It was not a good day or evening at the hospital.
Sis was with Mom most of the day while I was at work. Mom, however, was still in the mostly-asleep-only-sometimes-awake mode she's been in the past couple of days. She's not talking in her sleep as much, but she is still very, very confused.
I walked in tonight to take over from Sis and told Mom I loved her as I bent to give her a kiss. She grabbed my hand and in a very plain voice, said, "I love you, too, Laura."
It hit me off-guard, that one did. Somehow I always thought she'd know ME, her firstborn. ME, the one she could always count on for help. ME, the one who would fight her battles with utility companies and slay her dragons. After all, it was ME.
Not Laura. I don't even know who Laura is. Neither does she.
And then she turned to Sis. I asked her who Sis was, and she answered the same way, "Laura." Apparently Sis and I are now twins in that we're both named Laura.
Sis went home after we spoke about doctors and such, and promised to come back up later so I could get home at a reasonable hour. After she left, the neurologist came in. I explained to him that Mom was asleep much of the time still, and her confusion seemed to be worse than it ever had. I told him about her talking in her sleep, the random thoughts out of nowhere, the fact that she didn't recognize me or Sis earlier. He said it was very unusual for the anti-seizure medication to cause those symptoms this far out from the seizure, and he suspected there might have been another stroke.
Just what we needed to hear.
He ordered an MRI, but it hadn't been done as of the time I left. If it is another stroke, plans for her recovery will change. As of today she failed another swallow test as well as a video swallow test, so we know that there will be long-term consequences from that. Whether she will have to have a feeding tube inserted or whether she will be able to learn to swallow again is up in the air. With her mental status as it is now, learning to swallow again is unlikely.
In the meantime, the hunt for nursing homes is on again. I made another visit to the one I was at first impressed with over the weekend, and found it to be lacking in a big way. Another I will look at is full and has a waiting list. The one attached to the rehab center will likely be where she goes following this hospital stay, as we don't think she'll qualify for rehab anymore.
My mother, the person I knew and loved before the stroke, would rather die than be the person she is today. My mother, the person I know and love today, still wants to live.
How do I reconcile the two?
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Back To The ER, Back To The ER, Back To The ER Again
Yesterday I received a call at 6:30 a.m. It was the rehab center.
Mom had suffered a seizure while they were getting her dressed for breakfast. They'd called an ambulance and were taking her to the hospital. I called Sis, got dressed and headed to the ER.
It's become a too familiar place for us to be.
Half an hour later the ambulance showed up. We met it, assured Mom we were there and that we loved her, and left the experts to their work.
But things were different this time.
It took a much longer time than usual for anyone to let us know what was going on, and when they did they told us the doctor would meet us in the waiting room. That's never happened before. We've always met the doctor back in the ER after the initial look-over. We were worried.
Eventually the doctor came out and spoke with us. It seemed Mom had suffered another seizure when she arrived at the ER, and they were getting her stabilized. It would be a few more minutes before we were allowed back.
When we were finally allowed to see her, she had been given anti-seizure drugs and was completely out of it. She remained that way for the rest of the day, except for telling us she hurt in various places. Her legs kept cramping up, and her back hurt most of the day. The doctor prescribed morphine for her pain and we let her sleep.
Today she was more awake. They found her potassium was extremely low, so she was started on that. They ran tests, including an EEG and a swallow test. She failed the swallow test miserably, choking on applesauce. She is not allowed to have anything by mouth until she is more alert and can be tested again, hopefully with better results.
In the meantime, her blood pressure is very high, tonight reading at 174/104. Scary numbers. She's doing a lot of talking in her sleep about strange things. I don't know if the drugs are causing it or if it's something else, but I really don't know anyone named Cassandra and I haven't been invited to her coming-out party, so I don't believe I have to buy her a gift even if Mom thinks so. And I think we can wait to buy the Easter baskets until closer to Easter.
So we're back at the hospital for an undetermined length of stay.
Last night was another Every So Often Bawl, and I don't mean we danced. Sis and I are getting to the point where a breakdown is almost a certainty, whether it's one like I had last night or one of the nervous breakdown variety. Mom is so precious to us, yet we hate to see this happen to her day after day, time after time.
We want Mom to be free of all this pain, all this seemingly unnecessary suffering she's going through. But God knows better than we do what is best, so we'll trust His judgement and keep on keeping on.
Mom had suffered a seizure while they were getting her dressed for breakfast. They'd called an ambulance and were taking her to the hospital. I called Sis, got dressed and headed to the ER.
It's become a too familiar place for us to be.
Half an hour later the ambulance showed up. We met it, assured Mom we were there and that we loved her, and left the experts to their work.
But things were different this time.
It took a much longer time than usual for anyone to let us know what was going on, and when they did they told us the doctor would meet us in the waiting room. That's never happened before. We've always met the doctor back in the ER after the initial look-over. We were worried.
Eventually the doctor came out and spoke with us. It seemed Mom had suffered another seizure when she arrived at the ER, and they were getting her stabilized. It would be a few more minutes before we were allowed back.
When we were finally allowed to see her, she had been given anti-seizure drugs and was completely out of it. She remained that way for the rest of the day, except for telling us she hurt in various places. Her legs kept cramping up, and her back hurt most of the day. The doctor prescribed morphine for her pain and we let her sleep.
Today she was more awake. They found her potassium was extremely low, so she was started on that. They ran tests, including an EEG and a swallow test. She failed the swallow test miserably, choking on applesauce. She is not allowed to have anything by mouth until she is more alert and can be tested again, hopefully with better results.
In the meantime, her blood pressure is very high, tonight reading at 174/104. Scary numbers. She's doing a lot of talking in her sleep about strange things. I don't know if the drugs are causing it or if it's something else, but I really don't know anyone named Cassandra and I haven't been invited to her coming-out party, so I don't believe I have to buy her a gift even if Mom thinks so. And I think we can wait to buy the Easter baskets until closer to Easter.
So we're back at the hospital for an undetermined length of stay.
Last night was another Every So Often Bawl, and I don't mean we danced. Sis and I are getting to the point where a breakdown is almost a certainty, whether it's one like I had last night or one of the nervous breakdown variety. Mom is so precious to us, yet we hate to see this happen to her day after day, time after time.
We want Mom to be free of all this pain, all this seemingly unnecessary suffering she's going through. But God knows better than we do what is best, so we'll trust His judgement and keep on keeping on.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Room 413 And Lionel, Who Isn't A Train
Mom is back at the rehab center, safely ensconced in room 413. Room 413 is old hat to us. It's a private room they use for patients with communicable disease. In Mom's case, C Diff.
They've hired a new aide in our absence, one we know will do a wonderful job. His name is Lionel, and he's the epitome of what you want an aide to be. He is polite, courteous and gentle, yet strong enough to handle Mom's weakness. He took care of her last night, her first night back.
When I arrived at the rehab center after work today I was greeted as I am almost every day nowadays by Mom. Not with "Hi! I'm so glad you're here!" or "Where've you been? I've been waiting for you all day!" but with "My butt hurts." And not once, but at least fifteen times before I suggested we go back to her room and put her to bed. It seemed to be all she could focus on.
So we had a talk. Because Sis and I have become extremely weary of the dead horse Mom beats over and over and over again.
I reminded her of all the migraines she used to have and how she never let out a peep. About the horrible cramps she had every month that she never complained about. And I told her she needed to come up with some of that strength now, to try to stop telling us so much about her bottom woes. I told her there was nothing on earth we could do to make it better for her, and hearing her constant moaning and repeating of how much her behind hurt was hurting us since we were so helpless to help her. I reminded her that when the aide came in to get her ready for bed he had cleaned her up and she hadn't complained at all, so I knew she could do it.
The nurses have told us that when we aren't there she does just fine. But let us show up, and the floodgates of complaining open and open wide. It's kind of like a little child playing one parent against the other in a way. Except in this case, Sis and I are up to here (lifting hand above head) with it.
Lionel caught on right away. Mom tried the complaining with him, but got nowhere. He asked her if all the complaining made her feel any better. She told him no, it didn't. So he asked her why she was still doing it.
He said she quit right after that.
God bless Lionel. He can run on my track any time.
They've hired a new aide in our absence, one we know will do a wonderful job. His name is Lionel, and he's the epitome of what you want an aide to be. He is polite, courteous and gentle, yet strong enough to handle Mom's weakness. He took care of her last night, her first night back.
When I arrived at the rehab center after work today I was greeted as I am almost every day nowadays by Mom. Not with "Hi! I'm so glad you're here!" or "Where've you been? I've been waiting for you all day!" but with "My butt hurts." And not once, but at least fifteen times before I suggested we go back to her room and put her to bed. It seemed to be all she could focus on.
So we had a talk. Because Sis and I have become extremely weary of the dead horse Mom beats over and over and over again.
I reminded her of all the migraines she used to have and how she never let out a peep. About the horrible cramps she had every month that she never complained about. And I told her she needed to come up with some of that strength now, to try to stop telling us so much about her bottom woes. I told her there was nothing on earth we could do to make it better for her, and hearing her constant moaning and repeating of how much her behind hurt was hurting us since we were so helpless to help her. I reminded her that when the aide came in to get her ready for bed he had cleaned her up and she hadn't complained at all, so I knew she could do it.
The nurses have told us that when we aren't there she does just fine. But let us show up, and the floodgates of complaining open and open wide. It's kind of like a little child playing one parent against the other in a way. Except in this case, Sis and I are up to here (lifting hand above head) with it.
Lionel caught on right away. Mom tried the complaining with him, but got nowhere. He asked her if all the complaining made her feel any better. She told him no, it didn't. So he asked her why she was still doing it.
He said she quit right after that.
God bless Lionel. He can run on my track any time.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Counting Chickens Is Not Such A Good Idea
Mom was NOT released from the hospital today. Instead, she was given two more pints of blood.
