Monday, September 26, 2005
A post while I await...
...the reheating of the water in the hot water tank in order to awaken Mom, bathe her and take her to the lab for this month's blood draw which will be just a CBC this time.
Yesterday morning I awoke feeling somewhat less forlorn over my failures and quite a bit more optimistic about my ability to amend my ways. During the dressing part of Mom's bath, though, I enumerated for her what I consider my failures in motivating her, apologized with a few tears and vowed to do better. Independent woman that she is, she took the responsibility upon herself, telling me that my failures weren't my "fault".
"Mom, they are. I'm not going to dwell on this, I'm just going to do better, but they are my fault. At 88, in your condition, you can't be expected to do more to motivate yourself than you already are, which is plenty. I'm sorry about the last year. I believe that my failure to stick to motivating you probably has caused you to be weaker now than you would have been had I not taken 'a vacation' and found all kinds of excuses for not keeping after you to move and exercise. But, I'm going to try to change my ways."
She dismissed my confession, said that she felt this last year "was just fine, I did what I wanted to do, you couldn't have stopped me from that."
Be that as it may, I of course continue my internal resolve to do better. I mention our conversation because, well, you'll see.
My resolve, without effort, turned immediately into action yesterday. After feeding her and letting her food settle while doing a half-hour's worth of "morning" chores, without prior advertisement I gathered Mom's shoes, sunglasses and hat, directed her through putting them on, rolled her walker before her and said, "Mom, we're going to take a little walk in the driveway and survey the yard. I need you to help me decide what to trim before the seasonal yard garbage pick-up."
She registered surprise and, thank the gods, enthusiasm.
I told her I'd probably coach her a little to stay close to her walker and keep her head up. I reminded her the walker was not meant to be extra work but to make the work of walking easier. I reminded her how to "apply the brakes" on her particular walker model (which involves pushing down on the handles). She arose, walkered out the door, we negotiated the steps and were off.
One lap of the driveway was all she could manage before she said, "I'm beginning to feel it in my knees."
That was all I'd planned so we were in good shape. I'd expected that she'd stop several times while we took trimming inventory. Instead she kept on the move, slow and steady, commenting on various aspects of our wild, messy yard. She even noticed that the leaves of our indigenous tree have again this year succumbed to thrips, then noticed from across the street that the one on the edge of one of our neighbor's yards exhibited the same condition. I didn't realize she could see this well.
What little coaching I did took place as she walkered up the gentle incline of our driveway from the street. I didn't drill or harass her. I just reminded her how to insure that her back took as little of the brunt of the walk as possible. She performed much better than I expected.
When we returned to the house she commented that "the weather is beautiful this time of year", relaxed in her rocker and busied herself with watching TV and reading her new magazines. At around 1600, much later than I expected, she decided to take a nap. She was only down for about an hour, of her own accord.
Again, after the very light lunch for which she opted and styling her hair, while she was scanning programs on TV, without comment I set up her exercise area in the living room and guided her to it.
I rearranged the order of some of the exercises. We started with the stand-up/sit down, with which we usually end. After she stood the last time we did the belly grip, which usually falls in the middle of the session. I cut back on some of the reps but overall she performed much as she had the last time we exercised.
During the session I studied her closely and began to wonder...toward the end I said, "Mom, do you think some of these exercises might be a little beyond your abilities now?"
She seriously considered this and said, "Yes."
"Let's try something a little different." From here on out we experimented with a short series of flexibility and balance exercises:
"I think you've got something there," she said enthusiastically.
"We'll still incorporate some of those others just to keep muscle group strength up, but I don't think we need to do all of them anymore and I don't think we need to approach them as though we're doing weight training for the Mrs. Ancient Pumped America contest."
"Oh, I agree with you there," she said.
"I think playing around and experimenting with balance and flexibility things is much better suited to who you are now."
"I like these exercises."
"You don't like those others, do you," I responded.
She made a face. "Wellll, they were becoming awfully difficult."
That settled it. I knew I was back on the right track.
The most surprising development happened today. I'd already decided that she'd walker into and out of the lab. I told her this would be her "walkering exercise" today.
All morning she and I talked about ways to incorporate ham into a variety of meals. She'd read a recipe some time ago for scalloped potatoes that included ham. Although she tends not to like potatoes she described this concoction, which incorporates onion and cheese as well as ham, with salivatory enthusiasm. Although she couldn't remember anything about the recipe except it's main ingredients I told her maybe I could figure it out from a standard recipe for scalloped potatoes.
