Saturday, October 29, 2005
Ach! There is much I want to report...
...but I'm close to dead tired so I'll do some skimming as a reminder to myself.
Later.
- I can't believe into how much movement I've been able to coax Mom in the last, oh, over a week now, I think! It's exhilarating (for me, anyway). Today, after braving a couple of her "no"'s, I got her to Costco. She performed admirably, sampled her way through the store (as usual), insisted that we do more aisles than we needed to do then I treated her to some advanced people watching while we split a Berry Smoothie at the luncheonette after paying for our goods. This is the fourth day in a row I've been able to get her out.
Tomorrow we may or may not get out. In the morning I'll be making a list of some advance experimental holiday baking and checking to see if we need any ingredients. As well, I've decided I want to make some pumpkin cranberry muffins for my birthday (maybe on my birthday). I need to purchase some pumpkin for that. We also need to pick up some more paper underwear for her, so, yeah, I guess we probably will be getting out.
The Getting Out Day that surprised me the most was yesterday, because it was gray and misty with a touch of rain. She was indomitable, though. - Although I've noticed the following in my peripheral vision before, today I was consciously aware that my mother attracts an unusual amount of attention when she's out and about. I thought about it today and realized there are a couple of reasons. First, she and I are relatively noisy in public, talking and discussing as we go. I think this surprises people. Others notice us chatting and slying our way through the public arena chiefly because we are both so animated and neither of us has particularly quiet voices. Second and most important, though, is her intensity. It's funny, I always thought I inherited my intensity solely from my father but now I see that my mother also possesses a remarkable intensity. Her eyes dart about as she studies everything and everyone surrounding her. She, like me, has a habit of inviting herself into conversations that started without her, including with strangers. She has an air of determination and interest in others that fairly shimmers in the air around her and makes her hard to miss.
- As you'll notice, Kidneygurl again comments about a spa day, perhaps half a day, she suggests. I mentioned this idea to my mother this morning. She remembered that she and her sister indulged in a couple of spa days before I came to live with her and one in my first year with her when I was working and she and I were leading fairly separate lives out of the same house. She was more than game for the idea. She enthusiastically suggested that we invite her sister along, as these were some of their most fondly remembered times together. "We can certainly afford to treat her," she said.
"Well, you're right, we can, Mom. But, you know, [MS] will be able to get in free, now that she's dead. She won't be able to be there in body, which is a shame because that's what spa days are all about, but I'm sure she'll be there in spirit."
I watched my mother's eyes dilate while she refocused her memories of her sister back into the present. "Oh. That's right. I suppose you're right. I'm sure she'll be there in spirit. Too bad she won't be able to enjoy the pampering, though."
I agree. But, you know, maybe there's some sort of spiritual spa at which she can make a parallel appointment at the same time as ours and experience the delight of being pampered at the same time as us. - Kidneygurl also mentions the Nonin company as a source of oxymeters. Thank you, Kidneygurl, for reminding me of this. I chanced on them over a year ago when I was looking around for an oxymeter and I remember being impressed by the price, which was significantly lower than several other companies. I need to do some fast research on this, in case it would help to have a prescription for one. We're now in a position where we can afford one and I think it would be a tremendous help to me. As well, my mother is always fascinated with medical diagnostic equipment and eagerly participates in discussions of her health from a numbers perspective. In case you're wondering, yes, I'm always truthful about her numbers and do not keep anything from her when speculating about what they might mean. I find that she retains a remarkable ability to refuse to take these conversations so personally that they worry her. Which, I suppose, isn't a surprise, as she continues to believe in her own immortality.
