Monday, October 24, 2005
No/Yes Day.
Wow. I didn't realize it had been so long since I'd reported here.
I awoke in "No" mode. I'm not sure why, but suffice it to say that my first "No" was to the planned blood draw. I just didn't feel up to the extra energy it takes to ready Mom, get her there, get her blood drawn, take her out to breakfast as I promised last night, get her home and get her settled.
My mother, as it turns out, slept into other plans and awoke early on her own. At 0945 she surprised me, toddling out of the bathroom to ask me if today was the day she was to "donate blood". That's when I provisionally switched to "Yes" mode. Why not, I decided. May as well. She's up for it.
On the way to draw blood she began fantasizing out loud about what she was planning to "order for breakfast". This clued me that she'd remembered my after-blood-draw-restaurant-experience promise. What the hell, I thought. So we don't have her medications. It's not like she's on nitro or something equally critical. So her blood pressure and blood glucose are a little high. She's not in stroke-out or diabetic-coma range. We'll pill her up when we get home.
My, but she was energetic. She surprised me with her elan using the walker both at the lab and at the restaurant. The hostess who intended to seat us asked if it would be better if she seated us in the front room. By this time Mom had already turned her walker toward the dining area and was halfway through the front room.
"Well," I told the waitress, "it looks like she's got lots of energy today. May as well take advantage of it. You can seat us where it's most convenient for you." We were lead to a table in the middle of the back room.
Mom thoroughly enjoyed herself, ate heartily, appreciated the restaurant environment (we were seated facing a western window bank displaying trees that were in full fall-red) and chatted about the various people in the restaurant.
After we ate I decided to explore her energy level. "So, Mom, do you want to go to that hardware store with the great kitchen section and look for cookie cutters and a spritz cookie press?"
She was more than game.
Although she didn't exactly wander all over, she chose to sit on her walker in front of the cookie cutter display and examine all the choices, all of which she nixed, mostly because of price (she tends to think prices should still be at the level they were in the 1940's and 1950's), she was very taken with the cookie press I found. After I'd located all the items I had listed, she insisted on heading back to the cash register through each of the cooking section aisles to marvel at the gadgets.
It didn't take her long, once we'd arrived home, for her decide that a nap was in order. After her detox tea and the rest of her pills she shuffled into bed. I asked her if either her back or her knee were bothering her. She reported that her knee was "a little iffy" but not enough for any pain reliever. Her back, she said, was "just fine."
I was blown away, and glad that her "Yes" mode had a 180° effect on my "No" mode. Friday and Saturday she'd decided to turn into sleep days. Yesterday, when I was finally able to talk her into a little movement, although we did go to Walmart and got her a stunning Timex® watch, she was not at all spry, was a little confused and was not interested in doing anything else but buy a watch, even though I'd suggested we look for cookie cutters there. As it turned out they didn't have any. She did, however, stop at a Christmas cup display and select a cup that looked like a wrapped gift, the handle being shaped in a sideways bow, to use for her coffee during the Christmas season. When we arrived home she was stiff and sore and out of sorts and took such a long nap she had only two meals and a banana.
I want to mention, for the record, that I got my flu and my last pneumonia shot on 10/20/05. It seems that, after 1991, according to one of the nurses at the pharmacy where I was inoculated, the rule is two pneumonia shots five to six years apart and you're done for life. Interestingly, although I never react to injections, I really reacted to them this time. I was out of it for almost two days, feeling as though I was suffering from a mild case of the flu. In addition, the arm in which I received the pneumonia shot ached for the entire 48 hours. I'd been apprised of both these possible reactions by the injectors but I didn't expect them, since I've never had a problem. In fact, for the first 24 hours I couldn't figure out what was going on until my mother reminded me of the shots.
Mom'll be getting her flu shot at her routine doctor's appointment on November 1st, even though I've read in the last week that it's been discovered that flu shots are not particularly effective for preventing flu in the elderly, although they do seem to affect the incidence of pneumonia. Apparently, in the elderly who receive flu shots there is a 30% decline in pneumonia rates. I wish I could remember where I read this; I'd cite the source. At any rate, other than this shot, she'll also be receiving either a pneumonia or a tetnus shot. There's some question as to whether Medicare will allow her another pneumonia shot this year, since her last one was in 2000 and typically they only allow for a pneumonia shot every 6 years. TriCare, though, may trump Medicare in this case. If not, I'll see to it that she gets a tetnus shot, just because our outside property is loaded with all types of possibilities for puncture wounds. There is another rule, I'm not sure if it's official ounofficialal: Only two shots at a time. If this rule kicks in at her doctor's office and she is also eligiblele for the pneumonia shot then we'll get her tetnus shot at her next schedule routine doctor's visit, which will probably be late February/early March.