It seems as though her hemoglobin dropped to 8.5. The same hemoglobin that supposedly was remaining stable at over 10. Which meant that even though all the blood thinners had been stopped, she was still bleeding internally.
Sis and I determined we were going to have to talk her into having the colonoscopy. The previous test they'd done showed the bleeding was coming from somewhere below her ribcage. She was refusing the colonoscopy due to the prep and all of the cleanup her already raw bottom would have to take. Then a helpful nurse suggested something called a rectal tube.
Supposedly this tube could be inserted to catch the output and save Mom from the cleanup problems. While it might be a bit uncomfortable, it would keep her skin from further damage, and that's what she worried most about.
I reasoned with her. I explained we didn't want to have to keep taking her back to the hospital and exposing her to C Diff every other week if we didn't have to. I wheedled a little. I bargained. I cajoled. And I almost had her talked into it. Almost. She wanted Sis to weigh in on it tomorrow morning before she made her final decision.
And then.
On the way home I called Sis to report the evening's happenings. I told her we were almost a shoe-in for the colonoscopy. And she told me something as well.
Mom's hemoglobin had gone up .6 points before they ever started the first pint of blood. Which meant she had stopped bleeding. Which meant all my cajoling was in vain.
While I was perturbed to have spent all that time talking Mom into something that wasn't going to happen, I couldn't have been happier. To think she might actually be free of the internal bleeding for the first time since the stroke is somewhat unbelievable. So unbelievable in fact, that I think I'll have to reserve judgment on that for a few weeks.
I'm from Missouri. So show me.
Mom was depressed and upset today. She's had it with all this and just wants to go home. I don't blame her one bit, and I truly wish she could do just that. Unfortunately, that may never happen again. She can't afford the round-the-clock care it would take, and neither can we.
In a perfect world, we'd buy a different house with a walk-out apartment on the lower level where Mom could feel like she had some independence. We'd have someone in while we were at work to keep her company and meet her needs, maybe even someone to live with her permanently in her little apartment. She could decorate it the way she wanted, have friends over, and do all the things she'd do in her own home, but with help just a few steps away.
But those are just dreams.
We're not counting those chickens now. Or probably ever.
It seems as though her hemoglobin dropped to 8.5. The same hemoglobin that supposedly was remaining stable at over 10. Which meant that even though all the blood thinners had been stopped, she was still bleeding internally.
Sis and I determined we were going to have to talk her into having the colonoscopy. The previous test they'd done showed the bleeding was coming from somewhere below her ribcage. She was refusing the colonoscopy due to the prep and all of the cleanup her already raw bottom would have to take. Then a helpful nurse suggested something called a rectal tube.
Supposedly this tube could be inserted to catch the output and save Mom from the cleanup problems. While it might be a bit uncomfortable, it would keep her skin from further damage, and that's what she worried most about.
I reasoned with her. I explained we didn't want to have to keep taking her back to the hospital and exposing her to C Diff every other week if we didn't have to. I wheedled a little. I bargained. I cajoled. And I almost had her talked into it. Almost. She wanted Sis to weigh in on it tomorrow morning before she made her final decision.
And then.
On the way home I called Sis to report the evening's happenings. I told her we were almost a shoe-in for the colonoscopy. And she told me something as well.
Mom's hemoglobin had gone up .6 points before they ever started the first pint of blood. Which meant she had stopped bleeding. Which meant all my cajoling was in vain.
While I was perturbed to have spent all that time talking Mom into something that wasn't going to happen, I couldn't have been happier. To think she might actually be free of the internal bleeding for the first time since the stroke is somewhat unbelievable. So unbelievable in fact, that I think I'll have to reserve judgment on that for a few weeks.
I'm from Missouri. So show me.
Mom was depressed and upset today. She's had it with all this and just wants to go home. I don't blame her one bit, and I truly wish she could do just that. Unfortunately, that may never happen again. She can't afford the round-the-clock care it would take, and neither can we.
In a perfect world, we'd buy a different house with a walk-out apartment on the lower level where Mom could feel like she had some independence. We'd have someone in while we were at work to keep her company and meet her needs, maybe even someone to live with her permanently in her little apartment. She could decorate it the way she wanted, have friends over, and do all the things she'd do in her own home, but with help just a few steps away.
But those are just dreams.
We're not counting those chickens now. Or probably ever.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
So Long, Farewell
Mom is leaving the hospital tomorrow.
She is permanently off of the Plavix. The cardiologist and Doc have been talking, and both have decided that one aspirin a day is all she needs to keep her blood thin enough to guard against heart attack or stroke. Her hemoglobin has stayed above ten since the Plavix has been gone, so we know that was the culprit in the case of the internal bleeding. We're hoping the aspirin doesn't have to go as well.
The C Diff is another story.
It's evil.
Mom is a pooping machine, and that machine seems to be able to put out veritable mountains of product. And each and every of the many times a day it happens it's as if her bottom is being burned by acid - which it is, in a way. Until this clears up she will have to suffer through many, many times of being cleaned up, and each of those times is agony for her.
On a lighter note, she has discovered the wonders of morphine. After particularly grueling sessions of being cleaned up in the hospital she has asked for and gotten her pain relieved. Since she has a PICC line rather than a traditional IV, the nurses can push the morphine in fast without worrying if it hurts her or not. Mom loves the fact that it works right away and that it lets her sleep for a couple of hours.
My mother, the junkie. :>)
Seriously, if it makes her feel better I'm all for it. She's suffered enough for a lifetime these past months.
Sis and I talked today about her return to rehab and after. During this last stay we've had to face some hard facts. One is that Mom is never going to be able to live in assisted living. That was the hardest decision for me. I wanted so much more for her than living out her life in a nursing home. However, with her mental and physical limitations there is no way she would qualify to live in any assisted living center. Doc confirmed that today to Sis.
Today is the first time I've been able to say that out loud and accept it.
Another thing we discussed is the closing down of her house. It took me a while to get to the point where I was ready to clean out the freezer and the kitchen cabinets, but I'm there. Now that I'm there I'm ready to begin to tackle the rest of the house as well. Not closing it altogether, but deciding the price things should sell for, then purchasing what we want from the house before we sell the rest. Of course, the family heirlooms will be divided between us.
But we both aren't there yet. Sis is the one that's OK with cleaning out the cabinets and freezer, but she's not able to go further yet. And truth be told, when we get into the actual sorting through things I may not be there as much as I think I am now.
It's hard to let go of a lifetime of concrete objects and have them become mere memories. It's hard to let go of what was and embrace what is. It's such a cruel, painful thing to have to let go of not only the places and things you loved, but the person you knew and loved who made it all what it was.
It's just hard.
She is permanently off of the Plavix. The cardiologist and Doc have been talking, and both have decided that one aspirin a day is all she needs to keep her blood thin enough to guard against heart attack or stroke. Her hemoglobin has stayed above ten since the Plavix has been gone, so we know that was the culprit in the case of the internal bleeding. We're hoping the aspirin doesn't have to go as well.
The C Diff is another story.
It's evil.
Mom is a pooping machine, and that machine seems to be able to put out veritable mountains of product. And each and every of the many times a day it happens it's as if her bottom is being burned by acid - which it is, in a way. Until this clears up she will have to suffer through many, many times of being cleaned up, and each of those times is agony for her.
On a lighter note, she has discovered the wonders of morphine. After particularly grueling sessions of being cleaned up in the hospital she has asked for and gotten her pain relieved. Since she has a PICC line rather than a traditional IV, the nurses can push the morphine in fast without worrying if it hurts her or not. Mom loves the fact that it works right away and that it lets her sleep for a couple of hours.
My mother, the junkie. :>)
Seriously, if it makes her feel better I'm all for it. She's suffered enough for a lifetime these past months.
Sis and I talked today about her return to rehab and after. During this last stay we've had to face some hard facts. One is that Mom is never going to be able to live in assisted living. That was the hardest decision for me. I wanted so much more for her than living out her life in a nursing home. However, with her mental and physical limitations there is no way she would qualify to live in any assisted living center. Doc confirmed that today to Sis.
Today is the first time I've been able to say that out loud and accept it.
Another thing we discussed is the closing down of her house. It took me a while to get to the point where I was ready to clean out the freezer and the kitchen cabinets, but I'm there. Now that I'm there I'm ready to begin to tackle the rest of the house as well. Not closing it altogether, but deciding the price things should sell for, then purchasing what we want from the house before we sell the rest. Of course, the family heirlooms will be divided between us.
But we both aren't there yet. Sis is the one that's OK with cleaning out the cabinets and freezer, but she's not able to go further yet. And truth be told, when we get into the actual sorting through things I may not be there as much as I think I am now.
It's hard to let go of a lifetime of concrete objects and have them become mere memories. It's hard to let go of what was and embrace what is. It's such a cruel, painful thing to have to let go of not only the places and things you loved, but the person you knew and loved who made it all what it was.
It's just hard.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Not Today, But Maybe Tomorrow...Or Not
Mom is still in the hospital.
Doc did not call today. I overslept and called the hospital to find this out.
BAD DOC. SHAME ON YOU.
She has been removed from the Plavix, but still seems to be bleeding internally. What they know from yesterday's test is that it's somewhere from the ribcage down. The GI doc wants to do another colonoscopy, but we've been down this road before. Once she's taken off of the blood thinners, the bleeding stops and they can never find anything. And if they do find something and start her back on the Plavix again, who's to say it won't break through in some other place and have her back in the same situation all over again?
Frustration runs high.
In the end it's Mom's decision. She's pooping like a banshee on Ex-Lax overdose now due to the C Diff, so the only difference would be the cramping that goes along with the laxative and the inability to eat. However, she doesn't want to eat anything anyway because she doesn't want to poop.