- We picked up a DVD copy of the mini-series Shogun. It has been one of my mother's top favorite TV mini-series since it first aired. At that time both she and my father had read the book and both watched the mini-series. I also remember her mentioning to me, when I lived in Seattle, that she was able to watch the series again in rerun. Soon after I moved in with her it played again and we watched most of it. Well over a year ago, when we began collecting DVDs, something, a commercial for yet another rerun of it, I think, caught her eye and she mentioned that she'd like to own it if it is ever released in a DVD version. I noticed it today at Costco and picked it up. The funny thing is, she didn't remember it. However, we began watching it tonight after dinner and she was transported. She confused it with her fairly recent viewing on cable of The Last Samurai and insisted a couple of times that this or that scene had been duplicated in "the other one we saw recently." After attempting a couple of times to retrofit her memory I gave up. I suppose I should put that one on our list of DVDs to purchase although I hadn't thought, at the time, that she'd found it interesting enough for us to own it.
- We're having a minor problem with a glob of wax in her left ear that I can't seem to dissolve or dislodge with Debrox. I used it once yesterday and once today. I haven't yet irrigated her ear after inserting the drops, as she hates this particular step and up to now it hasn't been necessary. If the plug in her ear doesn't appear to be relieved by Monday I'll call her doctor and make sure a note is made on her chart that she needs her ears cleaned professionally again. That's what we had to do the last time this happened three years ago. When she first complained that overnight her left ear had plugged I raced through all the possibilities and checked her out for infection, etc., but none of those seems to apply. It's been very frustrating, too, because her hearing isn't all that good, anyway, and I've had to increase my already resonant volume in order to get her to understand almost everything I say to her. I know it's frustrating for her, too. I hope tonight does the trick.
Later.
Here's a worthy problem for the engineers among you...
...the solution for which might also generate a tidy sum of change: Mobility assistance devices for the Ancient and/or those suffering from dementia-lite (or, perhaps, even full blown dementia). Let me explain what I mean.
Yesterday we did indeed purchase a claw-bottom cane (it goes by another name but the proper nomenclature escapes me, at the moment). The seller counseled us on its use, humored us with a good 45 minutes of Mom/cane practice before we decided to purchase it and I was able to extract an agreement that we would fool with it over the weekend and if we decided it was inappropriate for her we could return it for a full refund on Monday. Considering its reasonable price, despite what transpires this weekend we'll probably keep it but I asked for the return consideration because the one thing we don't need around here is yet another item that we don't use. We barely have room for the items we do use.
My mother's first difficulty with the cane is a common one: She couldn't divest herself of the "natural" inclination to use the cane on the weak side of the body, despite the fact that, in explanation, she agreed that using it strength-with-strength made sense. As well, although she seemed to have a natural facility for when to lean on the cane she also is going to have to break the tendency to use it as a hiker would use a walking staff: Which is to say, her tendency is to carry the cane for a few steps then put it down at the wrong time and falter when she leans her weight on it. My concern, of course, is that, considering her whimsical short and long term memory loss, even with prodigious practice the use of it will never be natural for her and she and I will both become so frustrated with the necessity for her having to relearn how to use it every time she reaches for it that it will only render itself useful if and when she suffers a truly debilitating injury due to a fall and shows signs that she will heal (mostly) from it. As well, my mother will also have to be divested of the tendency to use it to arise from a sitting position, for which it is not designed.
I didn't think to fill in the salesman on my mother's permanently but very slowly declining state of health before he began to explain the use of the cane. One of the aspects of both cane and walker usage that he highlighted was that these devices are designed to be used in order for the users to strengthen themselves and graduate out of the usage of mobility assistance devices. Although I should have guessed this from the way my mother uses such devices, I was astonished.
"You know," I responded, "for all practical purposes, my mother is not going to 'get better'. She is 88, has a variety of chronic ailments which, while well controlled, will eventually take her out and she has periods of extreme lethargy studded with periods of what, for her, is hyper-physical-activity, so she simply isn't going to be graduating off these devices. If anything, there's the possibility, the gods forbid, that she may, if she suffers severe injury from a fall, 'graduate' to constant use of a wheelchair. Besides this, as you can see, she's a little on the light side mentally, now, and using these devices requires constant relearning and constant coaching."
