Friday, February 11, 2005
So, it looks like I forgot to post here, yesterday!
I was busy, I guess.
Sometime yesterday evening, probably about the time it began to rain, although Mom and I are so snug against it we wouldn't know if it started to rain, we both observed that it seemed like a Friday evening. Today, I note, seems like the Saturday of a baking weekend. Which means we'll have an extended weekend. Which I could use, since I'm still looking for a few tax documents and need some uninterrupted time to go waist deep in boxes of papers. My oblique Living Papers Filing System is going to stop. This winter. Period. I always find everything, because nothing gets thrown away, but, god, what I have to wade through!
Anyway, it is raining, plainly, as in Spain, as I write. I feel good although I've already snapped at Mom this morning and she isn't even up. I peeked in on her at 0845 and noticed that her oxygen was off. I checked the bathroom...no indication that she was there in the middle of the night, which would be a 'legitimate' explanation for her oxygen being off. So, I figured she took it off just because she wanted to. As well, she was laying in her typical, "I'm oxygen starved" pose, flung backwards over her pillow, arched through the torso, mouth fully open, chest heaving. This is the third morning I've discovered her like this. She needs at least the nightly oxygen right now to get her boosted into the day, since her body is battle engaged. So I woke her up rudely with no apology, directed her to put her oxygen back on, delivered a short, pointed, probably painful lecture on why her night oxygen was necessary, and bid her back to sleep, which is where she went. Immediately. She probably won't remember the incident consciously but tomorrow morning, when I peak in, if she hasn't been to the bathroom in the middle of the night, her oxygen will be securely attached to her faced.
And, you ask, how do I know she didn't go to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Because, when she does the cannula and cording are discarded after she's sitting on the edge of the bed and are, invariably, on the floor, toward the foot of the bed.
On the one hand, I sympathize enough with her age and aging that when I am convinced that she is on her way out and no longer wants to be bothered with the machinery of living through old age I'll let her sleep without oxygen, etc. But, she's not there, yet.
So, yeah, yesterday was a good day. I did some recreational reading (Yeow, can you beleive that?!?) of a serious subject. A book a friend recently passed to me. Mom and I watched some of the Oscar Roundup on TCM yesterday. We caught Lust for Life. I'd never seen it. Mom was absorbed. So was I, although I thought Douglas' portrayal of Van Gogh was awfully hammy. He did not receive an Oscar for his performance. Quinn did for his portrayal of Gauguin. I was charmed by his performance. It was understated and charismatic. He and Alfred Molina share a quality that allows them to nicely shoulder any character.
We watched Philadelphia, which is riveting on repeated viewings because you can hone in on the individual performances of the actors. This time while watching it I wondered if the scene where Miller leaves Beckett's apartment after being treated to an impromptu operatic lesson in death in life, when he stops, sneaks back to the door, considers knocking, then turns around, then turns back, then turns around and leaves chuckling at himself, I wondered if that scene was improvised: Like, they kept the cameras rolling after the official end of the scene and Washington remained in character and reacted to what had just happened.
It seems as though there was another movie in there, too, or maybe some Kung Fu The Complete First Season episodes. We are both, shamelessly and shamefully, getting into this show. The cover of The Complete Second Season promises an episode with Harrison Ford as a character actor. We haven't yet run across that one. I remain astonished at how mellow television was back when this show was originally aired, before 1973, I'm sure, because I remember seeing it on Guam. This was considered action TV at that time. It is not uncommon for an episode to float peacefully by while an event is being waded through, which inevitably turns out not to be nearly as violent as one can watch in the opening moments of, say, CSI: Crime Scene Investigations. I continue to remain amazed, as well, that, during a spate of fisticuffs remains the rule that impact is never filmed. Damage is shown, but impact is blurred or cut away from. Wow.
The day took place on a plateau. We had exactly the same food for dinner as breakfast. The day involved only two meals. Mom slept a lot. I read. And we watched two types of media on TV.
Her urine is already clearing up on this course of Levaquin, even though I continue to scrub out the toilet daily so that I can get a good shot at what her urine looks like throughout the day. I notice our water bill went up a dollar in the last month. That's probably all the extra flushes when I'm cleaning her toilet. Almost every day. I have hopes that this doubled up course of Levaquin will clear this infection, whatever it is, before we get around to finding out what it is.
I have been haunted by a constant litany, deposited into my brain during our last doctor's appointment: "She'll have more UTIs." Yes, I guess she will.
We'll probably have ham again for breakfast since I haven't yet frozen it. It is raining, as Seattle rain, so who knows when Mom will stir again. Maybe, by the time she awakens, I'll have something baked. Maybe not.