Again, it's her call.
We'll be there to support her either way.
Doc did not call today. I overslept and called the hospital to find this out.
BAD DOC. SHAME ON YOU.
She has been removed from the Plavix, but still seems to be bleeding internally. What they know from yesterday's test is that it's somewhere from the ribcage down. The GI doc wants to do another colonoscopy, but we've been down this road before. Once she's taken off of the blood thinners, the bleeding stops and they can never find anything. And if they do find something and start her back on the Plavix again, who's to say it won't break through in some other place and have her back in the same situation all over again?
Frustration runs high.
In the end it's Mom's decision. She's pooping like a banshee on Ex-Lax overdose now due to the C Diff, so the only difference would be the cramping that goes along with the laxative and the inability to eat. However, she doesn't want to eat anything anyway because she doesn't want to poop.
Again, it's her call.
We'll be there to support her either way.
Friday, September 19, 2008
I Have Some Good News, And Some Bad News
Mom has C Diff again.
I'm thinking I hear a collective groan from the readership as I write this. Kind of like the groan we let out when we found out today that the test was positive. Blood in her stool and C Diff.
Same song, 1,345th verse.
Her heart rate has decreased since the transfusion, which is a good thing. They were also able to start her on Flagyl immediately for the C Diff rather than waiting a couple of weeks like they did last time. Another good thing. They did a test today with radioactive dye to try to tell where she was bleeding out, but we don't have the results of it back yet. Her congestion sounds better and the perturbing stories were gone. Again, good.
I spoke with Doc today and let him know that Sis and I would like her taken off of even the Plavix. If blood thinners are going to cause her to be going back and forth to the hospital every few days with GI bleeding, they aren't worth it. The quality of life Mom has now is almost none due to her constant hospitalizations. If we take her off of all blood thinners we risk her having a massive heart attack, yes, but at least she has a chance of LIVING the life she has left instead of living through it.
Amazingly, Doc seemed to see where we were coming from on this one. He'll see Mom in the morning again to see how her bleeding is, and then he promised to give me a call at home to let me in on the game plan. I may have to be awake at dawn thirty, but I don't have to get up and be dressed to talk.
And that's a good thing, too.
I'm thinking I hear a collective groan from the readership as I write this. Kind of like the groan we let out when we found out today that the test was positive. Blood in her stool and C Diff.
Same song, 1,345th verse.
Her heart rate has decreased since the transfusion, which is a good thing. They were also able to start her on Flagyl immediately for the C Diff rather than waiting a couple of weeks like they did last time. Another good thing. They did a test today with radioactive dye to try to tell where she was bleeding out, but we don't have the results of it back yet. Her congestion sounds better and the perturbing stories were gone. Again, good.
I spoke with Doc today and let him know that Sis and I would like her taken off of even the Plavix. If blood thinners are going to cause her to be going back and forth to the hospital every few days with GI bleeding, they aren't worth it. The quality of life Mom has now is almost none due to her constant hospitalizations. If we take her off of all blood thinners we risk her having a massive heart attack, yes, but at least she has a chance of LIVING the life she has left instead of living through it.
Amazingly, Doc seemed to see where we were coming from on this one. He'll see Mom in the morning again to see how her bleeding is, and then he promised to give me a call at home to let me in on the game plan. I may have to be awake at dawn thirty, but I don't have to get up and be dressed to talk.
And that's a good thing, too.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
There Are Good Days, And Then There Was Today
Mom is bleeding internally again.
We know this because she's putting out black stool every hour and because her hemoglobin has dropped to 8. She's getting two more pints of blood by transfusion tonight.
She's also been coughing up some stuff, but the chest x-ray is clear as of tonight. However, her heart is another story. It's enlarged and beating anywhere from 110 to 120 times per minute. Way faster than it should be beating. Her blood pressure is within acceptable range, 110/60, but she's running a slight fever of 101.
Add to that the fact that she's talking completely out of her head, and you've got us worried.
She's come up with several different stories in her mind today, none of which are pleasant, and all of which she believed were true. The lower her hemoglobin goes and the more her behind hurts, the worse her mind gets. She should be better after the transfusion tomorrow, but she had a pretty miserable day and evening tonight. It tired Sis out this afternoon, and it wore me slick when I took over the evening shift. Around 9:30 p.m. Mom got so riled up and agitated that the nurse on duty finally gave her some morphine to calm her down and help her with the pain from her behind since she wasn't due for more pain pills for another thirty minutes.
I rose up right there and called her blessed.
And then I went home to see what my house and family look like.
We know this because she's putting out black stool every hour and because her hemoglobin has dropped to 8. She's getting two more pints of blood by transfusion tonight.
She's also been coughing up some stuff, but the chest x-ray is clear as of tonight. However, her heart is another story. It's enlarged and beating anywhere from 110 to 120 times per minute. Way faster than it should be beating. Her blood pressure is within acceptable range, 110/60, but she's running a slight fever of 101.
Add to that the fact that she's talking completely out of her head, and you've got us worried.
She's come up with several different stories in her mind today, none of which are pleasant, and all of which she believed were true. The lower her hemoglobin goes and the more her behind hurts, the worse her mind gets. She should be better after the transfusion tomorrow, but she had a pretty miserable day and evening tonight. It tired Sis out this afternoon, and it wore me slick when I took over the evening shift. Around 9:30 p.m. Mom got so riled up and agitated that the nurse on duty finally gave her some morphine to calm her down and help her with the pain from her behind since she wasn't due for more pain pills for another thirty minutes.
I rose up right there and called her blessed.
And then I went home to see what my house and family look like.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
A Room With A View Instead Of ICU
Room 617.
Ah, the 6th floor. It's become our home away from home at the hospital. Only this time instead of being in room 604 or 605, we've switched hallways and graduated to room 617.
To let you know how often we've been on the 6th floor in the past three months, I can tell you that they finally have new chairs in the rooms for friends and family. These chairs are actually COMFORTABLE to sit in, unlike the plastic-ish let-me-torture-your-backside chairs that were there before. A person might actually enjoy sitting in these chairs.
And I knew they were new. Imagine that.
Mom's low blood pressure is again a concern, which is why they have her on the telemetry unit. She keeps saying her heart is wearing out, but it keeps on beating as far as we can tell. The incision site looks good. No oozing of any kind, and they've taken all bandages off of it now. The swelling is much, much less than before, although it's still very noticeable. Her voice is still really scratchy and deep from the vent tube, but that should improve in the next few days.
I spoke with the surgeon's nurse-practitioner today. She was the one who released Mom to the regular room. I asked how long the increased stroke symptoms could last, and she told me it could be as long as 6-8 weeks. She said she hoped there would be some improvement in the next couple of weeks, but she couldn't promise anything, especially given the rough time Mom had with the surgery.
Mom has been insisting she is making dinner for the family. She's having steak soup and homemade bread, and she's been making the soup all day today. She also baked the bread, and had Sis call me from the hospital to be sure I took it out of the oven before it burned. She wanted to hurry and finish her dinner tonight because she had to go to Panera to pick up a bread bowl for my nephew, who is a vegetarian and who will have cheese soup instead.
It's amazing what you can accomplish from a hospital bed when you put your mind to it. And what's even more amazing is that even in the state she's in right now, the uppermost thought in her mind is how she can serve her family. Not her garden, not a television show, not the house or anything else. She wants to do for those people she loves the most.
That's my Mom.
And I love her.
Ah, the 6th floor. It's become our home away from home at the hospital. Only this time instead of being in room 604 or 605, we've switched hallways and graduated to room 617.
To let you know how often we've been on the 6th floor in the past three months, I can tell you that they finally have new chairs in the rooms for friends and family. These chairs are actually COMFORTABLE to sit in, unlike the plastic-ish let-me-torture-your-backside chairs that were there before. A person might actually enjoy sitting in these chairs.
And I knew they were new. Imagine that.
Mom's low blood pressure is again a concern, which is why they have her on the telemetry unit. She keeps saying her heart is wearing out, but it keeps on beating as far as we can tell. The incision site looks good. No oozing of any kind, and they've taken all bandages off of it now. The swelling is much, much less than before, although it's still very noticeable. Her voice is still really scratchy and deep from the vent tube, but that should improve in the next few days.
I spoke with the surgeon's nurse-practitioner today. She was the one who released Mom to the regular room. I asked how long the increased stroke symptoms could last, and she told me it could be as long as 6-8 weeks. She said she hoped there would be some improvement in the next couple of weeks, but she couldn't promise anything, especially given the rough time Mom had with the surgery.
Mom has been insisting she is making dinner for the family. She's having steak soup and homemade bread, and she's been making the soup all day today. She also baked the bread, and had Sis call me from the hospital to be sure I took it out of the oven before it burned. She wanted to hurry and finish her dinner tonight because she had to go to Panera to pick up a bread bowl for my nephew, who is a vegetarian and who will have cheese soup instead.
It's amazing what you can accomplish from a hospital bed when you put your mind to it. And what's even more amazing is that even in the state she's in right now, the uppermost thought in her mind is how she can serve her family. Not her garden, not a television show, not the house or anything else. She wants to do for those people she loves the most.
That's my Mom.
And I love her.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Mom is being moved to a regular room sometime today if the surgeon signs off on it.
We're both glad and fearful at the same time. Glad, because it means she's that much closer to going back to rehab and eventually settling in her new home. Fearful, because it seems some things have changed.
Oh, we were warned. We were told that the symptoms of her stroke would worsen and that it would be temporary. The thing is, we don't know HOW temporary. A week? A month? This is something we need to find out from the surgeon, as well as possibly getting another brain scan to see if indeed she did have another stroke during the after-surgery problems.
The problems she's having now have to do with memory and speech. Her speech is slurred, much more than it was before. The nurses also say she is having problems swallowing again. But the worst problem is her memory.
