Sunday, June 12, 2005
Yes, finally...
...Stat Ketchup is once again being served over at the Tests & Meds color. The link will take you to the review following all the ketchup.
I can't lingualize, really, why I haven't been updating here lately. During most of this silent period, I've been feeling very good. Perhaps I'm working up to yet another epiphany but haven't yet experienced the moment of "piff".
I've had my days, of course, some of them dismal, some of them agitated.
There have been some triumphant days. Day before yesterday I surprised my mother with an enforced visit to the grocery store. She's been slumping back, lately, into mimicking her winter hibernation and it's been alternately scaring and annoying me, but she has remained harder to move than a planted mule. The element of surprise, though, got her up and going and she performed well with the walker and enjoyed herself on the short trip. For the rest of the day she was unusually alert. Although she took in a nap (rather like others take in a movie) she was down for only an hour; it was late in the day. When she arose she reported that she hadn't actually slept, she'd been laying "there" thinking.
"What were you thinking about?" I asked.
She was on the toilet in the bathroom, her routine stop after a nap so we can change her paper underwear and check her for leaks. "I was thinking about the family, you know, my family. How I'm the only one left."
I was shocked. We've lately had several episodes where she's talked about calling all these people and I've had to remind her, repeatedly, of their deaths. We hadn't, however, talked about any of them in a couple of days. I was flabbergasted that she was remembering their deaths on her own, thus, that she was firmly placed in the present. Her eyes looked a little wet. She's having problems with allergies, as is usual during this time of year, so I couldn't be sure and asked, "Are you crying?" Just voicing the question caused me to tear up.
"No!" Her statement was more than adamant. "No! I'm not crying!" She's not a crier by nature.
I knew she was. "Well, I am," I said, struggling to keep from bursting into sobs.
"It's just such a shame."
"I know. I'm so sorry it turned out that way for you."
"Well, sometimes that happens."
"Yeah. You can always pride yourself on figuring that maybe the best of the lot is carrying on the family reputation."
She brightened and snickered. "That's a good way of looking at it."
I reminded her of the two direct relatives who are still alive, one older and one younger, and some in-laws who survive, all older.
"Yes, I know," she said, "I just never thought it would be this way."
"Well," I said, as I've been lately wondering and asking her a lot if she's thinking of dying soon because of her unusually slow kick back from winter this year, "that's no reason for you to kick the bucket any time soon."
She composed herself quickly. "Oh, I know that. I'm not interested in doing that. No, it's just sad that the rest of them are gone."
Yesterday was a scary day, though. I awoke her around 1000, as I'd promised her I would the night before (she went to bed about 2200) but she nodded off a couple of times on the toilet while we were bathing her. This is the first time she's done that and I freaked. I'd taken a rather high blood pressure for her earlier and took it again, but neither the high one, which was taken just as she steadied herself in an upright position on the bed, nor the drop afterwards registered as unusual, considering her recent BP trends so I had to figure that she was neither mini-stroking nor crashing. She insisted on going back to bed, though, begged me to let her sleep as long as she wanted and, sure enough, she didn't arise until around 1400. From that point on she had a normal day.
I decided it's time to take a different tack. I'm prodding her to move, again. She's taking it only fairly well. We've had a few exercise sessions since 5/27, but took a long break because I just couldn't get her going. Today I launched into one of my, "It's time to move, again, Mom" lectures. This time I added a new closer: "Look," I said. "You can sleep yourself into your grave or you can act yourself into your grave. Either way, I don't think you're going to lengthen or shorten your life at this point. All I can tell you is, I've decided that I prefer that you move, get out, come with me. I know going on errands with me sounds boring to you but, you know, Mom, life is lived during the errands, during the maintenance, during the normal, everyday 'stuff and things' that you never seem to want to do with me anymore. You had a good time at the grocery the other day, walkered a lot further than either of us expected and not only did it not tire you, you were much more alert than I've seen you in a long time. So I'm going to start in on you again. I know you can be stubborn, but I can be even more stubborn than you. I've got Dad's genes inside my jeans, and you know how stubborn he could be. You scared the shit out of me yesterday when I thought you were mini-stroking or crashing on the toilet. You weren't. You've just gotten in the habit of spending too much time not moving around. Well, that's going to stop. I figure, at this point, letting you sleep the rest of your life away is just as likely to stroke you out of it as pestering you to move. And I think I know you well enough to guess that you'd rather go with your boots on and your butt in the saddle. So, I'm going to start hoisting you up there, again."