At pharmacy, in line for my shots, I was behind a group of three people: A woman who was 91, her husband who was 81 and the woman's daughter who was 62. I struck up a conversation about the 91 year old woman with her daughter. Although she does not use any type of mobility assistance devices her daughter told me that she should (which was obvious to me when the mother moved around) but she refuses. She is also touchy about a proffered arm. The 91 year old looked very much like my mother: Small, slightly bent and full of much more determination than her body appeared to be able to manage. The daughter mentioned that her mother was suffering from "slight dementia", which she described as much like my mother's (time phasing, people phasing, environmental phasing). Her daughter also mentioned that her mother has "advanced mobility issues" which cause a problem within her marriage: Her husband, at 81, is vigorous and capable of getting around without a problem, and does. Although not overtly resentful of his wife's disabilities due to age, the daughter believes that, deep down, he is not interested in the extra negotiation he needs to perform on his wife's behalf.
"It's the little things," she said. "He goes crazy when she repeats the same stories over and over. He stopped mediating for her at the doctor a long time ago, so I take her, now. He gets out a lot more than she does and 'forgets' to call me to stay with her, so I call them every day to see if he plans to leave her alone. If he does, I go over. He refuses to believe that she is in danger of falling, even though she suffered a bad fall a couple of months ago. He's got a reunion coming up in Washington in January. I'm sure that it's not a good idea for her to go but he keeps insisting that she must go and she continues to believe that she's able. I'm going to insist that she stay here and move in with my husband and me while he's gone. I know it's going to be like pulling teeth to work this out, but I know they'd both be better off if he went alone."
I contemplated that there are some elder care situations which are much harder for relatives to negotiate than my mother's and mine.
When the daughter stepped up for her injections, the mother, who was done, and I chatted in the spaces between the loving, teasing banter between mother and daughter about how the daughter would react to her shots: The mother seemed to remember that this daughter had to be coaxed and comforted through injections while the daughter worked hard to try to remind the mother that the daughter being remembered wasn't her, it was another sibling.
The mother joked good naturedly about how one's children remain children "right up to the end." I mentioned to her that I imagined this was true, although I'd never had children.
The mother looked startled. "Oh, dear. You couldn't, I suppose. How sad."
"Well, no," I corrected, "I didn't want to. Didn't even get married."
Suddenly the mother's face turned red with excitement and focus. She moved in very close to me and put her hand on my arm. "Oh," she said, "I always wished I could have gone through life without children and a husband. I almost thought I'd get away with a little freedom after my first husband died. But this guy," she nodded toward the man who was her second husband, "pleaded with me and he obviously needed someone to take care of him. What are you going to do?"
I quickly surveyed both her daughter and her second husband. They were both looking at her with astonishment.
At this point her daughter, trying hard to make the question into a joke, asked, "Mom, are you saying you wish you'd never had us?"
The old woman laughed. "Well, of course not, dear! I treasure you and your sister! But, you know, if things had been different, I wouldn't have regretted it..."
Ahh, the secrets of The Ancients. You just never know when they're going to fall out of an Ancient mouth and change everyone's perceptions.
This morning, by the way, while we were bathing my mother she asked me if I'd been "on the phone" when "[her cousin with the never-an-indoor-voice]" called "yesterday" and mentioned that "one of the fellows [my mother] dated in high school finally got married and had twin boys."
First I asked her some detail; what grade, what was his name, did he ask her to marry him. She couldn't remember. Then I decided to tell her that the phone call probably happened some decades ago and the man, if still alive, was probably both a grandfather and great-grandfather of twins, by now, maybe even a great-great-grandfather. She was, as usual, astonished.
The interesting thing is that last night she remembered "a fellow" she dated before she went into the Navy who took her to Chicago one evening for dinner. I'm not exactly sure if her detail, other than having dinner in Chicago with someone, is accurate: I'm thinking she may have been in the Navy; stationed someplace other than Iowa, since she insisted that driving to Chicago only took them "about an hour"; and it was either before she met my father or, in fact, "the fellow" was my father, before they married, although she denied this.
I'm not sure why she's remembering her swains, lately, but it's fun to discuss her dating life with her. Apparently, during this dinner, she decided she loved Chicago. She mentioned, last night, that she'd like to live there. I didn't respond, except to nod.
Okay, let's see. I think I'm pretty much caught up. Not sure if I'm back in a predictable saddle, again, as far as posting is concerned. We'll see...