She thinks she and Dad are still married.
They've been divorced since 1999.
She asked Sis yesterday where Dad was. When Sis told her he was out of town, she said that was typical of him. Let her be in the hospital, and he takes off on a trip!
Sis may or may not have struggled to keep a straight face with that one.
So today she'll be moved, and we'll work through all of this to see what tomorrow will bring. Hopefully more clearness, both in speech and memory. Hopefully better swallowing ability. Certainly there's more circulation.
I can't wait to see what happens when we do this next time.
We're both glad and fearful at the same time. Glad, because it means she's that much closer to going back to rehab and eventually settling in her new home. Fearful, because it seems some things have changed.
Oh, we were warned. We were told that the symptoms of her stroke would worsen and that it would be temporary. The thing is, we don't know HOW temporary. A week? A month? This is something we need to find out from the surgeon, as well as possibly getting another brain scan to see if indeed she did have another stroke during the after-surgery problems.
The problems she's having now have to do with memory and speech. Her speech is slurred, much more than it was before. The nurses also say she is having problems swallowing again. But the worst problem is her memory.
She thinks she and Dad are still married.
They've been divorced since 1999.
She asked Sis yesterday where Dad was. When Sis told her he was out of town, she said that was typical of him. Let her be in the hospital, and he takes off on a trip!
Sis may or may not have struggled to keep a straight face with that one.
So today she'll be moved, and we'll work through all of this to see what tomorrow will bring. Hopefully more clearness, both in speech and memory. Hopefully better swallowing ability. Certainly there's more circulation.
I can't wait to see what happens when we do this next time.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Breathing Easier
Mom was taken off of the vent today.
She is breathing well on her own, and just as predicted, her blood pressure has come back up.
Thanks to the marvels of modern pharmacology she is still feeling no pain and is resting comfortably. She will likely remain in ICU for the rest of the day and possibly tomorrow.
More updates later!
She is breathing well on her own, and just as predicted, her blood pressure has come back up.
Thanks to the marvels of modern pharmacology she is still feeling no pain and is resting comfortably. She will likely remain in ICU for the rest of the day and possibly tomorrow.
More updates later!
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Life Goes On Somehow
Tonight Hubster and the kids came with me to see Mom.
They hadn't been in to see her since before her surgery, so it was time. Sometimes they need to see what Sis and I go through on a daily basis to appreciate the life they have and to understand more of the life Sis and I have to lead now. Regardless of whether or not Mom is "the same as she was before the stroke" or not, she is still a person - still someone worthy of love and respect. She is still the same person who fixed all those meals and babysat all those times. The same person whose main joy was in giving to her family. The same person who would do any and everything she could for the people she loved.
Sometimes they forget that. And sometimes they need to be reminded. So tonight they were.
Mom's neck looks much better. You can even tell she has a chin, which is a great improvement over yesterday. Rather than looking as if she has no neck at all, she now resembles a bullfrog.
Sorry, Mom. It will get better with time.
The huge bandage has been removed and replaced with a piece of gauze. There is still a very small amount of oozing from the incision, but it is hardly enough to notice.
Tomorrow morning they have decided to give her another trial to see if she is better able to breathe on her own. There is still some concern that the pressure of the swelling may be compromising her ability to breathe on her own, and if that's the case they'll just leave the vent in until the swelling subsides further.
In the meantime, they are still giving her medication to keep her blood pressure up. The sedation and the morphine seem to be lowering it quite a bit. The cardiologist was in today and ordered her to have more fluids in hopes of pushing her pressure up some, but both he and the ICU nurses believe once she is off of all the sedation and morphine it should right itself.
I'll go by there on the way to work tomorrow, and then again after work to see how she's doing. I usually call a few times in the hours I'm not there, so the nurses and I become well acquainted early on. My vacation/sick/personal leave is quickly being depleted or I would try to take part of tomorrow off to at least see her through the test she has to take.
This having-to-work-to-eat stuff really isn't all it's cracked up to be.
But life goes on, and so will we.
They hadn't been in to see her since before her surgery, so it was time. Sometimes they need to see what Sis and I go through on a daily basis to appreciate the life they have and to understand more of the life Sis and I have to lead now. Regardless of whether or not Mom is "the same as she was before the stroke" or not, she is still a person - still someone worthy of love and respect. She is still the same person who fixed all those meals and babysat all those times. The same person whose main joy was in giving to her family. The same person who would do any and everything she could for the people she loved.
Sometimes they forget that. And sometimes they need to be reminded. So tonight they were.
Mom's neck looks much better. You can even tell she has a chin, which is a great improvement over yesterday. Rather than looking as if she has no neck at all, she now resembles a bullfrog.
Sorry, Mom. It will get better with time.
The huge bandage has been removed and replaced with a piece of gauze. There is still a very small amount of oozing from the incision, but it is hardly enough to notice.
Tomorrow morning they have decided to give her another trial to see if she is better able to breathe on her own. There is still some concern that the pressure of the swelling may be compromising her ability to breathe on her own, and if that's the case they'll just leave the vent in until the swelling subsides further.
In the meantime, they are still giving her medication to keep her blood pressure up. The sedation and the morphine seem to be lowering it quite a bit. The cardiologist was in today and ordered her to have more fluids in hopes of pushing her pressure up some, but both he and the ICU nurses believe once she is off of all the sedation and morphine it should right itself.
I'll go by there on the way to work tomorrow, and then again after work to see how she's doing. I usually call a few times in the hours I'm not there, so the nurses and I become well acquainted early on. My vacation/sick/personal leave is quickly being depleted or I would try to take part of tomorrow off to at least see her through the test she has to take.
This having-to-work-to-eat stuff really isn't all it's cracked up to be.
But life goes on, and so will we.
ICU But You Don't See Me Because You're Sedated
And on a ventilator. Still.
Mom's neck still looks like the neck of someone who is world reknown for weightlifting or wrestling. To be sure her airway isn't compromised due to all the swelling, the ICU nurse is pushing for another 24 hours on the vent. That's fine with us at this point. We know how Mom would react to the swelling and to the pain if she weren't asleep.
Her blood pressure is holding steady except when they give her morphine. It takes a dip then, but they have medication to overcome it that works within 5 minutes. We can't tell if she's still seeping from the wound or not, as the doctor has given orders that the bandage is not to be moved for the time being. Again, that's just fine with us.
In the meantime, Sis and I are trusting the ICU to do its job. We come in two or three times a day to check on Mom, but there are no longer any marathon sit-in-the-ICU-all-day sessions as there were when she first had the stroke. It's better for us, and in the longrun, better for Mom. We need to let her rest and heal without hovering over her and worrying.
As I told the nurse, it's so much different this time. For one, we know she'll get better. There's almost no doubt of that. And for another, once you've been through the ICU in a situation where you truly don't know whether someone is going to live or die, it's much easier to turn their care over to professionals with more confidence.
So we'll wait. God will heal her in His own time, and then we'll begin the dance again. Only this time with more blood flow to her brain, and hopefully more energy.
Only time will tell.
Mom's neck still looks like the neck of someone who is world reknown for weightlifting or wrestling. To be sure her airway isn't compromised due to all the swelling, the ICU nurse is pushing for another 24 hours on the vent. That's fine with us at this point. We know how Mom would react to the swelling and to the pain if she weren't asleep.
Her blood pressure is holding steady except when they give her morphine. It takes a dip then, but they have medication to overcome it that works within 5 minutes. We can't tell if she's still seeping from the wound or not, as the doctor has given orders that the bandage is not to be moved for the time being. Again, that's just fine with us.
In the meantime, Sis and I are trusting the ICU to do its job. We come in two or three times a day to check on Mom, but there are no longer any marathon sit-in-the-ICU-all-day sessions as there were when she first had the stroke. It's better for us, and in the longrun, better for Mom. We need to let her rest and heal without hovering over her and worrying.
As I told the nurse, it's so much different this time. For one, we know she'll get better. There's almost no doubt of that. And for another, once you've been through the ICU in a situation where you truly don't know whether someone is going to live or die, it's much easier to turn their care over to professionals with more confidence.
So we'll wait. God will heal her in His own time, and then we'll begin the dance again. Only this time with more blood flow to her brain, and hopefully more energy.
Only time will tell.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Keeping the Status Quo
Fresh from a visit to the hospital, I bring you news.
The pulmonary doctor does not seem to think Mom aspirated any of the fluid or blood that was caused by the hematoma. This is a good thing, because there is less chance of infection developing in her lungs.
Right now she looks like someone took a winter muffler and wrapped it all the way around her neck, then covered it with skin. That's how swollen her neck is. The nurses say there are several drains in place that are catching the leakage, and hopefully the swelling will subside in a day or two. For right now they have ice packs on it.
They're talking about leaving her on the vent until they are completely sure there will be no compromised airway when they remove it. That may mean keeping her on it for a few days or even a week. But better to have her on it that to have her wake up and be scared about what's happened to her body while she was asleep.
Sis and I pop in throughout the day to visit for a few minutes and to make sure everything is going well. It's so different this time because we aren't that worried about if she's going to live or die. This time it's just a question of how long is it until she gets better.
In the meantime I'm trying to complete a project for my part-time job this weekend as well as be at the hospital and be home with my family. I don't think I have this particular juggling act down, so I'll have to muddle through somehow.
For right now though, I've taken a sleeping pill and can't keep my eyes open. G'night.
The pulmonary doctor does not seem to think Mom aspirated any of the fluid or blood that was caused by the hematoma. This is a good thing, because there is less chance of infection developing in her lungs.
Right now she looks like someone took a winter muffler and wrapped it all the way around her neck, then covered it with skin. That's how swollen her neck is. The nurses say there are several drains in place that are catching the leakage, and hopefully the swelling will subside in a day or two. For right now they have ice packs on it.