I got a wide-eyed but not negative response.
She had, though, again, forgotten who was dead. She decided, about 1900 this evening, to call "the folks", which means her parents, to see how they are. When I reminded her of their deaths she decided she wants to go by the property that used to be their home here in Prescott and find their plots in the cemetery just north of Yavapai County Medical Center, here, so we may do that tomorrow, on our way back from a short errand. She's never wanted to do this before, has, in fact, specifically forsaken the suggested opportunity to do these things. So, I don't know, maybe this means something.
Which reminds me, I want to report in here an amalgam of our several discussions about how I handle her time phasing and why. No tonight, but soon, now that I'm feeling like reporting, again.
PCP appointment in Mesa on June 21st at 1300. List of things (which will probably expand as I think of more) I want to ask:
Damn, I'm suddenly very tired. Think I'll hit the hay. Expect somewhat more somewhat sooner than...
...later.
I can't lingualize, really, why I haven't been updating here lately. During most of this silent period, I've been feeling very good. Perhaps I'm working up to yet another epiphany but haven't yet experienced the moment of "piff".
I've had my days, of course, some of them dismal, some of them agitated.
There have been some triumphant days. Day before yesterday I surprised my mother with an enforced visit to the grocery store. She's been slumping back, lately, into mimicking her winter hibernation and it's been alternately scaring and annoying me, but she has remained harder to move than a planted mule. The element of surprise, though, got her up and going and she performed well with the walker and enjoyed herself on the short trip. For the rest of the day she was unusually alert. Although she took in a nap (rather like others take in a movie) she was down for only an hour; it was late in the day. When she arose she reported that she hadn't actually slept, she'd been laying "there" thinking.
"What were you thinking about?" I asked.
She was on the toilet in the bathroom, her routine stop after a nap so we can change her paper underwear and check her for leaks. "I was thinking about the family, you know, my family. How I'm the only one left."
I was shocked. We've lately had several episodes where she's talked about calling all these people and I've had to remind her, repeatedly, of their deaths. We hadn't, however, talked about any of them in a couple of days. I was flabbergasted that she was remembering their deaths on her own, thus, that she was firmly placed in the present. Her eyes looked a little wet. She's having problems with allergies, as is usual during this time of year, so I couldn't be sure and asked, "Are you crying?" Just voicing the question caused me to tear up.
"No!" Her statement was more than adamant. "No! I'm not crying!" She's not a crier by nature.
I knew she was. "Well, I am," I said, struggling to keep from bursting into sobs.
"It's just such a shame."
"I know. I'm so sorry it turned out that way for you."
"Well, sometimes that happens."
"Yeah. You can always pride yourself on figuring that maybe the best of the lot is carrying on the family reputation."
She brightened and snickered. "That's a good way of looking at it."
I reminded her of the two direct relatives who are still alive, one older and one younger, and some in-laws who survive, all older.
"Yes, I know," she said, "I just never thought it would be this way."
"Well," I said, as I've been lately wondering and asking her a lot if she's thinking of dying soon because of her unusually slow kick back from winter this year, "that's no reason for you to kick the bucket any time soon."
She composed herself quickly. "Oh, I know that. I'm not interested in doing that. No, it's just sad that the rest of them are gone."