...later.
I awoke in "No" mode. I'm not sure why, but suffice it to say that my first "No" was to the planned blood draw. I just didn't feel up to the extra energy it takes to ready Mom, get her there, get her blood drawn, take her out to breakfast as I promised last night, get her home and get her settled.
My mother, as it turns out, slept into other plans and awoke early on her own. At 0945 she surprised me, toddling out of the bathroom to ask me if today was the day she was to "donate blood". That's when I provisionally switched to "Yes" mode. Why not, I decided. May as well. She's up for it.
On the way to draw blood she began fantasizing out loud about what she was planning to "order for breakfast". This clued me that she'd remembered my after-blood-draw-restaurant-experience promise. What the hell, I thought. So we don't have her medications. It's not like she's on nitro or something equally critical. So her blood pressure and blood glucose are a little high. She's not in stroke-out or diabetic-coma range. We'll pill her up when we get home.
My, but she was energetic. She surprised me with her elan using the walker both at the lab and at the restaurant. The hostess who intended to seat us asked if it would be better if she seated us in the front room. By this time Mom had already turned her walker toward the dining area and was halfway through the front room.
"Well," I told the waitress, "it looks like she's got lots of energy today. May as well take advantage of it. You can seat us where it's most convenient for you." We were lead to a table in the middle of the back room.
Mom thoroughly enjoyed herself, ate heartily, appreciated the restaurant environment (we were seated facing a western window bank displaying trees that were in full fall-red) and chatted about the various people in the restaurant.
After we ate I decided to explore her energy level. "So, Mom, do you want to go to that hardware store with the great kitchen section and look for cookie cutters and a spritz cookie press?"
She was more than game.
Although she didn't exactly wander all over, she chose to sit on her walker in front of the cookie cutter display and examine all the choices, all of which she nixed, mostly because of price (she tends to think prices should still be at the level they were in the 1940's and 1950's), she was very taken with the cookie press I found. After I'd located all the items I had listed, she insisted on heading back to the cash register through each of the cooking section aisles to marvel at the gadgets.
It didn't take her long, once we'd arrived home, for her decide that a nap was in order. After her detox tea and the rest of her pills she shuffled into bed. I asked her if either her back or her knee were bothering her. She reported that her knee was "a little iffy" but not enough for any pain reliever. Her back, she said, was "just fine."
I was blown away, and glad that her "Yes" mode had a 180° effect on my "No" mode. Friday and Saturday she'd decided to turn into sleep days. Yesterday, when I was finally able to talk her into a little movement, although we did go to Walmart and got her a stunning Timex® watch, she was not at all spry, was a little confused and was not interested in doing anything else but buy a watch, even though I'd suggested we look for cookie cutters there. As it turned out they didn't have any. She did, however, stop at a Christmas cup display and select a cup that looked like a wrapped gift, the handle being shaped in a sideways bow, to use for her coffee during the Christmas season. When we arrived home she was stiff and sore and out of sorts and took such a long nap she had only two meals and a banana.
I want to mention, for the record, that I got my flu and my last pneumonia shot on 10/20/05. It seems that, after 1991, according to one of the nurses at the pharmacy where I was inoculated, the rule is two pneumonia shots five to six years apart and you're done for life. Interestingly, although I never react to injections, I really reacted to them this time. I was out of it for almost two days, feeling as though I was suffering from a mild case of the flu. In addition, the arm in which I received the pneumonia shot ached for the entire 48 hours. I'd been apprised of both these possible reactions by the injectors but I didn't expect them, since I've never had a problem. In fact, for the first 24 hours I couldn't figure out what was going on until my mother reminded me of the shots.
Mom'll be getting her flu shot at her routine doctor's appointment on November 1st, even though I've read in the last week that it's been discovered that flu shots are not particularly effective for preventing flu in the elderly, although they do seem to affect the incidence of pneumonia. Apparently, in the elderly who receive flu shots there is a 30% decline in pneumonia rates. I wish I could remember where I read this; I'd cite the source. At any rate, other than this shot, she'll also be receiving either a pneumonia or a tetnus shot. There's some question as to whether Medicare will allow her another pneumonia shot this year, since her last one was in 2000 and typically they only allow for a pneumonia shot every 6 years. TriCare, though, may trump Medicare in this case. If not, I'll see to it that she gets a tetnus shot, just because our outside property is loaded with all types of possibilities for puncture wounds. There is another rule, I'm not sure if it's official ounofficialal: Only two shots at a time. If this rule kicks in at her doctor's office and she is also eligiblele for the pneumonia shot then we'll get her tetnus shot at her next schedule routine doctor's visit, which will probably be late February/early March.
