I took Mom for the drive last week I've been thinking. That's always a dangerous thing to have happen, but it may be really dangerous this time.
I'm thinking about picking Mom up Sunday and taking her to her house to spend the day.
I thought I could fix her a nice lunch, let her take a nap in her own bed, feed her dinner, then take her back to the rehab center. It would give her a day away, but it would put her back into familiar surroundings for a while.
Of course, I'd have to handle all the transfers from wheelchair to bed and/or toilet and back by myself. If there was any cleaning up to do, it would be up to me.
And if Mom gets really depressed when she has to go back, that will be my fault as well.
Because really, I don't have to take her there. I can just let her live where she is for the time being until we move her to either the assisted living place or the nursing home, whichever she is most able to handle.
Is it cruel to take her home again? Or would it be nice for her to visit the place?
Sis will be against it totally. She had a friend whose mother was in much the same situation as Mom. They took her home for Thanksgiving and it took her until Christmas to recover. If I do this, I don't think I'll tell Sis.
I think I'm looking at this as a way of getting Mom ready to visit for Thanksgiving. Maybe if I can take her home like this several times before Thanksgiving, it won't be such a big deal for her if we have Thanksgiving at the house the way we always do.
But I need advice. Will it harm her to do this? What do you think?
I'm thinking about picking Mom up Sunday and taking her to her house to spend the day.
I thought I could fix her a nice lunch, let her take a nap in her own bed, feed her dinner, then take her back to the rehab center. It would give her a day away, but it would put her back into familiar surroundings for a while.
Of course, I'd have to handle all the transfers from wheelchair to bed and/or toilet and back by myself. If there was any cleaning up to do, it would be up to me.
And if Mom gets really depressed when she has to go back, that will be my fault as well.
Because really, I don't have to take her there. I can just let her live where she is for the time being until we move her to either the assisted living place or the nursing home, whichever she is most able to handle.
Is it cruel to take her home again? Or would it be nice for her to visit the place?
Sis will be against it totally. She had a friend whose mother was in much the same situation as Mom. They took her home for Thanksgiving and it took her until Christmas to recover. If I do this, I don't think I'll tell Sis.
I think I'm looking at this as a way of getting Mom ready to visit for Thanksgiving. Maybe if I can take her home like this several times before Thanksgiving, it won't be such a big deal for her if we have Thanksgiving at the house the way we always do.
But I need advice. Will it harm her to do this? What do you think?
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Is It Friday Yet?
It's been a week of Fridays so far in Mom's mind.
Every day when I speak to her, either on the phone or in person, she asks me what time her hair appointment is that day. And every day I tell her that her appointment isn't until Friday and not to worry about it because they'll come to get her when it's time. And every day she tells me that she thought that day was Friday. Again.
It must be like living the movie Groundhog Day in real life. I don't envy her at all.
However, I must admit to running out of patience tonight when she made me call Sis to find out when the dadgum hair appointment was.
"Hello?"
"WHEN. IS. THE. HAIR. APPOINTMENT. BECAUSE. MOM. IS. DRIVING. ME. CRAZY. TONIGHT." thru gritted teeth.
"So what else is new?"
Her appetite has picked up quite a bit. She does best with finger food, but manages well with a spoon if she can only see what is on her plate. Her eyesight is severely compromised, so the best she can do is "feel" her way around the plate with the spoon, catching what food she can as she scrapes her way around it. It works for her.
I tried to take her outside this evening, but we had a bathroom emergency. Since the aides were having a meeting with the wound care nurse, the emergency turned into a mess. Because of that they just cleaned it up and got her ready for bed. I suggested they try sitz baths with her to ease the pain on her behind, but the cream they're using may be numbing the area somewhat. I hope it is, because it looks just terrible.
Tomorrow is Sis' day. The next day I go back will be Friday.
Again.
Every day when I speak to her, either on the phone or in person, she asks me what time her hair appointment is that day. And every day I tell her that her appointment isn't until Friday and not to worry about it because they'll come to get her when it's time. And every day she tells me that she thought that day was Friday. Again.
It must be like living the movie Groundhog Day in real life. I don't envy her at all.
However, I must admit to running out of patience tonight when she made me call Sis to find out when the dadgum hair appointment was.
"Hello?"
"WHEN. IS. THE. HAIR. APPOINTMENT. BECAUSE. MOM. IS. DRIVING. ME. CRAZY. TONIGHT." thru gritted teeth.
"So what else is new?"
Her appetite has picked up quite a bit. She does best with finger food, but manages well with a spoon if she can only see what is on her plate. Her eyesight is severely compromised, so the best she can do is "feel" her way around the plate with the spoon, catching what food she can as she scrapes her way around it. It works for her.
I tried to take her outside this evening, but we had a bathroom emergency. Since the aides were having a meeting with the wound care nurse, the emergency turned into a mess. Because of that they just cleaned it up and got her ready for bed. I suggested they try sitz baths with her to ease the pain on her behind, but the cream they're using may be numbing the area somewhat. I hope it is, because it looks just terrible.
Tomorrow is Sis' day. The next day I go back will be Friday.
Again.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
It Isn't All Candy And Flowers, Folks
Mom had one of the aides dial the phone for her today so she could call me at work.
It seems as though the C Diff came back with a vengeance today. Mom told me she couldn't stand much more of this, and my heart broke for her knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do. She cried and cried as she spoke, and I tried to console her the best I could until Sis got there. Thankfully she was only minutes away.
I left work early in order to see the doctor and find out what his thoughts were. I caught him just as he was leaving since I got there late. He took the time to tell me everything that was going on, including the fact that he was going to increase the medicine for her C Diff, run another test to see if it was the weaker or stronger form, and continue with a different cream for her raw behind. He answered any questions I had, and then told me we may actually have to hold off on her surgery yet again if this stuff doesn't clear up. He realizes it's a risk, but he believes it's more of a risk to send her into surgery with this problem.
I went in to see Mom after speaking with Doc, and found her being cleaned up once again. I knew her bottom was raw, but I had no idea how raw it was. It was bleeding from open sores. Every time she has to be cleaned up, it feels like fire attacking her behind.
And there's not a thing we can do about it.
While Sis and I were there she had another episode. She pressed the button for an aide right away, but she was in so much pain that Sis did something I've never seen her do before. She put on a pair of gloves, got a warm washcloth, had me roll Mom over, and went to work.
You have to realize how big a deal this is. This is the same sister who gags when anyone even mentions the word "snot" - the same sister who gagged when she changed her own children's dirty diapers - and yet she did this for Mom without blinking twice. I was so proud of her I almost cried.
Of course Mom, upon finding out what Sis was about to do and knowing her history, said, "Don't you let her throw up on my butt! That'll hurt more than the poop!"
And then she laughed so hard she had to be cleaned up even more.
Please pray for this crap (and I do mean CRAP) to heal soon. Mom is so weary of it.
It seems as though the C Diff came back with a vengeance today. Mom told me she couldn't stand much more of this, and my heart broke for her knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do. She cried and cried as she spoke, and I tried to console her the best I could until Sis got there. Thankfully she was only minutes away.