They're talking about leaving her on the vent until they are completely sure there will be no compromised airway when they remove it. That may mean keeping her on it for a few days or even a week. But better to have her on it that to have her wake up and be scared about what's happened to her body while she was asleep.
Sis and I pop in throughout the day to visit for a few minutes and to make sure everything is going well. It's so different this time because we aren't that worried about if she's going to live or die. This time it's just a question of how long is it until she gets better.
In the meantime I'm trying to complete a project for my part-time job this weekend as well as be at the hospital and be home with my family. I don't think I have this particular juggling act down, so I'll have to muddle through somehow.
For right now though, I've taken a sleeping pill and can't keep my eyes open. G'night.
Friday, September 12, 2008
The LOOOOONG And Winding Day
With apologies to Paul McCartney.
The day started out very early, as days are wont to do. I got to the hospital before either Sis or Mom, but both were there by 7:30 a.m. We had to wait a while to be called for admission since we were technically not supposed to be there before 8:45 a.m. The rehab center believes in sending clients an hour early, so we were there an hour early.
Mom didn't seem to have any fear or trepidation today. We were both glad for that. They called her back and got her loaded on the gurney, dressed in her gown, and the IV started. It took a while for the anesthesiologist to come in to talk to her, and after he did, her doctor came in. He explained what he was going to do, what we could expect, and how long we could expect the surgery to take.
I asked if he was a praying man, and he told me he certainly was - he prayed for each and every one of his patients as he scrubbed up for their surgeries. So he, Sis and I joined hands and prayed for Mom right then and there.
Mom, even without the benefit of anesthesia, slept through the whole thing.
Later, just before she was taken to surgery, another anesthesiologist came in to go over her meds and history with us. Imagine my surprise when I saw it was one of my best friends from high school! Mom knew her and she knew Mom, so we knew Mom would be well taken care of for sure. And off they went.
A couple of hours later the doctor came out and told us everything had gone well and Mom was resting comfortably in the Recovery Room. Sis decided to go to work for a couple of hours. An hour after that I was told she had been transferred to ICU, where she was to spend the night before being transferred to a regular room tomorrow.
And that's where things went a little wonky.
I went back to see her in ICU. The nurse was suctioning her throat, and told me she was just having a hard time coughing up the mucus from the breathing tube she'd had in during the surgery. There was a huge bandage on her neck that was leaking blood all around it. Mom was acting as if she couldn't breathe, even though the nurse said she could. Mom threw off her covers and told me she hurt and wanted me to do something about it.
All of a sudden she started bleeding a stream onto her neck. Since I'm not the type to handle blood and stay conscious, the nurse told me to head back to the waiting room. Being the obedient, not-wanting-to-faint type, I obeyed. I waited for a while, then decided to go one floor down to the coffee shop to get something to eat since I hadn't had anything all day. When I got back some of the other people in the waiting room told me the nurse had been looking for me. I told them I was back and they pulled me inside the ICU door before telling me Mom was back in surgery.
It was that quick.
The nurse hadn't wanted to tell me, but Mom pulling the covers off was a sign she was in distress. When she started bleeding the nurse knew she was in trouble. Apparently, because Mom was on Plavix when she had the surgery, it caused blood to seep into an area next to her esophagus forming a hematoma. It pressed on her esophagus, cutting off part of her airway.
Because of the quick thinking of the nurse, the doctor was able to get into the ICU and they were both able to help Mom in record time.
Mom's heartbeat sped up way too fast during this time because of all the stress. Due to this they had to use the paddles to shock it back into normal rhythm. The doctor pulled out "all kinds of clots" according to the nurse before he took her back to surgery. Thankfully, my friend was still there and she was able to come out and update both of us on what was happening, since Sis had rushed back.
When the doctor came out he told us he didn't think Mom had suffered another stroke due to this, and he'd run extra tests just to be sure everything was alright. He did take her off of the Plavix until further notice, and he told us he was going to leave her intubated and sedated in ICU for at least the night and probably tomorrow.
And then there was a tornado warning and we all had to go downstairs to the basement.
When we came back up we finally got to see Mom. She was peaceful, breathing well on the ventilator, and had been cleaned up from the last time I saw her. Sis and I both knew there was nothing else we could do tonight, so we made the decision to go home and get some rest for tomorrow.
Because it looks to be another long day.
The day started out very early, as days are wont to do. I got to the hospital before either Sis or Mom, but both were there by 7:30 a.m. We had to wait a while to be called for admission since we were technically not supposed to be there before 8:45 a.m. The rehab center believes in sending clients an hour early, so we were there an hour early.
Mom didn't seem to have any fear or trepidation today. We were both glad for that. They called her back and got her loaded on the gurney, dressed in her gown, and the IV started. It took a while for the anesthesiologist to come in to talk to her, and after he did, her doctor came in. He explained what he was going to do, what we could expect, and how long we could expect the surgery to take.
I asked if he was a praying man, and he told me he certainly was - he prayed for each and every one of his patients as he scrubbed up for their surgeries. So he, Sis and I joined hands and prayed for Mom right then and there.
Mom, even without the benefit of anesthesia, slept through the whole thing.
Later, just before she was taken to surgery, another anesthesiologist came in to go over her meds and history with us. Imagine my surprise when I saw it was one of my best friends from high school! Mom knew her and she knew Mom, so we knew Mom would be well taken care of for sure. And off they went.
A couple of hours later the doctor came out and told us everything had gone well and Mom was resting comfortably in the Recovery Room. Sis decided to go to work for a couple of hours. An hour after that I was told she had been transferred to ICU, where she was to spend the night before being transferred to a regular room tomorrow.
And that's where things went a little wonky.
I went back to see her in ICU. The nurse was suctioning her throat, and told me she was just having a hard time coughing up the mucus from the breathing tube she'd had in during the surgery. There was a huge bandage on her neck that was leaking blood all around it. Mom was acting as if she couldn't breathe, even though the nurse said she could. Mom threw off her covers and told me she hurt and wanted me to do something about it.
All of a sudden she started bleeding a stream onto her neck. Since I'm not the type to handle blood and stay conscious, the nurse told me to head back to the waiting room. Being the obedient, not-wanting-to-faint type, I obeyed. I waited for a while, then decided to go one floor down to the coffee shop to get something to eat since I hadn't had anything all day. When I got back some of the other people in the waiting room told me the nurse had been looking for me. I told them I was back and they pulled me inside the ICU door before telling me Mom was back in surgery.
It was that quick.
The nurse hadn't wanted to tell me, but Mom pulling the covers off was a sign she was in distress. When she started bleeding the nurse knew she was in trouble. Apparently, because Mom was on Plavix when she had the surgery, it caused blood to seep into an area next to her esophagus forming a hematoma. It pressed on her esophagus, cutting off part of her airway.
Because of the quick thinking of the nurse, the doctor was able to get into the ICU and they were both able to help Mom in record time.
Mom's heartbeat sped up way too fast during this time because of all the stress. Due to this they had to use the paddles to shock it back into normal rhythm. The doctor pulled out "all kinds of clots" according to the nurse before he took her back to surgery. Thankfully, my friend was still there and she was able to come out and update both of us on what was happening, since Sis had rushed back.
When the doctor came out he told us he didn't think Mom had suffered another stroke due to this, and he'd run extra tests just to be sure everything was alright. He did take her off of the Plavix until further notice, and he told us he was going to leave her intubated and sedated in ICU for at least the night and probably tomorrow.
And then there was a tornado warning and we all had to go downstairs to the basement.
When we came back up we finally got to see Mom. She was peaceful, breathing well on the ventilator, and had been cleaned up from the last time I saw her. Sis and I both knew there was nothing else we could do tonight, so we made the decision to go home and get some rest for tomorrow.
Because it looks to be another long day.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
A Little Dab'l Do Ya
Doc took pity on poor Mom and prescribed the aforementioned Xanax for her today.
The dosage was very small - only .25 mg every four hours as needed - but even that amount relaxed her so much she had a hard time staying awake. At this point that's not such a bad thing. Much better that than all the tears and worry she was going through the night before.
During therapy today she was able to move her left leg even more than before she went to the hospital the last time. We're encouraged by that, but still not overly hopeful. The chances of her walking again are almost nonexistent, although she has taken a step or two with a walker.
Tomorrow is the day we've been waiting for since July. She'll arrive at the hospital around 7:30 in the morning to get checked in and prepped for her surgery at 10:15 a.m. We haven't been told yet how long the surgery will take, but we know she'll be staying overnight. We hope to take her back to the rehab center on Saturday with a much-increased blood flow to her brain on the right side. After all, you can't get much worse than 95% blocked, so it has to get better after the surgery. I just wish we hadn't had to wait so long for it to happen.
Call me crazy, but part of me still hopes that the Mom I used to know will come back after these surgeries are completed. The logical part of me knows it's a pipe dream, but the hopeful part of me so wants to believe she is still in there somewhere and will reappear. Yes, even after all this time. Yes, even after all the damage done to her brain. Hope dies hard in this daughter of a stubborn woman. I can't help it.
So tomorrow we'll go to the hospital and sit with her, then sit and wait while she's in surgery, then sit with her some more. And we'll pray the entire time that God's will is done in her life, whatever that may be.
But we'll hope for miracles.
The dosage was very small - only .25 mg every four hours as needed - but even that amount relaxed her so much she had a hard time staying awake. At this point that's not such a bad thing. Much better that than all the tears and worry she was going through the night before.
During therapy today she was able to move her left leg even more than before she went to the hospital the last time. We're encouraged by that, but still not overly hopeful. The chances of her walking again are almost nonexistent, although she has taken a step or two with a walker.