Yesterday was a scary day, though. I awoke her around 1000, as I'd promised her I would the night before (she went to bed about 2200) but she nodded off a couple of times on the toilet while we were bathing her. This is the first time she's done that and I freaked. I'd taken a rather high blood pressure for her earlier and took it again, but neither the high one, which was taken just as she steadied herself in an upright position on the bed, nor the drop afterwards registered as unusual, considering her recent BP trends so I had to figure that she was neither mini-stroking nor crashing. She insisted on going back to bed, though, begged me to let her sleep as long as she wanted and, sure enough, she didn't arise until around 1400. From that point on she had a normal day.
I decided it's time to take a different tack. I'm prodding her to move, again. She's taking it only fairly well. We've had a few exercise sessions since 5/27, but took a long break because I just couldn't get her going. Today I launched into one of my, "It's time to move, again, Mom" lectures. This time I added a new closer: "Look," I said. "You can sleep yourself into your grave or you can act yourself into your grave. Either way, I don't think you're going to lengthen or shorten your life at this point. All I can tell you is, I've decided that I prefer that you move, get out, come with me. I know going on errands with me sounds boring to you but, you know, Mom, life is lived during the errands, during the maintenance, during the normal, everyday 'stuff and things' that you never seem to want to do with me anymore. You had a good time at the grocery the other day, walkered a lot further than either of us expected and not only did it not tire you, you were much more alert than I've seen you in a long time. So I'm going to start in on you again. I know you can be stubborn, but I can be even more stubborn than you. I've got Dad's genes inside my jeans, and you know how stubborn he could be. You scared the shit out of me yesterday when I thought you were mini-stroking or crashing on the toilet. You weren't. You've just gotten in the habit of spending too much time not moving around. Well, that's going to stop. I figure, at this point, letting you sleep the rest of your life away is just as likely to stroke you out of it as pestering you to move. And I think I know you well enough to guess that you'd rather go with your boots on and your butt in the saddle. So, I'm going to start hoisting you up there, again."
I got a wide-eyed but not negative response.
She had, though, again, forgotten who was dead. She decided, about 1900 this evening, to call "the folks", which means her parents, to see how they are. When I reminded her of their deaths she decided she wants to go by the property that used to be their home here in Prescott and find their plots in the cemetery just north of Yavapai County Medical Center, here, so we may do that tomorrow, on our way back from a short errand. She's never wanted to do this before, has, in fact, specifically forsaken the suggested opportunity to do these things. So, I don't know, maybe this means something.
Which reminds me, I want to report in here an amalgam of our several discussions about how I handle her time phasing and why. No tonight, but soon, now that I'm feeling like reporting, again.
PCP appointment in Mesa on June 21st at 1300. List of things (which will probably expand as I think of more) I want to ask:
- Should she be taking a higher dose of aspirin;
- Upping her lisinopril to 5 mg twice a day but doing it with 2.5 mg tablets, in case more movement ameliorates her rising blood pressure;
- Getting the specific lowdown on what qualifies her as suffering from Chronic Renal Failure...not that I doubt this diagnosis, I just want to be well informed;
- Getting a better fix on about where she is in the process, since I'm not sure we're that close to her diabetes "going on vacation", but her continued prodigious sleep habits concern me;
- Checking on the advisability of a new ultrasound of her belly for records purposes;
- Would a Complete Metabolic Panel, a Hemoglobin A1c, and a few miscellaneous iron readings be a good idea at this time, to see how her enzymes and a few other things are doing;
- Anything new on the bladder control front that we might try on her;
- Renew Rx's;
- Check to see if the FNP is aware of any promising new supplementation we might try;
- Discuss my concern about her iron supplementation: I am aware that it can play havoc with colonic elimination, although we haven't yet had this problem; I am also aware that metals are metabolized by the liver at what can often be expense to this organ's healthy functioning; despite the high level of antioxidants with which I supplement her (including those found in food) is it time to check her liver enzymes (which would be included in a CMP) and do an Iron & TIBC and Ferritin panels to see if all remains well with her on this front?
Damn, I'm suddenly very tired. Think I'll hit the hay. Expect somewhat more somewhat sooner than...
...later.