I left work early in order to see the doctor and find out what his thoughts were. I caught him just as he was leaving since I got there late. He took the time to tell me everything that was going on, including the fact that he was going to increase the medicine for her C Diff, run another test to see if it was the weaker or stronger form, and continue with a different cream for her raw behind. He answered any questions I had, and then told me we may actually have to hold off on her surgery yet again if this stuff doesn't clear up. He realizes it's a risk, but he believes it's more of a risk to send her into surgery with this problem.
I went in to see Mom after speaking with Doc, and found her being cleaned up once again. I knew her bottom was raw, but I had no idea how raw it was. It was bleeding from open sores. Every time she has to be cleaned up, it feels like fire attacking her behind.
And there's not a thing we can do about it.
While Sis and I were there she had another episode. She pressed the button for an aide right away, but she was in so much pain that Sis did something I've never seen her do before. She put on a pair of gloves, got a warm washcloth, had me roll Mom over, and went to work.
You have to realize how big a deal this is. This is the same sister who gags when anyone even mentions the word "snot" - the same sister who gagged when she changed her own children's dirty diapers - and yet she did this for Mom without blinking twice. I was so proud of her I almost cried.
Of course Mom, upon finding out what Sis was about to do and knowing her history, said, "Don't you let her throw up on my butt! That'll hurt more than the poop!"
And then she laughed so hard she had to be cleaned up even more.
Please pray for this crap (and I do mean CRAP) to heal soon. Mom is so weary of it.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Call Me Anytime
Today I got a call from the rehab center. They usually call when Mom changes medication, or to give me her hemoglobin or INR count, or to let me know she needs this or that.
But today's call was different.
IT WAS FROM MOM.
Please bear in mind that Mom hasn't called me on her own since June 12, 2008, the night of her stroke. She hasn't been able to dial the numbers. And to be honest, I'd all but given up hope that she'd be able to use her new FotoDialer that we got her for her birthday.
After I got everyone's photos loaded into it and the numbers programmed in, I took it to her along with a phone from her house. The phone in the rehab center is difficult for her to use, so I hooked up hers instead. I worked with her for fifteen minutes, always using the same, measured tone, always saying the same three things - "Pick up the phone. Set it to the side. Press the button next to the person you want to call." She just couldn't seem to get it. So we stopped.
I asked Sis to work with her the next day, and I asked the nurses to have the occupational therapist work with her as well. Then I forgot about it all.
Until today.
I was sitting here at work when my cell phone went off. It was my cousin, wanting to know the address for this blog. While I was talking to her, my phone's call waiting went off. I answered, and Mom was on the other end!
It didn't matter that she thought today was Friday and wanted to know why I wasn't coming up until after work because she was supposed to get her hair done and wanted me there. It didn't matter that she told me we should have gotten ice cream for Raymond, the imaginary aide that "went with us" on the ride yesterday, because "he was most disappointed and told her so" today. It didn't even matter that she dropped the phone while we were talking.
MOM CALLED ME. ON HER OWN.
And that, my friends, has made my whole day.
But today's call was different.
IT WAS FROM MOM.
Please bear in mind that Mom hasn't called me on her own since June 12, 2008, the night of her stroke. She hasn't been able to dial the numbers. And to be honest, I'd all but given up hope that she'd be able to use her new FotoDialer that we got her for her birthday.
After I got everyone's photos loaded into it and the numbers programmed in, I took it to her along with a phone from her house. The phone in the rehab center is difficult for her to use, so I hooked up hers instead. I worked with her for fifteen minutes, always using the same, measured tone, always saying the same three things - "Pick up the phone. Set it to the side. Press the button next to the person you want to call." She just couldn't seem to get it. So we stopped.
I asked Sis to work with her the next day, and I asked the nurses to have the occupational therapist work with her as well. Then I forgot about it all.
Until today.
I was sitting here at work when my cell phone went off. It was my cousin, wanting to know the address for this blog. While I was talking to her, my phone's call waiting went off. I answered, and Mom was on the other end!
It didn't matter that she thought today was Friday and wanted to know why I wasn't coming up until after work because she was supposed to get her hair done and wanted me there. It didn't matter that she told me we should have gotten ice cream for Raymond, the imaginary aide that "went with us" on the ride yesterday, because "he was most disappointed and told her so" today. It didn't even matter that she dropped the phone while we were talking.
MOM CALLED ME. ON HER OWN.
And that, my friends, has made my whole day.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
C'mon Momma, Let's Go For A Drive
Today I broke Mom out.
We went for a drive, she and I. We were gone from the rehab center almost two hours, just driving around, looking at places, visiting with people. I think she thoroughly enjoyed herself.
While we were out we stopped and picked up flyers for condos that were for sale in the area. We hit several different condo neighborhoods. and found several different condos that she thought she'd like to live in some day. "Some day" is the operative phrase here. Reality is that she will likely never be able to live in a condo, but it made her happy to shop, so shop we did.
We stopped at a drive-in and had popcorn chicken and a chocolate milkshake with extra chocolate. She ate half the chicken and drank all of the milkshake. We drove by Sis' house and she and her husband came out to visit for a while. They also helped pull Mom up in the seat, because she'd drifted south as we drove.
From there it was back to the rehab center. Mom was tired out and ready for bed by the time we got there. Once inside she settled gratefully into bed, thanked me for a good time, and was out like a light.
It was a good day.
We went for a drive, she and I. We were gone from the rehab center almost two hours, just driving around, looking at places, visiting with people. I think she thoroughly enjoyed herself.
While we were out we stopped and picked up flyers for condos that were for sale in the area. We hit several different condo neighborhoods. and found several different condos that she thought she'd like to live in some day. "Some day" is the operative phrase here. Reality is that she will likely never be able to live in a condo, but it made her happy to shop, so shop we did.
We stopped at a drive-in and had popcorn chicken and a chocolate milkshake with extra chocolate. She ate half the chicken and drank all of the milkshake. We drove by Sis' house and she and her husband came out to visit for a while. They also helped pull Mom up in the seat, because she'd drifted south as we drove.
From there it was back to the rehab center. Mom was tired out and ready for bed by the time we got there. Once inside she settled gratefully into bed, thanked me for a good time, and was out like a light.
It was a good day.
Such A Deal...
For the past week or so I've been driving Mom's car. It's an ugly story having to do with transmissions and transfer cases and bearings and stuff you'd really be bored by, so I won't take the opportunity to let your mind delve into the pit of all things automotively wrong with my life at this moment.
You're welcome.
Her car is a 1999 Buick Century. The only thing wrong with it is that it has a cassette player instead of a CD player. It's in mint condition...the typical "little old lady" car.
And it has a whopping 21,000 miles on it.
I'm not a mathematician, but I think that averages out to about 2333 miles per year, more or less. My tennis shoes get more wear than the tires on this car, and I hardly ever walk anywhere, as is evidenced by the size of my behind.
Now, the original plan was this: Pay off the car, purchase a Smart Car, hand my car down to The Girl, and her car would go to The Boy on his sixteenth birthday. Now we're not so sure. We're actually thinking of buying the Buick from Mom.