Later.
Sometime yesterday evening, probably about the time it began to rain, although Mom and I are so snug against it we wouldn't know if it started to rain, we both observed that it seemed like a Friday evening. Today, I note, seems like the Saturday of a baking weekend. Which means we'll have an extended weekend. Which I could use, since I'm still looking for a few tax documents and need some uninterrupted time to go waist deep in boxes of papers. My oblique Living Papers Filing System is going to stop. This winter. Period. I always find everything, because nothing gets thrown away, but, god, what I have to wade through!
Anyway, it is raining, plainly, as in Spain, as I write. I feel good although I've already snapped at Mom this morning and she isn't even up. I peeked in on her at 0845 and noticed that her oxygen was off. I checked the bathroom...no indication that she was there in the middle of the night, which would be a 'legitimate' explanation for her oxygen being off. So, I figured she took it off just because she wanted to. As well, she was laying in her typical, "I'm oxygen starved" pose, flung backwards over her pillow, arched through the torso, mouth fully open, chest heaving. This is the third morning I've discovered her like this. She needs at least the nightly oxygen right now to get her boosted into the day, since her body is battle engaged. So I woke her up rudely with no apology, directed her to put her oxygen back on, delivered a short, pointed, probably painful lecture on why her night oxygen was necessary, and bid her back to sleep, which is where she went. Immediately. She probably won't remember the incident consciously but tomorrow morning, when I peak in, if she hasn't been to the bathroom in the middle of the night, her oxygen will be securely attached to her faced.
And, you ask, how do I know she didn't go to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Because, when she does the cannula and cording are discarded after she's sitting on the edge of the bed and are, invariably, on the floor, toward the foot of the bed.
On the one hand, I sympathize enough with her age and aging that when I am convinced that she is on her way out and no longer wants to be bothered with the machinery of living through old age I'll let her sleep without oxygen, etc. But, she's not there, yet.
So, yeah, yesterday was a good day. I did some recreational reading (Yeow, can you beleive that?!?) of a serious subject. A book a friend recently passed to me. Mom and I watched some of the Oscar Roundup on TCM yesterday. We caught Lust for Life. I'd never seen it. Mom was absorbed. So was I, although I thought Douglas' portrayal of Van Gogh was awfully hammy. He did not receive an Oscar for his performance. Quinn did for his portrayal of Gauguin. I was charmed by his performance. It was understated and charismatic. He and Alfred Molina share a quality that allows them to nicely shoulder any character.
We watched Philadelphia, which is riveting on repeated viewings because you can hone in on the individual performances of the actors. This time while watching it I wondered if the scene where Miller leaves Beckett's apartment after being treated to an impromptu operatic lesson in death in life, when he stops, sneaks back to the door, considers knocking, then turns around, then turns back, then turns around and leaves chuckling at himself, I wondered if that scene was improvised: Like, they kept the cameras rolling after the official end of the scene and Washington remained in character and reacted to what had just happened.
It seems as though there was another movie in there, too, or maybe some Kung Fu The Complete First Season episodes. We are both, shamelessly and shamefully, getting into this show. The cover of The Complete Second Season promises an episode with Harrison Ford as a character actor. We haven't yet run across that one. I remain astonished at how mellow television was back when this show was originally aired, before 1973, I'm sure, because I remember seeing it on Guam. This was considered action TV at that time. It is not uncommon for an episode to float peacefully by while an event is being waded through, which inevitably turns out not to be nearly as violent as one can watch in the opening moments of, say, CSI: Crime Scene Investigations. I continue to remain amazed, as well, that, during a spate of fisticuffs remains the rule that impact is never filmed. Damage is shown, but impact is blurred or cut away from. Wow.
The day took place on a plateau. We had exactly the same food for dinner as breakfast. The day involved only two meals. Mom slept a lot. I read. And we watched two types of media on TV.
Her urine is already clearing up on this course of Levaquin, even though I continue to scrub out the toilet daily so that I can get a good shot at what her urine looks like throughout the day. I notice our water bill went up a dollar in the last month. That's probably all the extra flushes when I'm cleaning her toilet. Almost every day. I have hopes that this doubled up course of Levaquin will clear this infection, whatever it is, before we get around to finding out what it is.
I have been haunted by a constant litany, deposited into my brain during our last doctor's appointment: "She'll have more UTIs." Yes, I guess she will.
We'll probably have ham again for breakfast since I haven't yet frozen it. It is raining, as Seattle rain, so who knows when Mom will stir again. Maybe, by the time she awakens, I'll have something baked. Maybe not.
Later.