Tomorrow is the day we've been waiting for since July. She'll arrive at the hospital around 7:30 in the morning to get checked in and prepped for her surgery at 10:15 a.m. We haven't been told yet how long the surgery will take, but we know she'll be staying overnight. We hope to take her back to the rehab center on Saturday with a much-increased blood flow to her brain on the right side. After all, you can't get much worse than 95% blocked, so it has to get better after the surgery. I just wish we hadn't had to wait so long for it to happen.
Call me crazy, but part of me still hopes that the Mom I used to know will come back after these surgeries are completed. The logical part of me knows it's a pipe dream, but the hopeful part of me so wants to believe she is still in there somewhere and will reappear. Yes, even after all this time. Yes, even after all the damage done to her brain. Hope dies hard in this daughter of a stubborn woman. I can't help it.
So tomorrow we'll go to the hospital and sit with her, then sit and wait while she's in surgery, then sit with her some more. And we'll pray the entire time that God's will is done in her life, whatever that may be.
But we'll hope for miracles.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
What's Good For The Daughter May Be Good For The Mom
The Boy had a football game tonight, so I determined I was not going to the rehab center to see Mom.
So after the football game tonight I went to the rehab center to see Mom.
Guilt is a powerful motivator.
She had her hair cut and styled today and it looked nice. It's the first time she's been able to have her hair cut since June due to all the going back and forth to the hospital and canceling of appointments with the hairdresser, so I was glad to see it done.
There were three aides in the room when I got there, two of whom were getting her ready for bed. The other was wasting time, which seems to be a habit with this particular aide. Mom is still having problems with her bottom and the after effects of the bleeding in her GI tract. We're hoping this clears up soon. Until then it hurts her every time she has to be cleaned up, and she makes it known. I feel sorry for her, but I feel sorry for the aides as well.
The aides as well as the nurses have noticed her mood change since she's been back from the hospital. I explained to them that she is scared to death about the upcoming surgery, and one of the nurses suggested some Xanax might help relieve her anxiety. Being a fan of Xanax myself, I agreed. It's been a friend to me during times of extreme stress these past months. She'll be checking with the doctor to see what he thinks about using it short-term.
There are times I would like to grind it up and put it in every meal Mom eats, even though I will probably burn in hell for even thinking that.
Just pretend like you didn't read that last line.
At any rate, tonight's visit was very short since I had to pick up The Boy from the school. She's still concerned that he will be hurt during a game. The first question after I told her where I'd been tonight was not "Who won?" but "Is The Boy OK?" She worries.
But I'm thinking she might worry less after breakfast tomorrow....
So after the football game tonight I went to the rehab center to see Mom.
Guilt is a powerful motivator.
She had her hair cut and styled today and it looked nice. It's the first time she's been able to have her hair cut since June due to all the going back and forth to the hospital and canceling of appointments with the hairdresser, so I was glad to see it done.
There were three aides in the room when I got there, two of whom were getting her ready for bed. The other was wasting time, which seems to be a habit with this particular aide. Mom is still having problems with her bottom and the after effects of the bleeding in her GI tract. We're hoping this clears up soon. Until then it hurts her every time she has to be cleaned up, and she makes it known. I feel sorry for her, but I feel sorry for the aides as well.
The aides as well as the nurses have noticed her mood change since she's been back from the hospital. I explained to them that she is scared to death about the upcoming surgery, and one of the nurses suggested some Xanax might help relieve her anxiety. Being a fan of Xanax myself, I agreed. It's been a friend to me during times of extreme stress these past months. She'll be checking with the doctor to see what he thinks about using it short-term.
There are times I would like to grind it up and put it in every meal Mom eats, even though I will probably burn in hell for even thinking that.
Just pretend like you didn't read that last line.
At any rate, tonight's visit was very short since I had to pick up The Boy from the school. She's still concerned that he will be hurt during a game. The first question after I told her where I'd been tonight was not "Who won?" but "Is The Boy OK?" She worries.
But I'm thinking she might worry less after breakfast tomorrow....
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
De Mom Is Demanding
Sis went to the hospital this morning.
Doc called me at home to tell me he was releasing Mom since they couldn't hold her until the surgery due to the Medicare rule. I called Sis, and she told me to go ahead and go to work. She didn't think she'd have any trouble getting Mom back to the rehab center.
Of course, she didn't count on the hospital. Or the nurses. Or the social worker. Or Mom.
All told it took her from around 9 a.m. to around 2 p.m. to get all the paperwork done and Mom back in bed for a nap at Rehab Central. During this time Mom decided to be a pill, wanting this rubbed and that moved and this gotten and that taken somewhere else. And when it was all done just as she'd asked, she wanted to know where I was. Poor Sis had her hands full and then some.
I showed up this evening after work with chicken livers. Unfortunately, I bought them from a different place this time and they were about the consistency of rocks. Mom seemed to enjoy them, though. After dinner I took her back to her room and got her into bed. I unpacked some of her things and she talked to me about how scared she was about the surgery coming up on Friday. She honestly thinks she's got a good chance of dying, and nothing we say can convince her otherwise.
It all stems from a neighbor we had who was supposed to have had the same type of surgery over twenty-five years ago. She talked to Mom then about the "dangers" of the surgery and the "almost certain risk" there was of another stroke or death, and it stuck with Mom all these years. Now the neighbor is long dead, but the fear lingers on. Never mind that Mom's sister had the same surgery successfully. Mom thinks she's a goner.
And then she started feeling sorry for herself.
"What have I ever done to deserve this? I never hurt anyone in my life..."
And that's where I stepped in. After all, enough is enough, stroke or no. I told her in no uncertain terms she was NOT going to die, that this was common surgery, that her sister had lived through it, and so would she. I told her to stop feeling sorry for herself and to buck up and get over it, because none of us had the time or the energy to deal with it. And besides, she was getting the sheets all wet and the aides were going to think it was my fault. It was a pep talk that would've brought a tear to your eye. Truly.
In the end I got a grin out of her and got her out of the mood. But I don't think I got her out of the fear. Only getting through the surgery without dying will do that. And I'm sure it will come back before the next surgery. That's how her mind works now.
She's hoping to see some family before she goes in Friday. We told her a nephew and his family are coming up after the surgery on Saturday. Being the ever-optimistic person she is now, she said,"What good will that do me? I'll be dead by then!"
Of course, my sister Chopped and myself, Liver, will be there for the entire saga. But we don't count. It's the OTHERS she wants to see.
But if we're not there, you can bet she'll want to know why.
Doc called me at home to tell me he was releasing Mom since they couldn't hold her until the surgery due to the Medicare rule. I called Sis, and she told me to go ahead and go to work. She didn't think she'd have any trouble getting Mom back to the rehab center.
Of course, she didn't count on the hospital. Or the nurses. Or the social worker. Or Mom.
All told it took her from around 9 a.m. to around 2 p.m. to get all the paperwork done and Mom back in bed for a nap at Rehab Central. During this time Mom decided to be a pill, wanting this rubbed and that moved and this gotten and that taken somewhere else. And when it was all done just as she'd asked, she wanted to know where I was. Poor Sis had her hands full and then some.
I showed up this evening after work with chicken livers. Unfortunately, I bought them from a different place this time and they were about the consistency of rocks. Mom seemed to enjoy them, though. After dinner I took her back to her room and got her into bed. I unpacked some of her things and she talked to me about how scared she was about the surgery coming up on Friday. She honestly thinks she's got a good chance of dying, and nothing we say can convince her otherwise.
It all stems from a neighbor we had who was supposed to have had the same type of surgery over twenty-five years ago. She talked to Mom then about the "dangers" of the surgery and the "almost certain risk" there was of another stroke or death, and it stuck with Mom all these years. Now the neighbor is long dead, but the fear lingers on. Never mind that Mom's sister had the same surgery successfully. Mom thinks she's a goner.
And then she started feeling sorry for herself.
"What have I ever done to deserve this? I never hurt anyone in my life..."
And that's where I stepped in. After all, enough is enough, stroke or no. I told her in no uncertain terms she was NOT going to die, that this was common surgery, that her sister had lived through it, and so would she. I told her to stop feeling sorry for herself and to buck up and get over it, because none of us had the time or the energy to deal with it. And besides, she was getting the sheets all wet and the aides were going to think it was my fault. It was a pep talk that would've brought a tear to your eye. Truly.
In the end I got a grin out of her and got her out of the mood. But I don't think I got her out of the fear. Only getting through the surgery without dying will do that. And I'm sure it will come back before the next surgery. That's how her mind works now.
She's hoping to see some family before she goes in Friday. We told her a nephew and his family are coming up after the surgery on Saturday. Being the ever-optimistic person she is now, she said,"What good will that do me? I'll be dead by then!"
Of course, my sister Chopped and myself, Liver, will be there for the entire saga. But we don't count. It's the OTHERS she wants to see.
But if we're not there, you can bet she'll want to know why.
It's The Yo-Yo Effect, Only Back And Forth Instead Of Up And Down...Kind Of
Mom is being released from the hospital today for the 132nd time.
Her bleeding has stopped, and the only physical problem she now seems to have is the bottom area. However, that seems to be clearing up as well.
What is not so nice is that we have to take her back to rehab today, then haul her back to the hospital on Friday morning for her surgery. They won't even let her spend the night before surgery in the hospital so that she doesn't have to get up at zero-dawn-thirty to be there. So it's Sunday Monday in, Tuesday Wednesday Thursday out, Friday in, Saturday out.
No wonder the woman is confused.
She was also completely ticked that we had to miss her eye appointment on Monday due to all the hullabaloo, and insisted we could still go if they'd just take the catheter out. I disagreed.
She's been hard to get along with this past week, or maybe it's just that Sis and I are so tired. Last night she asked why Sis and I don't laugh anymore. It's hard to laugh when all you want to do sometimes is be as far away from the person you love and the situation they're in as you can get. Not because you don't love them or care about what happens to them, but because you're tired of it all. So stinking tired you could just keel over at any time. This is one of those times.