At pharmacy, in line for my shots, I was behind a group of three people: A woman who was 91, her husband who was 81 and the woman's daughter who was 62. I struck up a conversation about the 91 year old woman with her daughter. Although she does not use any type of mobility assistance devices her daughter told me that she should (which was obvious to me when the mother moved around) but she refuses. She is also touchy about a proffered arm. The 91 year old looked very much like my mother: Small, slightly bent and full of much more determination than her body appeared to be able to manage. The daughter mentioned that her mother was suffering from "slight dementia", which she described as much like my mother's (time phasing, people phasing, environmental phasing). Her daughter also mentioned that her mother has "advanced mobility issues" which cause a problem within her marriage: Her husband, at 81, is vigorous and capable of getting around without a problem, and does. Although not overtly resentful of his wife's disabilities due to age, the daughter believes that, deep down, he is not interested in the extra negotiation he needs to perform on his wife's behalf.
"It's the little things," she said. "He goes crazy when she repeats the same stories over and over. He stopped mediating for her at the doctor a long time ago, so I take her, now. He gets out a lot more than she does and 'forgets' to call me to stay with her, so I call them every day to see if he plans to leave her alone. If he does, I go over. He refuses to believe that she is in danger of falling, even though she suffered a bad fall a couple of months ago. He's got a reunion coming up in Washington in January. I'm sure that it's not a good idea for her to go but he keeps insisting that she must go and she continues to believe that she's able. I'm going to insist that she stay here and move in with my husband and me while he's gone. I know it's going to be like pulling teeth to work this out, but I know they'd both be better off if he went alone."
I contemplated that there are some elder care situations which are much harder for relatives to negotiate than my mother's and mine.
When the daughter stepped up for her injections, the mother, who was done, and I chatted in the spaces between the loving, teasing banter between mother and daughter about how the daughter would react to her shots: The mother seemed to remember that this daughter had to be coaxed and comforted through injections while the daughter worked hard to try to remind the mother that the daughter being remembered wasn't her, it was another sibling.
The mother joked good naturedly about how one's children remain children "right up to the end." I mentioned to her that I imagined this was true, although I'd never had children.
The mother looked startled. "Oh, dear. You couldn't, I suppose. How sad."
"Well, no," I corrected, "I didn't want to. Didn't even get married."
Suddenly the mother's face turned red with excitement and focus. She moved in very close to me and put her hand on my arm. "Oh," she said, "I always wished I could have gone through life without children and a husband. I almost thought I'd get away with a little freedom after my first husband died. But this guy," she nodded toward the man who was her second husband, "pleaded with me and he obviously needed someone to take care of him. What are you going to do?"
I quickly surveyed both her daughter and her second husband. They were both looking at her with astonishment.
At this point her daughter, trying hard to make the question into a joke, asked, "Mom, are you saying you wish you'd never had us?"
The old woman laughed. "Well, of course not, dear! I treasure you and your sister! But, you know, if things had been different, I wouldn't have regretted it..."
Ahh, the secrets of The Ancients. You just never know when they're going to fall out of an Ancient mouth and change everyone's perceptions.
This morning, by the way, while we were bathing my mother she asked me if I'd been "on the phone" when "[her cousin with the never-an-indoor-voice]" called "yesterday" and mentioned that "one of the fellows [my mother] dated in high school finally got married and had twin boys."
First I asked her some detail; what grade, what was his name, did he ask her to marry him. She couldn't remember. Then I decided to tell her that the phone call probably happened some decades ago and the man, if still alive, was probably both a grandfather and great-grandfather of twins, by now, maybe even a great-great-grandfather. She was, as usual, astonished.
The interesting thing is that last night she remembered "a fellow" she dated before she went into the Navy who took her to Chicago one evening for dinner. I'm not exactly sure if her detail, other than having dinner in Chicago with someone, is accurate: I'm thinking she may have been in the Navy; stationed someplace other than Iowa, since she insisted that driving to Chicago only took them "about an hour"; and it was either before she met my father or, in fact, "the fellow" was my father, before they married, although she denied this.
I'm not sure why she's remembering her swains, lately, but it's fun to discuss her dating life with her. Apparently, during this dinner, she decided she loved Chicago. She mentioned, last night, that she'd like to live there. I didn't respond, except to nod.
Okay, let's see. I think I'm pretty much caught up. Not sure if I'm back in a predictable saddle, again, as far as posting is concerned. We'll see...
...later.