It will take a lot to make up the difference in payments over the cost of gasoline if we buy the Smart Car. A whole lot. With the Buick we'll have a car that will be less gas efficient, but a lot more comfortable. It will also be able to hold Mom's wheelchair, meaning we'll be able to take her places relatively easily.
And to top it all off, with Mom's dementia, she'll think we're still taking her places in HER car, which will make her feel like she still has some sort of independence. I can't help but think that's a good thing.
The problem will come when she wants to trade it in.....
You're welcome.
Her car is a 1999 Buick Century. The only thing wrong with it is that it has a cassette player instead of a CD player. It's in mint condition...the typical "little old lady" car.
And it has a whopping 21,000 miles on it.
I'm not a mathematician, but I think that averages out to about 2333 miles per year, more or less. My tennis shoes get more wear than the tires on this car, and I hardly ever walk anywhere, as is evidenced by the size of my behind.
Now, the original plan was this: Pay off the car, purchase a Smart Car, hand my car down to The Girl, and her car would go to The Boy on his sixteenth birthday. Now we're not so sure. We're actually thinking of buying the Buick from Mom.
It will take a lot to make up the difference in payments over the cost of gasoline if we buy the Smart Car. A whole lot. With the Buick we'll have a car that will be less gas efficient, but a lot more comfortable. It will also be able to hold Mom's wheelchair, meaning we'll be able to take her places relatively easily.
And to top it all off, with Mom's dementia, she'll think we're still taking her places in HER car, which will make her feel like she still has some sort of independence. I can't help but think that's a good thing.
The problem will come when she wants to trade it in.....
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Exhibitionism Is Not The Name Of The Game
There is one aide at the rehab center who insists on leaving Mom undressed from the waist down on her bed when we aren't there. I have no idea why he does this, except for the fact that it may be easier for him to clean her up when she has a bowel movement. He's never explained himself, and usually has her covered with at least a sheet. He knows we do not appreciate it, because when we come in to visit we always have him get her dressed and out of bed.
And yet it continues.
Today Sis went in to see Mom and found the door to her room wide open, no curtain drawn, and Mom lying there completely naked from the waist down. Any visitors to the building would have been able to see her in that state. Sis saw a folded sheet in the chair next to her bed.
Mom constantly complains of being cold, probably due to the blood thinners they have her taking. Doesn't it make sense that if she was left half naked on her bed that she would be at least covered with a sheet? Especially if her door was left wide open for any and everyone to see? Yet no one would admit to leaving her that way today. Everyone Sis complained to washed their hands of it. "I don't know who did it, but it wasn't ME," they said.
So Monday I'll be talking to the head of nursing to lodge a complaint. This is not only ridiculous, but it shows no respect for Mom whatsoever. How can anyone in that state have any dignity at all?
In addition, she just had her hair done Friday evening. She was given a shower on Saturday and they washed out all the work she'd paid to have done the day before. They'll be hearing about that as well.
Common sense does not seem to be a prerequisite for working at this rehab center. It makes me wonder about the therapists if the aides are this dense.
As for the letter to Doc, I did send it. I got a call from him on Friday apologizing for his attitude the day I saw him. There will be no more misunderstandings. We have things straight now, and we know what each other expects. That's a good thing.
There are more battles ahead, I know. We'll be selling Mom's car in the very near future and putting the money into savings for her care. As soon as she moves into whatever facility she can move into, be that assisted living or nursing home, we'll start to disassemble the house and get it sold. All of it will be so very hard to do.
But our memories and our lives are not the things. Our memories and our lives are the people we love and the time we have to spend with them. Without the people, the things are just ashes in the wind. So to keep Mom comfortable and healthy and reasonably happy for as long as we can, we'll sell the things.
She's worth much, much more.
And yet it continues.
Today Sis went in to see Mom and found the door to her room wide open, no curtain drawn, and Mom lying there completely naked from the waist down. Any visitors to the building would have been able to see her in that state. Sis saw a folded sheet in the chair next to her bed.
Mom constantly complains of being cold, probably due to the blood thinners they have her taking. Doesn't it make sense that if she was left half naked on her bed that she would be at least covered with a sheet? Especially if her door was left wide open for any and everyone to see? Yet no one would admit to leaving her that way today. Everyone Sis complained to washed their hands of it. "I don't know who did it, but it wasn't ME," they said.
So Monday I'll be talking to the head of nursing to lodge a complaint. This is not only ridiculous, but it shows no respect for Mom whatsoever. How can anyone in that state have any dignity at all?
In addition, she just had her hair done Friday evening. She was given a shower on Saturday and they washed out all the work she'd paid to have done the day before. They'll be hearing about that as well.
Common sense does not seem to be a prerequisite for working at this rehab center. It makes me wonder about the therapists if the aides are this dense.
As for the letter to Doc, I did send it. I got a call from him on Friday apologizing for his attitude the day I saw him. There will be no more misunderstandings. We have things straight now, and we know what each other expects. That's a good thing.
There are more battles ahead, I know. We'll be selling Mom's car in the very near future and putting the money into savings for her care. As soon as she moves into whatever facility she can move into, be that assisted living or nursing home, we'll start to disassemble the house and get it sold. All of it will be so very hard to do.
But our memories and our lives are not the things. Our memories and our lives are the people we love and the time we have to spend with them. Without the people, the things are just ashes in the wind. So to keep Mom comfortable and healthy and reasonably happy for as long as we can, we'll sell the things.
She's worth much, much more.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Stress Happens, And It Has Nothing To Do With Hormones
After the fiasco of yesterday, I have taken the day to reorganize, recoup, renew, re-whatever else I needed to do to get yesterday out of my system.
Mostly feel sorry for myself and cry a lot. I call it the monthly Pity Party. I have one just about every month, because that's just about how long I can go before the stress gets to me and I have to let it all out somehow.
It ain't pretty, but it's better than kicking the dog or beating the kids.
Sometimes.
I wrote a letter to Doc to make sure we were on the same page as well.
Mom had my cousins call me at work today to see if she could have a Pepsi. They handed the phone to me, and when I told her no, unless it was thickened, she hung up on me. I'll pay for that tonight when I go see her.
In the meantime I'm still waiting on a photo from one more person to be able to set up Mom's photodialer for her. I can't wait to see what happens when she can call out. Heaven help us all.
Stress happens. Thank God He gives us an outlet for it.
Mostly feel sorry for myself and cry a lot. I call it the monthly Pity Party. I have one just about every month, because that's just about how long I can go before the stress gets to me and I have to let it all out somehow.
It ain't pretty, but it's better than kicking the dog or beating the kids.
Sometimes.
I wrote a letter to Doc to make sure we were on the same page as well.
Dear Doc,I truly hope we are.
I wanted to take a few minutes to be sure we were OK with each other after yesterday.
Just to be certain you understand, in no way do I doubt your abilities as a physician. I know that you have the talent and the “smarts” to handle Mom’s health care all on your own. Please be certain that both Sis and I trust you implicitly in this regard.
