Monday, February 14, 2005
Happy Valentine's Day!
I so rarely entitle my posts with something conventionally cheery and I'm feeling a bit dour, this morning, so I thought I'd indulge myself in a bit of irony. I've had plans to recognize Valentine's Day this year: Mom saw a picture, last week, in the coupon section of the Sunday paper, of a Cold Stone Creamery Valentine's Day Cake and she's been day dreaming over that coupon section since last Sunday, keeping it meticulously on the eating side of the table. I called the "800" number, since I couldn't get through to the local number: Unless you want writing, you don't have to pre-order the cakes; they have a variety of cakes in a variety of sizes available. My plan was to pick one up this afternoon, while she was napping, for dinner tonight, a Valentine's Day Just Desserts Dinner. I haven't said anything, I was waiting to see how her health, and thus her appetite, played out; They've been hearty. In fact, I think, right now, my illness demonstrates that her immune system is better than mine.
So, I spent yesterday becoming progressively sick. I think today is going to be the peak of whatever bug I have: Sore throat, very tired, probably a little fever as I awoke sweating this morning and, believe me, I keep my bedroom quite cold in the winter, luckily no lung involvement neither yesterday nor today but some kind of bizarre stomach thing, including cramps and diarrhea last night at an unfortunate time. I awoke wasted late this morning.
Nonetheless, we had a pretty good day yesterday; slow, but good, mostly watching movies. Throughout the day we saw two and a half movies: The last half of Chocolat, the first half of which we'd seen the night before; What Dreams May Come, with which we were only peripherally pleased (our reactions to which I'll record on the movie site); Boys on the Side, which was, as always, delightful. The last movie ended about 2200. During the last half hour I'd begun to notice that my intestines were beginning to cramp. Not connecting it with actually being sick (the sore throat, stuffy, blah, blah, blah feeling), I decided to spend a couple of hours taking home remedies for the stomach problem, thinking it might have been dinner (no, one of the "home remedies" is not purging...it was too late for that, anyway).
Around midnight, when I was over the hump and recuperating from the worst of the stomach problems, Mom floated into the living room, turned her rocker to face me (usually, the rocker is facing the TV), I noticed she was clearly troubled by something, and she said, "You've got to straighten me out about the two weeks I seem to have lost!"
I had to scramble a little to understand this even though I knew it was connected with her memory. Over the last several days she's remembered Grandma, her mother, as though she is alive. She has also remembered several other people alive including her sister and her brother. She remembered some surprising ones as dead: A first cousin who had diabetes his entire life (died in 2003); Her only brother-in-law; her only on-her-side sister-in-law; her father and, of course, her husband and her husband's relatives; the daughter of one of her cousins.
I won't repeat the conversation as I often do. Suffice it to say, it lasted until she went to bed at 0200. It was agonizing for her because, even as I filled in details she was so agitated she'd forget them and we'd restart the conversation as if anew. The only aspect of all this of which she understood, although I didn't think she would, is that she is not missing two weeks, she's missing about 20 years.
I also characterized her forgetfulness in detail:
As a footnote, at one point in this long and involved conversation last night she rummaged for cigarettes and we had yet another conversation about how she no longer smokes.
Although she's not yet up, she was awake a bit ago. I checked in on her. She does not remember her memory anxiety last night. She is tired, she mentioned she "can't figure out why", I reminded her of our late night conversation (not the specifics) and she said, "Oh, that's nice! I don't think I want to get up, yet."
So, I'm feeling as though I'm in an enclosed Sick Box. My energy level is on the floor so I am going to do as little as possible and hope that Mom's energy level isn't too high. I'm not sure about Valentine's Day. I feel too miserable to shower and I can't go out without showering. I'm thinking I might need to take a nap late this afternoon when Mom takes her midday nap.
Well, it looks like I'm getting a reprieve this morning, which I need. I just peaked in on her and she's still sleeping. Good. I need some time to be alone and sick. Sometimes, you know, I think she senses when I need time alone and purposely grabs that as a chance for extra sleep. When I think about this I resolve to try to keep her from having that excuse, but, eventually, when I really, really need time alone, I think we collude.