Before I had a chance to launch into an aren't-there-any query, the guy shrugged. He knew where I was heading. His shrug told me all I needed to know. I couldn't help but recall what MCF, who works with lots of old, disabled and demented people told me, "They all [use their walkers] that way. If you can use a walker correctly, you don't need one."
In fact, when we visited the pharmacy after our cane session, a fellow who appeared to be in his late 60's/early 70's pulled into the handicapped parking space next to us used a walker. I noticed that he was quite facile with it and was doing all the things right that my mother was doing wrong. I decided to take the opportunity to ask him about his use of the walker, if he didn't mind. As is true of most people who use these devices, he didn't. It seems that he suffered a stroke "a while back" and was using the walker to help strengthen his muscles and reflexes and make it possible for him to once again walk unaided.
When I commented that his technique with the walker was stellar, he replied, "Yup, I'm almost there. My doctor thinks I should be walking on my own in a month or so."
I asked him about difficulties he might have had when he started using it.
"Oh, I was all over the damn thing. I was a sight. Couldn't get out of the habit of pushing it, like your mother is. It still helped, it got me out, but it was a trial, at first."
I thought about what he was saying while we discussed the features of his deluxe model with hand brakes, a basket, and a seat that could be retracted while the walker was in use.
"I know this is going to sound confusing but I'm not sure how else to put it," I prefaced. "Did the walker help you use the walker better, or did you do something else to make it easier?"
I guess no one had ever asked him about this. He thought a minute. "I see what you mean," he finally answered. "Nah, now that I think of it I'd have to say the better I got at my therapy exercises, the easier it was to use the walker the way it's supposed to be used."
I thanked him and he shot off down one of the store aisles.
So, here's the problem: Mobility assistance devices need to be invented that truly assist the permanently mobility challenged in the following ways:
I have a hunch, too, considering the inventiveness of our species, that the solution is probably incredibly simple and can be cost effective to produce. So, is anyone out there up to the challenge?
Yesterday we did indeed purchase a claw-bottom cane (it goes by another name but the proper nomenclature escapes me, at the moment). The seller counseled us on its use, humored us with a good 45 minutes of Mom/cane practice before we decided to purchase it and I was able to extract an agreement that we would fool with it over the weekend and if we decided it was inappropriate for her we could return it for a full refund on Monday. Considering its reasonable price, despite what transpires this weekend we'll probably keep it but I asked for the return consideration because the one thing we don't need around here is yet another item that we don't use. We barely have room for the items we do use.
My mother's first difficulty with the cane is a common one: She couldn't divest herself of the "natural" inclination to use the cane on the weak side of the body, despite the fact that, in explanation, she agreed that using it strength-with-strength made sense. As well, although she seemed to have a natural facility for when to lean on the cane she also is going to have to break the tendency to use it as a hiker would use a walking staff: Which is to say, her tendency is to carry the cane for a few steps then put it down at the wrong time and falter when she leans her weight on it. My concern, of course, is that, considering her whimsical short and long term memory loss, even with prodigious practice the use of it will never be natural for her and she and I will both become so frustrated with the necessity for her having to relearn how to use it every time she reaches for it that it will only render itself useful if and when she suffers a truly debilitating injury due to a fall and shows signs that she will heal (mostly) from it. As well, my mother will also have to be divested of the tendency to use it to arise from a sitting position, for which it is not designed.
I didn't think to fill in the salesman on my mother's permanently but very slowly declining state of health before he began to explain the use of the cane. One of the aspects of both cane and walker usage that he highlighted was that these devices are designed to be used in order for the users to strengthen themselves and graduate out of the usage of mobility assistance devices. Although I should have guessed this from the way my mother uses such devices, I was astonished.