Having said this, please also understand that while you’ve been at this for almost 30 years, it’s our first time going through something as devastating as this. We don’t know anything about it. We’re ignorant of almost everything except what we can glean from the internet. We’re going to have questions and concerns about Mom and her care, but that in NO WAY reflects on you. It’s just information we need to set our minds at ease – to let us know we’re doing the best we can to take care of
her.
It’s an awesome responsibility for me personally, being as I have her medical power of attorney. Right or wrong, I feel as though if anything goes wrong with her it’s my fault. I know certain things won’t ever improve, but I continue to look for the best life possible for her in the future. Needless to say, the stress level sometimes runs high.
If I’ve said anything to make you doubt my trust in you or your ability, please forgive me. It was never intended that way. And for pete’s sake don’t tell Sis I wrote... she’ll never forgive me. I’ve embarrassed her enough for a lifetime throughout this whole thing anyway with all the bawling and the snotting and the wailing….I always was one for drama, remember?
Just know that she’s my mom, and I love her. And I trust you with her. And I’m sorry. And I hope we’re back on an even keel now, because I’d much rather have us smiling and joking while we’re talking instead of feeling as though we’re at odds. I promise, no more Pepsi on the sly until you say it’s OK, no matter how much she begs.
Are we OK now?
Mom had my cousins call me at work today to see if she could have a Pepsi. They handed the phone to me, and when I told her no, unless it was thickened, she hung up on me. I'll pay for that tonight when I go see her.
In the meantime I'm still waiting on a photo from one more person to be able to set up Mom's photodialer for her. I can't wait to see what happens when she can call out. Heaven help us all.
Stress happens. Thank God He gives us an outlet for it.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
I'm So Tired Of It All. Can I Stop Now, Please?
Today was not high on the list of good days.
I've been having a running war with Mom's doctor's office. Rather than just give her doctor a message that I'd like to have him call me regarding questions I may have about her care, they act as if I have no part in it. They tell me they prefer to deal directly with the rehab facility nurses. When I tell them that I am the one in charge of her care and I am the one that needs answers, they refer me to the rehab nurses.
And we go round and round.
So today I went to the rehab facility and met with Doc, who was a high school friend. Only Doc seemed to be a bit defensive today. I asked the questions I needed to ask, as did Sis. We got the answers we needed to get. And then I asked about the Great Wall set up by his staff.
And was met with another Great Wall.
Now, Doc and I have never had a problem communicating in the past, but for some reason there was a Great Amount Of Tension today. So I fussed and fumed about it for a while, then I did what Christians are supposed to do.
I shanghaied him on the way out of the facility.
I told him I knew he had great responsibility on his shoulders, and I apologized if I had done anything to make things harder for him.
It was then I found out that he felt I was questioning his judgment in Mom's care. He told me he'd been doing this for thirty some odd years, and he really did know what he was doing. I told him I had no doubt as to his knowledge or his care of Mom, but that this was my first time going through something like this. I'm going to ask a lot of questions because I don't know things and because I worry, not because I'm second-guessing him.
And of course, I cried.
We left each other on better terms, I hope. Understanding each other more. I'll try to let him be the doctor, and I'll try to worry less. Hopefully we'll meet in the middle somewhere, and Mom will benefit from it.
As for right now, I'm tired of dealing with it all.
I could whine more, but I'll leave it there. You get the idea. Suffice it to say the remainder of the day has been somewhat of an emotional upheaval. Look at me cross-eyed and you'll either get laid low or I'll burst into tears.
As Mom would say, "Have you stopped taking your medication?"
No, Mom. But I wish I had some more. A whole bunch more.
I've been having a running war with Mom's doctor's office. Rather than just give her doctor a message that I'd like to have him call me regarding questions I may have about her care, they act as if I have no part in it. They tell me they prefer to deal directly with the rehab facility nurses. When I tell them that I am the one in charge of her care and I am the one that needs answers, they refer me to the rehab nurses.
And we go round and round.
So today I went to the rehab facility and met with Doc, who was a high school friend. Only Doc seemed to be a bit defensive today. I asked the questions I needed to ask, as did Sis. We got the answers we needed to get. And then I asked about the Great Wall set up by his staff.
And was met with another Great Wall.
Now, Doc and I have never had a problem communicating in the past, but for some reason there was a Great Amount Of Tension today. So I fussed and fumed about it for a while, then I did what Christians are supposed to do.
I shanghaied him on the way out of the facility.
I told him I knew he had great responsibility on his shoulders, and I apologized if I had done anything to make things harder for him.
It was then I found out that he felt I was questioning his judgment in Mom's care. He told me he'd been doing this for thirty some odd years, and he really did know what he was doing. I told him I had no doubt as to his knowledge or his care of Mom, but that this was my first time going through something like this. I'm going to ask a lot of questions because I don't know things and because I worry, not because I'm second-guessing him.
And of course, I cried.
We left each other on better terms, I hope. Understanding each other more. I'll try to let him be the doctor, and I'll try to worry less. Hopefully we'll meet in the middle somewhere, and Mom will benefit from it.
As for right now, I'm tired of dealing with it all.
I could whine more, but I'll leave it there. You get the idea. Suffice it to say the remainder of the day has been somewhat of an emotional upheaval. Look at me cross-eyed and you'll either get laid low or I'll burst into tears.
As Mom would say, "Have you stopped taking your medication?"
No, Mom. But I wish I had some more. A whole bunch more.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Hail, Hail, The Gang's All Here
I did not see Mom this weekend.
I went in for a few minutes on Friday night on the way to my part-time job, but only for a few minutes. Son and his family were in town, and since I knew they would be there Saturday along with Sis, I didn't go then. When Sunday came around I had a migraine and ended up spending the time I'd normally spend with Mom in bed. However, Son and his family were there, so I didn't feel so very bad about not going.
Add to that the fact that my cousin from Alabama and his wife came into town Sunday night, and my cousin from Texarkana and his wife came in tonight, and I thought my bases were pretty well covered. That is, until I went to see Mom tonight.
Even though I called and explained to her about my migraine last night, she thought she'd done something to drive me away and that's why I hadn't been there for two days. Don't bother packing my bags, I'm already on the guilt trip without them.
On a more positive note, she fed herself dinner tonight. She actually asked for spaghetti, something she usually won't touch with a ten-foot pole. I cut it up for her and handed her the spoon, and she was able to eat almost all of it by herself. True, she was messy, but she ate it herself. That was a BIG thing.
In addition, she got to sit in a recliner tonight after dinner. She enjoyed that immensely, so I asked if she would be able to do that every day. The answer was yes. Tomorrow I'll be taking off work early to talk with her doctor about the continued problems with the C Diff, as well as the fact that he is not allowing her to drink regular liquids. As of now all she can have is thickened liquids.
Imagine having to drink water the consistency of liquid jello. Or coffee. Or milk. None of the liquids Mom drinks now slakes her thirst because they are all of that consistency. Only when we sneak her Pepsi or regular water does she get anything that isn't thickened. We'll be talking with the doctor about that, trying to convince him to rescind the order tomorrow.
Another concern is her blood count. It's down to 9.0 again, meaning there is certainly going to be another transfusion in her future. Where is the bleeding coming from, and why can't it be stopped? And why are they starting the Coumadin up again if she's bleeding internally somewhere?