But it won't last forever.
We just have to hang on and trust that God has a plan in all of this. That Mom will eventually get through rehab and be the best that she can be. That we will find the best place for her. That we will settle in to whatever normal there is waiting for us and go on with our lives. That there will be happiness for all of us in this again.
God is big, and He can handle all of that. I can't. So I'm putting the yo-yo back in His hands again. He knows all the fancy tricks I don't. He's good at it. I'm not.
Play on, God. Play on.
Her bleeding has stopped, and the only physical problem she now seems to have is the bottom area. However, that seems to be clearing up as well.
What is not so nice is that we have to take her back to rehab today, then haul her back to the hospital on Friday morning for her surgery. They won't even let her spend the night before surgery in the hospital so that she doesn't have to get up at zero-dawn-thirty to be there. So it's Sunday Monday in, Tuesday Wednesday Thursday out, Friday in, Saturday out.
No wonder the woman is confused.
She was also completely ticked that we had to miss her eye appointment on Monday due to all the hullabaloo, and insisted we could still go if they'd just take the catheter out. I disagreed.
She's been hard to get along with this past week, or maybe it's just that Sis and I are so tired. Last night she asked why Sis and I don't laugh anymore. It's hard to laugh when all you want to do sometimes is be as far away from the person you love and the situation they're in as you can get. Not because you don't love them or care about what happens to them, but because you're tired of it all. So stinking tired you could just keel over at any time. This is one of those times.
But it won't last forever.
We just have to hang on and trust that God has a plan in all of this. That Mom will eventually get through rehab and be the best that she can be. That we will find the best place for her. That we will settle in to whatever normal there is waiting for us and go on with our lives. That there will be happiness for all of us in this again.
God is big, and He can handle all of that. I can't. So I'm putting the yo-yo back in His hands again. He knows all the fancy tricks I don't. He's good at it. I'm not.
Play on, God. Play on.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Just As We Suspected
Another scope was done this morning.
I went to work in order to keep my job, but Sis was there with Mom. Since Mom is an old hat at these things now, there was no reason for both of us to be there. After all, we knew what they'd find.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Since Mom is refusing the laxatives necessary for the camera swallow, there is nothing else the GI team can do except recommend she be taken off of the Coumadin. Of course, Drs. Me and Sis have already decided that, as well as Doc after a conversation with him this morning. We will do this no more.
Plavix will have to do the job, along with a daily aspirin. And if the bleeding continues, one of them will go. Better that than have her live the "life" she's been living the past few months.
As of now the surgery is still scheduled for Friday. We'll see what the morrow will bring, because the morrow has been known to leave some pretty nasty stuff.
And please, let me take this opportunity to thank those of you who have been so very encouraging, hopeful, and who smack me around when I need it. You let me vent here as I can no other place, and that means a great deal to me. I think particularly of my wonderful friend Linds, who has been the rock on which I've stood, leaned, cried, bellowed to, and rejoiced with. "Some American" cares for you more than you know, my friend!
I went to work in order to keep my job, but Sis was there with Mom. Since Mom is an old hat at these things now, there was no reason for both of us to be there. After all, we knew what they'd find.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Since Mom is refusing the laxatives necessary for the camera swallow, there is nothing else the GI team can do except recommend she be taken off of the Coumadin. Of course, Drs. Me and Sis have already decided that, as well as Doc after a conversation with him this morning. We will do this no more.
Plavix will have to do the job, along with a daily aspirin. And if the bleeding continues, one of them will go. Better that than have her live the "life" she's been living the past few months.
As of now the surgery is still scheduled for Friday. We'll see what the morrow will bring, because the morrow has been known to leave some pretty nasty stuff.
And please, let me take this opportunity to thank those of you who have been so very encouraging, hopeful, and who smack me around when I need it. You let me vent here as I can no other place, and that means a great deal to me. I think particularly of my wonderful friend Linds, who has been the rock on which I've stood, leaned, cried, bellowed to, and rejoiced with. "Some American" cares for you more than you know, my friend!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Better, But Still Not Perfect
OK. After the blowup of last post, we'll get on to a saner output in this one.
Mom is better today. No mixing up of words, no unfinished sentences. Her hemoglobin is back up, and measured at over 11 this morning, but had dropped to 10.4 by this afternoon. She is still bleeding from somewhere in the upper gastric region, and that was evidenced by continued nausea today. She was given medication for the nausea which did seem to help. We still have the same problems with her bottom and stools.
The GI doctor's partner came in to see her today and talked with her about doing another scope and possible camera swallow. Mom was emphatic that she was NOT going to take ANY more laxatives, and pretty much told the guy where he could place any laxatives he wanted to try to give her and how high they could go.
He gawked at her, then made a hasty retreat after saying he'd have the partner that usually talks with Mom come in to see her tomorrow. Somehow I think Mom will have the same opinion then as today, but I could be wrong. Or not.
It was all I could do to keep from giving her a "high five."
Mom had three different sets of visitors today, and when the last group left she was pretty tired out. Sis came in for the evening shift before 4 p.m. and I left for the day. I'll be going to work tomorrow, but I plan to stop by the hospital tomorrow morning early enough to talk with Doc about the plan of treatment this time. And to tell him she isn't leaving until whatever it is is FIXED this time. And that she's never going back on Coumadin again.
As for me personally, I am far from worn out. A good friend from church called to find out how things were going and how they could help, so I told her. And it was done. The church has been great throughout all of this from the beginning.
Now that I know that the chest pains were from excessive reflux due to stress they have gone away. I am making it a point to eat regularly, sleep well, and tonight I cooked dinner for both tonight and tomorrow night. The crockpot is my friend. I am not stressing over the state of the house. I am not stressing over the state of the flower beds or the yard. I am taking it one day at a time, and letting God handle the rest. I have no other choice.
This will not last forever. Mom won't be in the hospital forever. Mom won't be in rehab forever. I have to cherish the time I have with her while she's here, but I also have to cherish the time I have with my children while they are home, and with my husband.
Because you never know what tomorrow will bring.
Mom is better today. No mixing up of words, no unfinished sentences. Her hemoglobin is back up, and measured at over 11 this morning, but had dropped to 10.4 by this afternoon. She is still bleeding from somewhere in the upper gastric region, and that was evidenced by continued nausea today. She was given medication for the nausea which did seem to help. We still have the same problems with her bottom and stools.
The GI doctor's partner came in to see her today and talked with her about doing another scope and possible camera swallow. Mom was emphatic that she was NOT going to take ANY more laxatives, and pretty much told the guy where he could place any laxatives he wanted to try to give her and how high they could go.
He gawked at her, then made a hasty retreat after saying he'd have the partner that usually talks with Mom come in to see her tomorrow. Somehow I think Mom will have the same opinion then as today, but I could be wrong. Or not.
It was all I could do to keep from giving her a "high five."
Mom had three different sets of visitors today, and when the last group left she was pretty tired out. Sis came in for the evening shift before 4 p.m. and I left for the day. I'll be going to work tomorrow, but I plan to stop by the hospital tomorrow morning early enough to talk with Doc about the plan of treatment this time. And to tell him she isn't leaving until whatever it is is FIXED this time. And that she's never going back on Coumadin again.
As for me personally, I am far from worn out. A good friend from church called to find out how things were going and how they could help, so I told her. And it was done. The church has been great throughout all of this from the beginning.
Now that I know that the chest pains were from excessive reflux due to stress they have gone away. I am making it a point to eat regularly, sleep well, and tonight I cooked dinner for both tonight and tomorrow night. The crockpot is my friend. I am not stressing over the state of the house. I am not stressing over the state of the flower beds or the yard. I am taking it one day at a time, and letting God handle the rest. I have no other choice.
This will not last forever. Mom won't be in the hospital forever. Mom won't be in rehab forever. I have to cherish the time I have with her while she's here, but I also have to cherish the time I have with my children while they are home, and with my husband.
Because you never know what tomorrow will bring.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
We're Thinking About Taking Out Stock
After all, with the amount of time we've spent in the hospital lately, we might as well be stockholders. Or at least have our own personal suite.
Mom is back in the hospital again, getting yet another transfusion. There is another bleed somewhere in her upper GI tract. Sis and I are both doubtful the GI docs will be able to find it. After all, they've been down her gullet with a scope three times now, and haven't found it yet. Why should this time be different?
But we have made a decision.
Mom will receive no more Coumadin. She's already on Plavix to keep her stents from clotting up, and there is no need for her to be on two different blood thinners. Besides that, Coumadin has done nothing but cause her grief since she's been on it. Rather than keep her from having another stroke, it's kept her from taking advantage of the rehabilitation she could be utilizing now by causing all of the bleeds she's had over the past few months. If they can't keep her INR where it needs to be with the Plavix, then we'll just take the risk of her having another stroke. The way she's living now is literally a living hell, and we won't see her go through it any more. It's too painful for her, and she will not suffer through it again.
Her behind is broken out still and is bleeding every time she's cleaned up. No matter how much protective cream they put on her it doesn't seem to help. She cries out in pain every time she has to be cleaned up, and it breaks our hearts. But it has to be done.
Along with the internal bleeding this time, something else strange is happening. Mom is mixing up words, calling things by the wrong name. She's also unable to speak in complete sentences some of the time, or to tell us where exactly she hurts. Tonight she called the call pad for her nurse a "biscuit" and told the nurse she didn't hurt anywhere even though she was groaning in pain. When she doesn't feel well she often transfers her pain in her mind to other people, including her doctor. The last time she was in the hospital she said she felt sorry for Doc because his hip hurt so much. The first time she had to have a transfusion she was upset because she thought Cutie had to have one as well.