"Mmmmm..." she said, "how about tonight for dinner?"
"Okay, but we'll have to stop at the grocery on the way back from the lab to pick up potatoes. You can stay in the car if you want and I'll dash in and get them."
She agreed.
When we arrived at the store, though, she announced, "I think I'd kind of like to go in and look around."
Yeow! Can you believe it?!? "Okay," I said, trying to sound as though this was a normal occurrence. "It'll be a short trip, so I don't think you'll get tired."
She gave me a what-is-your-problem look. "Of course I won't," she said.
She was not at all interested in sitting at the deli area, which is her usual destination. Instead she wandered, discovering a "haunted house" the store had set up to promote Halloween candy. Then she prowled through the plant area.
After I picked up potatoes and bananas I remembered that we'd need milk for the scalloped potato dish. "It's on the other side of the store, Mom. I'll tell you what. I'll dash over there and meet you in the middle of the store by the cash registers."
That was fine with her. When I returned she was leaning against the barbequed chicken display admiring the plump, juicy offerings. We talked about the superiority of this store's chickens, one of which we had a couple of weeks ago. I assured her we'd have one again soon but tonight we had plans for scalloped potatoes with ham.
"Oh, yes," she exclaimed. "We musn't forget those!"
We went through the automated self check-out. As usual, she marveled at the procedure and said that the next time we come through she wanted to try it. I promised her she could.
On our way out a couple of middle aged men winked at us. She beamed.
She's napping, now. Her knees aren't bothering her and she's not stiff. I expect she'll probably put in a couple of hours. Her body isn't used to as much activity as it's gotten in the last twenty-four hours. I haven't decided if we'll do our exercise play tonight...I'll play that by ear.
Although I know my mother is fundamentally wrong about her decision to take responsibility for her sedentary, lethargic year, I also realize, after today, that it is important to her to feel reponsible. This allowed my vow to get her moving to seep into her subconscious, I think, and allows her to become a cooperative participant rather than the object of my action. I didn't expect my vow to work itself out this way but I now see that this is the best way for it to work. Being Ancient does not delete the universally salutary effects of feeling that one's life belongs to oneself and is primarily reponsive to one's own decisions about how to live it, mistakes and all.
Once we returned home I reminded her of the winking men and of the moments of humorous pleasure the lab tech took in a couple of little incidents at the lab which involved me saying some typical phrases to her that are a part of our "routine". "We make a good team, Mom," I concluded. "People notice us, take pleasure in us, are entertained by us, and we have a good time together mixing with the world."
"You bet we do." She grinned.
"So maybe we should take this show on the road more often," I said.
"You bet. As often as possible."
She's a year older now, a year further down The Road of the Ancients. While it's true that some Ancients still go to work in their 90's, some practice rigorous callisthenics daily, some spend a good hour Tai Chi-ing, and some are in nursing homes in fetal positions, my mother is my mother and she's forging her own path through Ancienthood, just like every other Ancient. My job is to keep track of her, assist when necessary or desirable, protect her from over-zealous medical people, keep the business of her life running smoothly and allow us to enjoy each other and the world. What a peach of a job!
In almost miraculous response to my commiseration over my failures of the last year, yesterday I received a message from a reader who took care of both her parents. Understanding what I was going through, she reminded me that second-guessing is beside the point when caregiving, I "can only do what [I] can do"; that my mother is happy with me, thus bound to live longer for this reason alone; and what is important is to "keep communicating and interacting." I believe she is right. I'm grateful she was moved to remind me of these items.
I did compile a review of our "normal" exercise session of yesterday which I'll be entering over at the =>Moving =>Mom section when I get a moment. I'll also be establishing links from there to here to incorporate the walkering sessions and the revision of our exercise sessions.
As you can probably guess, posting this took a couple of separated sessions.
Later. When I have another moment.
Again, thank you.
Yesterday morning I awoke feeling somewhat less forlorn over my failures and quite a bit more optimistic about my ability to amend my ways. During the dressing part of Mom's bath, though, I enumerated for her what I consider my failures in motivating her, apologized with a few tears and vowed to do better. Independent woman that she is, she took the responsibility upon herself, telling me that my failures weren't my "fault".