Her health is a fine, fine line to walk. I just want to make sure we're walking a straight line instead of in a circle.
One day at a time....
I went in for a few minutes on Friday night on the way to my part-time job, but only for a few minutes. Son and his family were in town, and since I knew they would be there Saturday along with Sis, I didn't go then. When Sunday came around I had a migraine and ended up spending the time I'd normally spend with Mom in bed. However, Son and his family were there, so I didn't feel so very bad about not going.
Add to that the fact that my cousin from Alabama and his wife came into town Sunday night, and my cousin from Texarkana and his wife came in tonight, and I thought my bases were pretty well covered. That is, until I went to see Mom tonight.
Even though I called and explained to her about my migraine last night, she thought she'd done something to drive me away and that's why I hadn't been there for two days. Don't bother packing my bags, I'm already on the guilt trip without them.
On a more positive note, she fed herself dinner tonight. She actually asked for spaghetti, something she usually won't touch with a ten-foot pole. I cut it up for her and handed her the spoon, and she was able to eat almost all of it by herself. True, she was messy, but she ate it herself. That was a BIG thing.
In addition, she got to sit in a recliner tonight after dinner. She enjoyed that immensely, so I asked if she would be able to do that every day. The answer was yes. Tomorrow I'll be taking off work early to talk with her doctor about the continued problems with the C Diff, as well as the fact that he is not allowing her to drink regular liquids. As of now all she can have is thickened liquids.
Imagine having to drink water the consistency of liquid jello. Or coffee. Or milk. None of the liquids Mom drinks now slakes her thirst because they are all of that consistency. Only when we sneak her Pepsi or regular water does she get anything that isn't thickened. We'll be talking with the doctor about that, trying to convince him to rescind the order tomorrow.
Another concern is her blood count. It's down to 9.0 again, meaning there is certainly going to be another transfusion in her future. Where is the bleeding coming from, and why can't it be stopped? And why are they starting the Coumadin up again if she's bleeding internally somewhere?
Her health is a fine, fine line to walk. I just want to make sure we're walking a straight line instead of in a circle.
One day at a time....
Thursday, August 7, 2008
It Ain't The Ritz, But You Pay The Same Amount For It
Today I looked at a nursing home for Mom in case she is unable to go to assisted living when she's discharged from rehab. Only I keep forgetting, you're supposed to call them "extended care centers" now.
A rose by any other name still smells of urine.
My grandmother died in the nursing home closest to me, and Mom made us promise we'd never put her in there. In the past few years another woman who was like a grandmother to me died of neglect at that same nursing home, cementing its fate in my mind. Mom will never see the inside of that place again.
I have looked at a couple of other nursing homes during the time Mom has been in rehab. My fear is the dementia will keep her from living in assisted living, and that was borne out when I last spoke with the director of the place we wanted her in. Mom will have to undergo a psychiatric test to see if she is mentally able to live somewhat on her own if we decide to go that way.
If she is able to pass the test and live in assisted living, the cost would be a full half of what it would be to put her in a nursing home. In assisted living she would have a one-bedroom apartment. In the nursing home she would have a room the size of her bedroom at home. Both places would prepare her meals for her and dispense medication. The only difference I can see is that there would be more supervision and less privacy in the nursing home. If that's what she needs, fine. But I wonder if we couldn't provide the same thing for her in an assisted care setting with a part-time companion.
I'm just thinking out loud here.
The nursing home I went to see today was smaller than most. It was secure and it was clean. There was no smell, either of hospital or of urine, in any of the hallways, rooms, dining areas, or common rooms. The common room was homey, and looked more like a large living room in someone's home. There was no one slumped in a chair and sitting at a nurse's desk. A pleasant smell of dinner was in the air, and floor to ceiling windows in the dining room looked out onto a wooded area.
This nursing home is in the process of being repainted, remodeled, refurbished. The people I met were all working with clients and seemed pleasant. Clients seemed to be well-cared for, clean and alert. It was almost as if they were expecting me, although I made a point of not calling before I came.
Of course, I'll check out the government reports on the place to see how it rates. But for now, I'd have to say it's a frontrunner in the nursing home race. It's halfway between Sis and me, more or less. It's close to the hospital Mom prefers. It's on the route I take home, so it wouldn't be out of the way to stop and visit.
But I'd still like to see her in assisted living.
Even if it ain't the Ritz.
A rose by any other name still smells of urine.
My grandmother died in the nursing home closest to me, and Mom made us promise we'd never put her in there. In the past few years another woman who was like a grandmother to me died of neglect at that same nursing home, cementing its fate in my mind. Mom will never see the inside of that place again.
I have looked at a couple of other nursing homes during the time Mom has been in rehab. My fear is the dementia will keep her from living in assisted living, and that was borne out when I last spoke with the director of the place we wanted her in. Mom will have to undergo a psychiatric test to see if she is mentally able to live somewhat on her own if we decide to go that way.
If she is able to pass the test and live in assisted living, the cost would be a full half of what it would be to put her in a nursing home. In assisted living she would have a one-bedroom apartment. In the nursing home she would have a room the size of her bedroom at home. Both places would prepare her meals for her and dispense medication. The only difference I can see is that there would be more supervision and less privacy in the nursing home. If that's what she needs, fine. But I wonder if we couldn't provide the same thing for her in an assisted care setting with a part-time companion.
I'm just thinking out loud here.
The nursing home I went to see today was smaller than most. It was secure and it was clean. There was no smell, either of hospital or of urine, in any of the hallways, rooms, dining areas, or common rooms. The common room was homey, and looked more like a large living room in someone's home. There was no one slumped in a chair and sitting at a nurse's desk. A pleasant smell of dinner was in the air, and floor to ceiling windows in the dining room looked out onto a wooded area.
This nursing home is in the process of being repainted, remodeled, refurbished. The people I met were all working with clients and seemed pleasant. Clients seemed to be well-cared for, clean and alert. It was almost as if they were expecting me, although I made a point of not calling before I came.
Of course, I'll check out the government reports on the place to see how it rates. But for now, I'd have to say it's a frontrunner in the nursing home race. It's halfway between Sis and me, more or less. It's close to the hospital Mom prefers. It's on the route I take home, so it wouldn't be out of the way to stop and visit.
But I'd still like to see her in assisted living.
Even if it ain't the Ritz.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Trading Places
Role reversal has taken on a whole new meaning.
Tonight as I sat with Mom for a while, she was suffering such discomfort from the C Diff that I almost hurt for her. In much the same way as I always wanted to take the hurt away from my children, I now find myself wanting to do that with my parent.
I don't mind taking care of Mom's needs. I want to be there for her. I want to help her in any way I can. I just always wanted her to remain the mother somehow, and me the child. Not the other way around.
Now I try to provide comfort and a listening ear to her, when she's been the one to provide that to me all these years. So where do I go now for my mothering? Or does this mean I finally have to grow up?
Somehow, instead of looking at this as an opportunity to shine, I'm looking at it as a role I didn't ask for and don't want. Realizing there is an end to everything is not the same as living the end of something. New normals are not always fun.