So, I spent yesterday becoming progressively sick. I think today is going to be the peak of whatever bug I have: Sore throat, very tired, probably a little fever as I awoke sweating this morning and, believe me, I keep my bedroom quite cold in the winter, luckily no lung involvement neither yesterday nor today but some kind of bizarre stomach thing, including cramps and diarrhea last night at an unfortunate time. I awoke wasted late this morning.
Nonetheless, we had a pretty good day yesterday; slow, but good, mostly watching movies. Throughout the day we saw two and a half movies: The last half of Chocolat, the first half of which we'd seen the night before; What Dreams May Come, with which we were only peripherally pleased (our reactions to which I'll record on the movie site); Boys on the Side, which was, as always, delightful. The last movie ended about 2200. During the last half hour I'd begun to notice that my intestines were beginning to cramp. Not connecting it with actually being sick (the sore throat, stuffy, blah, blah, blah feeling), I decided to spend a couple of hours taking home remedies for the stomach problem, thinking it might have been dinner (no, one of the "home remedies" is not purging...it was too late for that, anyway).
Around midnight, when I was over the hump and recuperating from the worst of the stomach problems, Mom floated into the living room, turned her rocker to face me (usually, the rocker is facing the TV), I noticed she was clearly troubled by something, and she said, "You've got to straighten me out about the two weeks I seem to have lost!"
I had to scramble a little to understand this even though I knew it was connected with her memory. Over the last several days she's remembered Grandma, her mother, as though she is alive. She has also remembered several other people alive including her sister and her brother. She remembered some surprising ones as dead: A first cousin who had diabetes his entire life (died in 2003); Her only brother-in-law; her only on-her-side sister-in-law; her father and, of course, her husband and her husband's relatives; the daughter of one of her cousins.
I won't repeat the conversation as I often do. Suffice it to say, it lasted until she went to bed at 0200. It was agonizing for her because, even as I filled in details she was so agitated she'd forget them and we'd restart the conversation as if anew. The only aspect of all this of which she understood, although I didn't think she would, is that she is not missing two weeks, she's missing about 20 years.
I also characterized her forgetfulness in detail:
- I explained to her that she never completely forgets anything. The character of her forgetting, I told her, changes. There are some days when she remembers everything except what happened a few minutes ago. There are some days she remembers only what happens a few minutes ago (although those days are exceedingly rare). Some days she remembers that her parents are dead; but, then she remembers someone else who is dead as not being dead.
- Although she rarely expresses it, I know that when she is agitated over this her underlying, massive concern is that she is "going to end up like Mother," who probably did have Alzheimer's and spent 6 months in a fetal position in a nursing home prior to her death. I always address this whether she mentions it or not, as I did last night: Telling her that her memory loss is stable, has a completely different profile than Alzheimer's and, as well, she is neither losing herself nor others she sees regularly, as is typical with the Alzheimer's demented.
- I explained to her that some bouts of memory problems stem from not having enough oxygen so it's important that she not take the oxygen cannula out at night (she's been doing this the last few nights).
- I assured her many times that she doesn't need to worry about her memory lapses. I am her memory and I will see to it that she remembers what she needs to when she needs to. I will also store in my memory all those things she has trouble remembering.
As a footnote, at one point in this long and involved conversation last night she rummaged for cigarettes and we had yet another conversation about how she no longer smokes.
Although she's not yet up, she was awake a bit ago. I checked in on her. She does not remember her memory anxiety last night. She is tired, she mentioned she "can't figure out why", I reminded her of our late night conversation (not the specifics) and she said, "Oh, that's nice! I don't think I want to get up, yet."
So, I'm feeling as though I'm in an enclosed Sick Box. My energy level is on the floor so I am going to do as little as possible and hope that Mom's energy level isn't too high. I'm not sure about Valentine's Day. I feel too miserable to shower and I can't go out without showering. I'm thinking I might need to take a nap late this afternoon when Mom takes her midday nap.
Well, it looks like I'm getting a reprieve this morning, which I need. I just peaked in on her and she's still sleeping. Good. I need some time to be alone and sick. Sometimes, you know, I think she senses when I need time alone and purposely grabs that as a chance for extra sleep. When I think about this I resolve to try to keep her from having that excuse, but, eventually, when I really, really need time alone, I think we collude.