"Mom, they are. I'm not going to dwell on this, I'm just going to do better, but they are my fault. At 88, in your condition, you can't be expected to do more to motivate yourself than you already are, which is plenty. I'm sorry about the last year. I believe that my failure to stick to motivating you probably has caused you to be weaker now than you would have been had I not taken 'a vacation' and found all kinds of excuses for not keeping after you to move and exercise. But, I'm going to try to change my ways."
She dismissed my confession, said that she felt this last year "was just fine, I did what I wanted to do, you couldn't have stopped me from that."
Be that as it may, I of course continue my internal resolve to do better. I mention our conversation because, well, you'll see.
My resolve, without effort, turned immediately into action yesterday. After feeding her and letting her food settle while doing a half-hour's worth of "morning" chores, without prior advertisement I gathered Mom's shoes, sunglasses and hat, directed her through putting them on, rolled her walker before her and said, "Mom, we're going to take a little walk in the driveway and survey the yard. I need you to help me decide what to trim before the seasonal yard garbage pick-up."
She registered surprise and, thank the gods, enthusiasm.
I told her I'd probably coach her a little to stay close to her walker and keep her head up. I reminded her the walker was not meant to be extra work but to make the work of walking easier. I reminded her how to "apply the brakes" on her particular walker model (which involves pushing down on the handles). She arose, walkered out the door, we negotiated the steps and were off.
One lap of the driveway was all she could manage before she said, "I'm beginning to feel it in my knees."
That was all I'd planned so we were in good shape. I'd expected that she'd stop several times while we took trimming inventory. Instead she kept on the move, slow and steady, commenting on various aspects of our wild, messy yard. She even noticed that the leaves of our indigenous tree have again this year succumbed to thrips, then noticed from across the street that the one on the edge of one of our neighbor's yards exhibited the same condition. I didn't realize she could see this well.
What little coaching I did took place as she walkered up the gentle incline of our driveway from the street. I didn't drill or harass her. I just reminded her how to insure that her back took as little of the brunt of the walk as possible. She performed much better than I expected.
When we returned to the house she commented that "the weather is beautiful this time of year", relaxed in her rocker and busied herself with watching TV and reading her new magazines. At around 1600, much later than I expected, she decided to take a nap. She was only down for about an hour, of her own accord.
Again, after the very light lunch for which she opted and styling her hair, while she was scanning programs on TV, without comment I set up her exercise area in the living room and guided her to it.
I rearranged the order of some of the exercises. We started with the stand-up/sit down, with which we usually end. After she stood the last time we did the belly grip, which usually falls in the middle of the session. I cut back on some of the reps but overall she performed much as she had the last time we exercised.
During the session I studied her closely and began to wonder...toward the end I said, "Mom, do you think some of these exercises might be a little beyond your abilities now?"
She seriously considered this and said, "Yes."
"Let's try something a little different." From here on out we experimented with a short series of flexibility and balance exercises:
- We did some chicken wing flaps with her arms bent at the elbow; first both arms together than alternate arms. She participated vigorously.
- I brought her to her feet, had her hold onto my outstretched arms and we did a series of hip sways and weight shifting. She had no trouble keeping her balance and enjoyed the "hula" effect of the exercise.
- I had her sit and directed her through slumping forward several times, breathing deep from her diaphragm and letting her back relax in that position, then sitting upright. While she was in one of the slumps she initiated a short, argumentative discussion about where the diaphragm was located. This clued me into the fact that her ability to breathe is good in a variety of positions. It didn't used to be.
- I had her stand up once more and while she held onto my arms again we bounced just a little from the knees. She was surprised this didn't bother her knees. So was I.
- After sitting I positioned myself at various spots around her body and directed her to push against me as I pushed against her. This is an exercise the FT taught me a year and a half ago to improve balance and confidence as it relates to body strength. She and I were both surprised at how hard she was able to push.
"I think you've got something there," she said enthusiastically.
"We'll still incorporate some of those others just to keep muscle group strength up, but I don't think we need to do all of them anymore and I don't think we need to approach them as though we're doing weight training for the Mrs. Ancient Pumped America contest."
"Oh, I agree with you there," she said.
"I think playing around and experimenting with balance and flexibility things is much better suited to who you are now."
"I like these exercises."
"You don't like those others, do you," I responded.
She made a face. "Wellll, they were becoming awfully difficult."
That settled it. I knew I was back on the right track.