Tonight I took a germicidal cleanser that kills the C Diff spores up to the rehab center. They have been bad about cleaning under Mom's nails, and I wanted to make sure there was no contamination there to reinfect her. After a good soak and scrub they looked much better, and Mom was much happier with them. I left the cleanser there so that visitors could use it as they left, since good handwashing is key to prevention of the spread of this junk.
While I sat there with Mom she kept complaining about how much her stomach hurt. And, just as if she were my child, I tried to comfort her through the pain. She told me of her embarrassment during therapy sessions - how she no more than gets to therapy than she has to go to the bathroom. How when she stands up to use the walker, it all comes running out of her. How she wants to hide under a rock rather than have to be cleaned up yet again...and again...and again during the day.
I promised her it wouldn't last much longer. I reminded her of the medicine she was taking, and that it would take some time for it to work. I told her it was a terrible thing, and I was so sorry it had to happen to her.
Then I got the nurse to give her a pain pill so that she could go to sleep without feeling the pain in her stomach anymore. So that I wouldn't feel the pain of watching her hurt anymore.
After the pill took effect I washed my hands with the bacterial soap, kissed her on the head, and left.
And then I wished for the millionth time that I could call my Mom and talk about it all.
Tonight as I sat with Mom for a while, she was suffering such discomfort from the C Diff that I almost hurt for her. In much the same way as I always wanted to take the hurt away from my children, I now find myself wanting to do that with my parent.
I don't mind taking care of Mom's needs. I want to be there for her. I want to help her in any way I can. I just always wanted her to remain the mother somehow, and me the child. Not the other way around.
Now I try to provide comfort and a listening ear to her, when she's been the one to provide that to me all these years. So where do I go now for my mothering? Or does this mean I finally have to grow up?
Somehow, instead of looking at this as an opportunity to shine, I'm looking at it as a role I didn't ask for and don't want. Realizing there is an end to everything is not the same as living the end of something. New normals are not always fun.
Tonight I took a germicidal cleanser that kills the C Diff spores up to the rehab center. They have been bad about cleaning under Mom's nails, and I wanted to make sure there was no contamination there to reinfect her. After a good soak and scrub they looked much better, and Mom was much happier with them. I left the cleanser there so that visitors could use it as they left, since good handwashing is key to prevention of the spread of this junk.
While I sat there with Mom she kept complaining about how much her stomach hurt. And, just as if she were my child, I tried to comfort her through the pain. She told me of her embarrassment during therapy sessions - how she no more than gets to therapy than she has to go to the bathroom. How when she stands up to use the walker, it all comes running out of her. How she wants to hide under a rock rather than have to be cleaned up yet again...and again...and again during the day.
I promised her it wouldn't last much longer. I reminded her of the medicine she was taking, and that it would take some time for it to work. I told her it was a terrible thing, and I was so sorry it had to happen to her.
Then I got the nurse to give her a pain pill so that she could go to sleep without feeling the pain in her stomach anymore. So that I wouldn't feel the pain of watching her hurt anymore.
After the pill took effect I washed my hands with the bacterial soap, kissed her on the head, and left.
And then I wished for the millionth time that I could call my Mom and talk about it all.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
God's Drivng, So I Don't Have To
Today we were pleasantly surprised.
Due to the infection Mom has, she has been moved to a private room. I suspect it's also due to the fact that they're afraid anyone they put in a room with her will request to be moved again as well, but we'll take the gifts where we can get them. They get a double room to rent out, and Mom gets her privacy.
It's a win-win situation.
When I asked if she would remain there for the rest of the time she's in rehab, I was told there shouldn't be any reason to move her. I hope not, because each move seems to confuse her. The more we can keep things the same, the better off we are.
Along with that little piece of good news came a piece of not-so-good news. Mom's surgery, scheduled for the 12th, has to be postponed for two weeks. The primary care doctor feels as though the infection has taken a toll on Mom, and he wants to see her stronger before they proceed with clearing her carotids.
While I agree, I am at the same time frustrated. I really want these surgeries to be over and done with. If she is to gain or regain anything from a mental standpoint, it stands to reason that the longer we wait, the less chance there is of any benefit other than less risk of another stroke and improved circulation.
I'm not a real doctor, but I play one on the blog.
Yes, I'm tired of waiting. I want to know for certain sure that there is nothing else that will help her mental state. That I can either rejoice because it did help or that I can finally give up because it didn't. I don't like being in limbo, even though I am fairly certain of the outcome. I need surety.
I need black and white.
And somewhere inside, even though this is truly ALL ABOUT MOM AND NOT ME, it pisses me off that we have to wait...again.
How petty is that???
So we'll wait. And if the surgeries are postponed again we'll wait some more. And we'll keep on waiting until they're over.
Because God is in control of all of this...not me.
And I can't tell you how very glad I am about that.
Due to the infection Mom has, she has been moved to a private room. I suspect it's also due to the fact that they're afraid anyone they put in a room with her will request to be moved again as well, but we'll take the gifts where we can get them. They get a double room to rent out, and Mom gets her privacy.
It's a win-win situation.
When I asked if she would remain there for the rest of the time she's in rehab, I was told there shouldn't be any reason to move her. I hope not, because each move seems to confuse her. The more we can keep things the same, the better off we are.
Along with that little piece of good news came a piece of not-so-good news. Mom's surgery, scheduled for the 12th, has to be postponed for two weeks. The primary care doctor feels as though the infection has taken a toll on Mom, and he wants to see her stronger before they proceed with clearing her carotids.
While I agree, I am at the same time frustrated. I really want these surgeries to be over and done with. If she is to gain or regain anything from a mental standpoint, it stands to reason that the longer we wait, the less chance there is of any benefit other than less risk of another stroke and improved circulation.
I'm not a real doctor, but I play one on the blog.
Yes, I'm tired of waiting. I want to know for certain sure that there is nothing else that will help her mental state. That I can either rejoice because it did help or that I can finally give up because it didn't. I don't like being in limbo, even though I am fairly certain of the outcome. I need surety.
I need black and white.
And somewhere inside, even though this is truly ALL ABOUT MOM AND NOT ME, it pisses me off that we have to wait...again.
How petty is that???
So we'll wait. And if the surgeries are postponed again we'll wait some more. And we'll keep on waiting until they're over.
Because God is in control of all of this...not me.
And I can't tell you how very glad I am about that.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Yet Another Bug In The Works
Today I found out Mom has a bacterial infection called C-Diff, or C. Diff or See? Diff! or as Mom called it, Sea Salt. I have no idea how it's supposed to be abbreviated, but I'm sure my DIL THE DOCTOR does. (Had to throw that in, you know. Proud MIL and all...)
Anyhoo.
This is the reason Mom has been cramping up and subject to immense amounts of "output" this past week. I feel so sorry for her. Pepsi helps, but not enough. Every time she eats anything it goes straight through. Tonight I brought her a fresh peach, hoping to entice her to eat. She would have none of it, and told me the thought of it made her sick to her stomach. It's no wonder.