The stress associated with all of this for Sis and me is almost greater than we can bear. We both feel so torn between our mother and our families at home. Sometimes I feel as though I'm the only one from my home family who gives a rip about her anymore, and the rest of them just want it all to be over with so I can come home and cook dinner and be Mom again. My son from out of town comes in when he can to help, but even then Mom wants to know where I am.
For the past three weeks I hid the fact that I've been suffering chest pains. When I went to the doctor for my asthma shots I mentioned it once and attributed it to stress. However, the next time I went I asked for something to help with the pain, thinking it had to do with my lungs. Instead, that doctor sent me to a cardiologist. Thankfully there was no problem on the EKG, and I believe it may have been the reflux raring its ugly head.
All this to say there is no easy fix to this. No magical cure that will make everything all better again. There's just Mom and the love we have for her, and the time we're willing to sacrifice for her because of that love. But somewhere, somehow, there has to be a balance we can reach in all aspects of this without feeling guilty.
And if you could tell me where that is, I'd most certainly buy stock.
Mom is back in the hospital again, getting yet another transfusion. There is another bleed somewhere in her upper GI tract. Sis and I are both doubtful the GI docs will be able to find it. After all, they've been down her gullet with a scope three times now, and haven't found it yet. Why should this time be different?
But we have made a decision.
Mom will receive no more Coumadin. She's already on Plavix to keep her stents from clotting up, and there is no need for her to be on two different blood thinners. Besides that, Coumadin has done nothing but cause her grief since she's been on it. Rather than keep her from having another stroke, it's kept her from taking advantage of the rehabilitation she could be utilizing now by causing all of the bleeds she's had over the past few months. If they can't keep her INR where it needs to be with the Plavix, then we'll just take the risk of her having another stroke. The way she's living now is literally a living hell, and we won't see her go through it any more. It's too painful for her, and she will not suffer through it again.
Her behind is broken out still and is bleeding every time she's cleaned up. No matter how much protective cream they put on her it doesn't seem to help. She cries out in pain every time she has to be cleaned up, and it breaks our hearts. But it has to be done.
Along with the internal bleeding this time, something else strange is happening. Mom is mixing up words, calling things by the wrong name. She's also unable to speak in complete sentences some of the time, or to tell us where exactly she hurts. Tonight she called the call pad for her nurse a "biscuit" and told the nurse she didn't hurt anywhere even though she was groaning in pain. When she doesn't feel well she often transfers her pain in her mind to other people, including her doctor. The last time she was in the hospital she said she felt sorry for Doc because his hip hurt so much. The first time she had to have a transfusion she was upset because she thought Cutie had to have one as well.
The stress associated with all of this for Sis and me is almost greater than we can bear. We both feel so torn between our mother and our families at home. Sometimes I feel as though I'm the only one from my home family who gives a rip about her anymore, and the rest of them just want it all to be over with so I can come home and cook dinner and be Mom again. My son from out of town comes in when he can to help, but even then Mom wants to know where I am.
For the past three weeks I hid the fact that I've been suffering chest pains. When I went to the doctor for my asthma shots I mentioned it once and attributed it to stress. However, the next time I went I asked for something to help with the pain, thinking it had to do with my lungs. Instead, that doctor sent me to a cardiologist. Thankfully there was no problem on the EKG, and I believe it may have been the reflux raring its ugly head.
All this to say there is no easy fix to this. No magical cure that will make everything all better again. There's just Mom and the love we have for her, and the time we're willing to sacrifice for her because of that love. But somewhere, somehow, there has to be a balance we can reach in all aspects of this without feeling guilty.
And if you could tell me where that is, I'd most certainly buy stock.
Here We Go For The Hundredth Time
We're headed back to the hospital.
Mom awoke this morning incoherent after an evening of complaining about her stomach and her behind. Her hemoglobin is back down to 6, and her INR has yet to be determined. She also has a urinary tract infection.
I so wish this part would END and she could get on with the rest of her life!
Mom awoke this morning incoherent after an evening of complaining about her stomach and her behind. Her hemoglobin is back down to 6, and her INR has yet to be determined. She also has a urinary tract infection.
I so wish this part would END and she could get on with the rest of her life!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Sing Me A Song
When I arrived at the rehab center tonight Mom was just finishing dinner. She was sitting with two very nice ladies. I had seen one of the ladies playing the piano on several occasions and I mentioned how much I enjoyed listening to her.
Big mistake on my part.
Mom got the idea that Dorothy could play the piano and I could sing. That wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that I haven't sung on a regular basis for several months now, and I'm really rusty. But Mom was not to be deterred.
So we left the dinner table and went over to the piano. Dorothy played, and I sang. And Mom, for her part in the little trio, cried. It was really kind of comical. Dorothy playing the piano with a broken ankle, me singing off-key with no breath control at all, and Mom crying because it was so beautiful and she was so proud.
Poor Mom.
Thankfully, our little impromptu concert didn't last long. I threatened the nurses with Ex-Lax if they even acknowledged they had heard anyone singing, much less me. To their credit, they cowered appropriately between laughs.
Big mistake on my part.
Mom got the idea that Dorothy could play the piano and I could sing. That wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that I haven't sung on a regular basis for several months now, and I'm really rusty. But Mom was not to be deterred.
So we left the dinner table and went over to the piano. Dorothy played, and I sang. And Mom, for her part in the little trio, cried. It was really kind of comical. Dorothy playing the piano with a broken ankle, me singing off-key with no breath control at all, and Mom crying because it was so beautiful and she was so proud.
Poor Mom.
Thankfully, our little impromptu concert didn't last long. I threatened the nurses with Ex-Lax if they even acknowledged they had heard anyone singing, much less me. To their credit, they cowered appropriately between laughs.
Monday, September 1, 2008
More Gas In Her Tank
The energy level at the rehab center seems to have increased.
When I arrived after dinner tonight Mom was set for the night, in bed, covers pulled up, but wide awake and loaded for bear. She was fooling with her FotoDialer, and I asked her what she was doing.
"Trying to call YOU. Where have you been?"
I explained the grandkids were over today and I was late getting there. She, of course, thought she had been forgotten. Somehow there is going to have to come a day when we will be able to go a day without seeing her and having her being OK with it. I just don't know when that day will ever come at this point.
Today Mom didn't take a nap. Instead, she joined several of the other residents to watch Seven Brides for Seven Brothers on the big screen television. She really enjoyed the movie, the original with Gordon Macrae. She enjoyed the big screen even more, because she could actually SEE the television. Since the stroke it's been hard for her to see much of anything. Tomorrow I'll be making an appointment for her to see an eye doctor to get new glasses in hopes she'll be able to have somewhat better eyesight. Right now it's hard for her to see even the food on her plate. With different glasses we hope that will improve.
She did not enjoy sitting in the wheelchair for the entire afternoon. Apparently her tailbone got quite sore. Wheelchairs are nothing like easy chairs. The comfort level is greatly diminished, even with a good cushion.
She told me she was able to swing her left leg in her therapy session today. We have also noticed some movement, albeit involuntary, in her left arm. Add that to the fact that she comprehends things she didn't before, and we are very encouraged.
While she was in the hospital after the heart procedure she told me she realizes her mind has been playing tricks on her. For instance, if she is asked to pick up a fork, she honestly believes she is doing it, yet her hand does not move. Whereas before she would argue that the fork had been picked up, she now realizes that her hand is not moving when her brain tells it to even though she thinks it is. That's quite a step forward.
Her new roommate told me she is (so far) very pleasant to live with, and we hope that continues. Mary Lou seems like such a sweet lady. She said that she and Mom talked for quite a while after I left last night.
When I left tonight at 7:15, Mom was just starting to feel a little sleepy. She's got a full day of therapy tomorrow with lots more energy to accomplish a lot more. We'll hope for the best and see what she can do!
When I arrived after dinner tonight Mom was set for the night, in bed, covers pulled up, but wide awake and loaded for bear. She was fooling with her FotoDialer, and I asked her what she was doing.
"Trying to call YOU. Where have you been?"
I explained the grandkids were over today and I was late getting there. She, of course, thought she had been forgotten. Somehow there is going to have to come a day when we will be able to go a day without seeing her and having her being OK with it. I just don't know when that day will ever come at this point.
Today Mom didn't take a nap. Instead, she joined several of the other residents to watch Seven Brides for Seven Brothers on the big screen television. She really enjoyed the movie, the original with Gordon Macrae. She enjoyed the big screen even more, because she could actually SEE the television. Since the stroke it's been hard for her to see much of anything. Tomorrow I'll be making an appointment for her to see an eye doctor to get new glasses in hopes she'll be able to have somewhat better eyesight. Right now it's hard for her to see even the food on her plate. With different glasses we hope that will improve.
She did not enjoy sitting in the wheelchair for the entire afternoon. Apparently her tailbone got quite sore. Wheelchairs are nothing like easy chairs. The comfort level is greatly diminished, even with a good cushion.
She told me she was able to swing her left leg in her therapy session today. We have also noticed some movement, albeit involuntary, in her left arm. Add that to the fact that she comprehends things she didn't before, and we are very encouraged.
While she was in the hospital after the heart procedure she told me she realizes her mind has been playing tricks on her. For instance, if she is asked to pick up a fork, she honestly believes she is doing it, yet her hand does not move. Whereas before she would argue that the fork had been picked up, she now realizes that her hand is not moving when her brain tells it to even though she thinks it is. That's quite a step forward.
Her new roommate told me she is (so far) very pleasant to live with, and we hope that continues. Mary Lou seems like such a sweet lady. She said that she and Mom talked for quite a while after I left last night.
When I left tonight at 7:15, Mom was just starting to feel a little sleepy. She's got a full day of therapy tomorrow with lots more energy to accomplish a lot more. We'll hope for the best and see what she can do!
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