The most surprising development happened today. I'd already decided that she'd walker into and out of the lab. I told her this would be her "walkering exercise" today.
All morning she and I talked about ways to incorporate ham into a variety of meals. She'd read a recipe some time ago for scalloped potatoes that included ham. Although she tends not to like potatoes she described this concoction, which incorporates onion and cheese as well as ham, with salivatory enthusiasm. Although she couldn't remember anything about the recipe except it's main ingredients I told her maybe I could figure it out from a standard recipe for scalloped potatoes.
"Mmmmm..." she said, "how about tonight for dinner?"
"Okay, but we'll have to stop at the grocery on the way back from the lab to pick up potatoes. You can stay in the car if you want and I'll dash in and get them."
She agreed.
When we arrived at the store, though, she announced, "I think I'd kind of like to go in and look around."
Yeow! Can you believe it?!? "Okay," I said, trying to sound as though this was a normal occurrence. "It'll be a short trip, so I don't think you'll get tired."
She gave me a what-is-your-problem look. "Of course I won't," she said.
She was not at all interested in sitting at the deli area, which is her usual destination. Instead she wandered, discovering a "haunted house" the store had set up to promote Halloween candy. Then she prowled through the plant area.
After I picked up potatoes and bananas I remembered that we'd need milk for the scalloped potato dish. "It's on the other side of the store, Mom. I'll tell you what. I'll dash over there and meet you in the middle of the store by the cash registers."
That was fine with her. When I returned she was leaning against the barbequed chicken display admiring the plump, juicy offerings. We talked about the superiority of this store's chickens, one of which we had a couple of weeks ago. I assured her we'd have one again soon but tonight we had plans for scalloped potatoes with ham.
"Oh, yes," she exclaimed. "We musn't forget those!"
We went through the automated self check-out. As usual, she marveled at the procedure and said that the next time we come through she wanted to try it. I promised her she could.
On our way out a couple of middle aged men winked at us. She beamed.
She's napping, now. Her knees aren't bothering her and she's not stiff. I expect she'll probably put in a couple of hours. Her body isn't used to as much activity as it's gotten in the last twenty-four hours. I haven't decided if we'll do our exercise play tonight...I'll play that by ear.
Although I know my mother is fundamentally wrong about her decision to take responsibility for her sedentary, lethargic year, I also realize, after today, that it is important to her to feel reponsible. This allowed my vow to get her moving to seep into her subconscious, I think, and allows her to become a cooperative participant rather than the object of my action. I didn't expect my vow to work itself out this way but I now see that this is the best way for it to work. Being Ancient does not delete the universally salutary effects of feeling that one's life belongs to oneself and is primarily reponsive to one's own decisions about how to live it, mistakes and all.
Once we returned home I reminded her of the winking men and of the moments of humorous pleasure the lab tech took in a couple of little incidents at the lab which involved me saying some typical phrases to her that are a part of our "routine". "We make a good team, Mom," I concluded. "People notice us, take pleasure in us, are entertained by us, and we have a good time together mixing with the world."
"You bet we do." She grinned.
"So maybe we should take this show on the road more often," I said.
"You bet. As often as possible."
She's a year older now, a year further down The Road of the Ancients. While it's true that some Ancients still go to work in their 90's, some practice rigorous callisthenics daily, some spend a good hour Tai Chi-ing, and some are in nursing homes in fetal positions, my mother is my mother and she's forging her own path through Ancienthood, just like every other Ancient. My job is to keep track of her, assist when necessary or desirable, protect her from over-zealous medical people, keep the business of her life running smoothly and allow us to enjoy each other and the world. What a peach of a job!
In almost miraculous response to my commiseration over my failures of the last year, yesterday I received a message from a reader who took care of both her parents. Understanding what I was going through, she reminded me that second-guessing is beside the point when caregiving, I "can only do what [I] can do"; that my mother is happy with me, thus bound to live longer for this reason alone; and what is important is to "keep communicating and interacting." I believe she is right. I'm grateful she was moved to remind me of these items.
I did compile a review of our "normal" exercise session of yesterday which I'll be entering over at the =>Moving =>Mom section when I get a moment. I'll also be establishing links from there to here to incorporate the walkering sessions and the revision of our exercise sessions.
As you can probably guess, posting this took a couple of separated sessions.
Later. When I have another moment.
Again, thank you.