So to get rid of this evil bug, Mom will be taking an antibiotic three times a day for the next three weeks. We don't know yet if this will wreak havoc with the schedule set up for her surgery testing on Thursday of this week or her surgery on the 12th. I've asked the nurse to have her doctor (my high school chum) call me at work tomorrow when he visits the rehab center to see what he thinks.
In other news, her INR (blood thickness) is up over 6 again, meaning her blood is too thin. It's supposed to be around 2, so they're holding off on giving her the Coumadin for three days. The doctor has such a fine line to walk with this drug. I don't envy him at all.
Mom was short on stories today. She only told me that Pseudo Daughter had been up to dress her this morning. Mom couldn't understand how PD got there, because she's only fourteen and can't drive yet. I told her I didn't know, but at least she got her clothes on so that was something to be thankful for.
Unlike yesterday when we walked in on her practically in her birthday suit. Not a picture I want to remember.
I'm beginning to really roll with this fantasy stuff. I'm thinking I might actually be able to handle this long term. After all, it's been TWO WHOLE DAYS. I've set a new record.
Only time will tell.
Anyhoo.
This is the reason Mom has been cramping up and subject to immense amounts of "output" this past week. I feel so sorry for her. Pepsi helps, but not enough. Every time she eats anything it goes straight through. Tonight I brought her a fresh peach, hoping to entice her to eat. She would have none of it, and told me the thought of it made her sick to her stomach. It's no wonder.
So to get rid of this evil bug, Mom will be taking an antibiotic three times a day for the next three weeks. We don't know yet if this will wreak havoc with the schedule set up for her surgery testing on Thursday of this week or her surgery on the 12th. I've asked the nurse to have her doctor (my high school chum) call me at work tomorrow when he visits the rehab center to see what he thinks.
In other news, her INR (blood thickness) is up over 6 again, meaning her blood is too thin. It's supposed to be around 2, so they're holding off on giving her the Coumadin for three days. The doctor has such a fine line to walk with this drug. I don't envy him at all.
Mom was short on stories today. She only told me that Pseudo Daughter had been up to dress her this morning. Mom couldn't understand how PD got there, because she's only fourteen and can't drive yet. I told her I didn't know, but at least she got her clothes on so that was something to be thankful for.
Unlike yesterday when we walked in on her practically in her birthday suit. Not a picture I want to remember.
I'm beginning to really roll with this fantasy stuff. I'm thinking I might actually be able to handle this long term. After all, it's been TWO WHOLE DAYS. I've set a new record.
Only time will tell.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Shades of Gray
Wow.
What amazing friends I have.
If you haven't had the chance to read the comments from the last post, please take the time to do so. There is so much wisdom in those words, so much comfort, that anyone going through this type of situation needs to hear.
And I was the one who needed to hear it most.
I have the habit of always wanting to "fix" things. Whether that be relationships between friends, helping someone in need, or even healing Mom of dementia by using the power of reasoning, I try to fix it all. And it's exhausting.
And as my good friend Kitti once said to me, "God only sent one Savior, Chris, and it ain't you."
But that didn't stop me in Mom's case.
However, after reading what was written in the comments this morning I decided to immediately apply the concept of giving Mom the "gift" of living in her fantasy with her. For someone who is stuck in realism there was the thought that it might just be a really rough thing to do. There is no "fixing" a fantasy world. There is no black or white here.
It's all different shades of gray.
The Boy came with me, albeit unwillingly, to visit his grandmother. After the fiasco of the "party" the day before he was none too keen on seeing her again. To his credit, he didn't complain.
We stopped at Subway to pick up sandwiches, then arrived at the rehab center. When we entered her room two things were immediately evident. 1) Her roommate had requested and received a transfer to a different room, and 2) Mom was undressed from the waist down, covered only by a sheet. She'd also managed to unbutton her blouse and uncover herself, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Thankfully, I was the first to enter the room. After quickly assessing the situation, and before he could see anything, I asked The Boy to wait outside while I called an aide to help get her dressed.
It seems the digestive tract problem she'd had while in the hospital Tuesday for her transfusion has continued on a daily basis, and they believe she may have a bacterial infection. Because of that they left her to "air" since her bottom is so sore from all the bowel movements. Which would be fine if she didn't suffer from dementia and take it upon herself to remove the sheet covering her along with the rest of her clothing, leaving her "parts" out waving in the breeze.
So.
We got her dressed and to the dining room, where she managed to eat half of the sandwich we brought. During that time she mentioned that my two cousins, one of whom lives in Alabama and one of whom lives in Texarkana, had both been cooking all the meals at the rehab center all week. She couldn't understand why they hadn't spoken to her yet.
I explained they were probably too busy working, or maybe they didn't know she was there. She didn't understand how they could work there all week and not know she was there, but she did understand the busy part, and we went on to other things.
Score.
Next she spoke about the ex-NASCAR driver who drove her to the hospital for the transfusion on Tuesday. She said she felt so sorry for poor Cutie, my granddaughter, because both she and Cutie had gotten carsick all over themselves on the way there. I agreed it was a terrible thing to have happen, and promised her she'd never have that driver again. I asked her if Cutie was sitting next to her on the drive to the hospital. Mom replied that Cutie had her own little wheelchair right next to her all the way there. She couldn't understand why Cutie had to go through that blood transfusion or why she had diarrhea like she did the entire time she was there. I told her it was a terrible thing to have to go through, and I hoped it never happened again.
Of course, Cutie is two years old, perfectly healthy, and was at home with her mom and dad the entire time this was taking place. But it was so much easier, so much more peaceful, to just go along as if Mom knew what she was talking about. Not lying to her, not agreeing that she was right, but not correcting her either. Just using that shade of gray.
The stress just disappeared.
Even The Boy noticed it. He said the difference was like night and day.
Mom even threw a few barbs, and we just laughed them off. LAUGHED THEM OFF. What was impossible yesterday is suddenly possible.
Thank You, God, for friends with wisdom. Thank You for peace in the midst of the storm.
And thank You for shades of gray.
What amazing friends I have.
If you haven't had the chance to read the comments from the last post, please take the time to do so. There is so much wisdom in those words, so much comfort, that anyone going through this type of situation needs to hear.
And I was the one who needed to hear it most.
I have the habit of always wanting to "fix" things. Whether that be relationships between friends, helping someone in need, or even healing Mom of dementia by using the power of reasoning, I try to fix it all. And it's exhausting.
And as my good friend Kitti once said to me, "God only sent one Savior, Chris, and it ain't you."
But that didn't stop me in Mom's case.
However, after reading what was written in the comments this morning I decided to immediately apply the concept of giving Mom the "gift" of living in her fantasy with her. For someone who is stuck in realism there was the thought that it might just be a really rough thing to do. There is no "fixing" a fantasy world. There is no black or white here.
It's all different shades of gray.
The Boy came with me, albeit unwillingly, to visit his grandmother. After the fiasco of the "party" the day before he was none too keen on seeing her again. To his credit, he didn't complain.
We stopped at Subway to pick up sandwiches, then arrived at the rehab center. When we entered her room two things were immediately evident. 1) Her roommate had requested and received a transfer to a different room, and 2) Mom was undressed from the waist down, covered only by a sheet. She'd also managed to unbutton her blouse and uncover herself, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Thankfully, I was the first to enter the room. After quickly assessing the situation, and before he could see anything, I asked The Boy to wait outside while I called an aide to help get her dressed.
It seems the digestive tract problem she'd had while in the hospital Tuesday for her transfusion has continued on a daily basis, and they believe she may have a bacterial infection. Because of that they left her to "air" since her bottom is so sore from all the bowel movements. Which would be fine if she didn't suffer from dementia and take it upon herself to remove the sheet covering her along with the rest of her clothing, leaving her "parts" out waving in the breeze.
So.
We got her dressed and to the dining room, where she managed to eat half of the sandwich we brought. During that time she mentioned that my two cousins, one of whom lives in Alabama and one of whom lives in Texarkana, had both been cooking all the meals at the rehab center all week. She couldn't understand why they hadn't spoken to her yet.
I explained they were probably too busy working, or maybe they didn't know she was there. She didn't understand how they could work there all week and not know she was there, but she did understand the busy part, and we went on to other things.
Score.
Next she spoke about the ex-NASCAR driver who drove her to the hospital for the transfusion on Tuesday. She said she felt so sorry for poor Cutie, my granddaughter, because both she and Cutie had gotten carsick all over themselves on the way there. I agreed it was a terrible thing to have happen, and promised her she'd never have that driver again. I asked her if Cutie was sitting next to her on the drive to the hospital. Mom replied that Cutie had her own little wheelchair right next to her all the way there. She couldn't understand why Cutie had to go through that blood transfusion or why she had diarrhea like she did the entire time she was there. I told her it was a terrible thing to have to go through, and I hoped it never happened again.
Of course, Cutie is two years old, perfectly healthy, and was at home with her mom and dad the entire time this was taking place. But it was so much easier, so much more peaceful, to just go along as if Mom knew what she was talking about. Not lying to her, not agreeing that she was right, but not correcting her either. Just using that shade of gray.
The stress just disappeared.
Even The Boy noticed it. He said the difference was like night and day.
Mom even threw a few barbs, and we just laughed them off. LAUGHED THEM OFF. What was impossible yesterday is suddenly possible.
Thank You, God, for friends with wisdom. Thank You for peace in the midst of the storm.
And thank You for shades of gray.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Mom Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde
It was not a pleasant day at the rehab center.
Mom's dementia seems to be getting worse. The nurses have noticed it, and so have Sis and I. Last night she kept her roommate up most of the night because she was talking to photos she saw of her grandchildren that had appeared on the ceiling. Today one of the nurses saw her holding a conversation with a chair. And along with the worsening dementia has come a somewhat hateful attitude toward others, including those who care about her most.
Today we had the much-talked-about barbeque luncheon to celebrate Mom's birthday as well as my nephew's birthday. Both were last week.
For some reason Mom has gotten it into her head that Nephew works as a physical therapist at the rehab center. This could be because there is a tall, young, hairy man that works there as a physical therapist that slightly resembles Nephew. But no matter how many times you tell Mom that it isn't Nephew, she will not listen. She argues that it is, and that is that. Today at lunch Nephew had to tell her again that he did not work at the rehab center. She called him a liar and told him he'd hurt her feelings.
Not good.
Then there's The Boy. There was another boy visiting his grandmother at the rehab center that Mom mistook for The Boy. She became very upset when the other boy told her she wasn't his grandmother and that his grandmother was sitting at the next table. She felt as though she'd been disowned by The Boy. That was also brought up by her at lunch today. The Boy was also called a liar when he denied he'd ever said anything like that to her.
Again, not good.
Then she started in on me. I tattled on her to the nurses. I wouldn't let her do this or that. I told her she wasn't trying hard enough.
Finally, when all of us were afraid to talk for fear we'd be the next target, I'd had enough. When she started in again on someone I told her to stop. Just stop. By that time the "party" had been ruined for everyone anyway. We all finished eating, and I took her back upstairs to her room while everyone else cleared up.
While we were alone I tried to talk to her. I told her how much damage she was doing to her relationships with the grandchildren and everyone else by calling them liars and saying such awful things about them. I explained to her once again that her brain is damaged and that it has to heal, and during the healing process she is thinking things that aren't true.
For a while she's penitent. For a while she says she would never hurt any of her family knowingly. For a while she's OK. But only for a while. Then the mean part takes over again.
My fear is that I will eventually not want to go back to see her if she keeps this up - or even gets worse. My fear is that I'll find excuses to keep from going...to keep from hearing the venom she's putting out. For now I'll try to change the subject - get her to give me the recipe for a cherry pie, or tell me how she grows tomatoes - instead of letting her go on this way. I'll try to remember that this is not the real Mom, but the sick one.
And I'll keep on loving her, no matter what.
Mom's dementia seems to be getting worse. The nurses have noticed it, and so have Sis and I. Last night she kept her roommate up most of the night because she was talking to photos she saw of her grandchildren that had appeared on the ceiling. Today one of the nurses saw her holding a conversation with a chair. And along with the worsening dementia has come a somewhat hateful attitude toward others, including those who care about her most.
Today we had the much-talked-about barbeque luncheon to celebrate Mom's birthday as well as my nephew's birthday. Both were last week.
For some reason Mom has gotten it into her head that Nephew works as a physical therapist at the rehab center. This could be because there is a tall, young, hairy man that works there as a physical therapist that slightly resembles Nephew. But no matter how many times you tell Mom that it isn't Nephew, she will not listen. She argues that it is, and that is that. Today at lunch Nephew had to tell her again that he did not work at the rehab center. She called him a liar and told him he'd hurt her feelings.
Not good.
Then there's The Boy. There was another boy visiting his grandmother at the rehab center that Mom mistook for The Boy. She became very upset when the other boy told her she wasn't his grandmother and that his grandmother was sitting at the next table. She felt as though she'd been disowned by The Boy. That was also brought up by her at lunch today. The Boy was also called a liar when he denied he'd ever said anything like that to her.
Again, not good.
Then she started in on me. I tattled on her to the nurses. I wouldn't let her do this or that. I told her she wasn't trying hard enough.
Finally, when all of us were afraid to talk for fear we'd be the next target, I'd had enough. When she started in again on someone I told her to stop. Just stop. By that time the "party" had been ruined for everyone anyway. We all finished eating, and I took her back upstairs to her room while everyone else cleared up.
While we were alone I tried to talk to her. I told her how much damage she was doing to her relationships with the grandchildren and everyone else by calling them liars and saying such awful things about them. I explained to her once again that her brain is damaged and that it has to heal, and during the healing process she is thinking things that aren't true.
For a while she's penitent. For a while she says she would never hurt any of her family knowingly. For a while she's OK. But only for a while. Then the mean part takes over again.
My fear is that I will eventually not want to go back to see her if she keeps this up - or even gets worse. My fear is that I'll find excuses to keep from going...to keep from hearing the venom she's putting out. For now I'll try to change the subject - get her to give me the recipe for a cherry pie, or tell me how she grows tomatoes - instead of letting her go on this way. I'll try to remember that this is not the real Mom, but the sick one.
And I'll keep on loving her, no matter what.
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