"You know," I responded, "for all practical purposes, my mother is not going to 'get better'. She is 88, has a variety of chronic ailments which, while well controlled, will eventually take her out and she has periods of extreme lethargy studded with periods of what, for her, is hyper-physical-activity, so she simply isn't going to be graduating off these devices. If anything, there's the possibility, the gods forbid, that she may, if she suffers severe injury from a fall, 'graduate' to constant use of a wheelchair. Besides this, as you can see, she's a little on the light side mentally, now, and using these devices requires constant relearning and constant coaching."
Before I had a chance to launch into an aren't-there-any query, the guy shrugged. He knew where I was heading. His shrug told me all I needed to know. I couldn't help but recall what MCF, who works with lots of old, disabled and demented people told me, "They all [use their walkers] that way. If you can use a walker correctly, you don't need one."
In fact, when we visited the pharmacy after our cane session, a fellow who appeared to be in his late 60's/early 70's pulled into the handicapped parking space next to us used a walker. I noticed that he was quite facile with it and was doing all the things right that my mother was doing wrong. I decided to take the opportunity to ask him about his use of the walker, if he didn't mind. As is true of most people who use these devices, he didn't. It seems that he suffered a stroke "a while back" and was using the walker to help strengthen his muscles and reflexes and make it possible for him to once again walk unaided.
When I commented that his technique with the walker was stellar, he replied, "Yup, I'm almost there. My doctor thinks I should be walking on my own in a month or so."
I asked him about difficulties he might have had when he started using it.
"Oh, I was all over the damn thing. I was a sight. Couldn't get out of the habit of pushing it, like your mother is. It still helped, it got me out, but it was a trial, at first."
I thought about what he was saying while we discussed the features of his deluxe model with hand brakes, a basket, and a seat that could be retracted while the walker was in use.
"I know this is going to sound confusing but I'm not sure how else to put it," I prefaced. "Did the walker help you use the walker better, or did you do something else to make it easier?"
I guess no one had ever asked him about this. He thought a minute. "I see what you mean," he finally answered. "Nah, now that I think of it I'd have to say the better I got at my therapy exercises, the easier it was to use the walker the way it's supposed to be used."
I thanked him and he shot off down one of the store aisles.
So, here's the problem: Mobility assistance devices need to be invented that truly assist the permanently mobility challenged in the following ways:
- They do no require the need to be learned in order to be used effectively. My mother's dementia-lite plight is not uncommon. As us baby boomers age it will become more common. The learning and training that current mobility assistance devices require needs to be dispensed with.
- The devices need to be constructed so that they so easily work with the body's engineering and debilities that they truly assist movement, rather than require a whole set of new movements that are unnatural and, initially, at least in some cases (like my mother's), carry the risk of later discomfort and mild strain from the use of the devices.
- They should all be extremely light, environmentally insignificant and extremely durable.
- They should all work without batteries or some other power source besides the body.
- They should be developed with the idea that their use will be permanent.
- They should be absolutely mistake-proof. In other words, there should be no way to use them incorrectly to any purpose (like, for instance, my mother's desire to use the cane and the walker as rising assists).
I have a hunch, too, considering the inventiveness of our species, that the solution is probably incredibly simple and can be cost effective to produce. So, is anyone out there up to the challenge?
Thursday, October 27, 2005
First, thank you, Kidneygurl, for the birthday wish!
I smiled at the "spa day" suggestion. Oddly, this is something both my mother and I would love. It's probably out of the question for my birthday, as time is a little tight, but, you know, I'm thinking that this might not be completely out of her jurisdiction, especially if I could find one in The Valley during the winter that takes kindly to Ancient patrons. I'm thinking, this might be something I could arrange for just after the new year. Thank you for suggesting it, Kidneygurl! Hearing from you again reminded me that I never responded properly to your comment on my "bug up the ass" essay some weeks ago. I have to tell you, I much appreciated your "right on" comment. You might be interested to know that a few days after you commented, a friend of mine read it and immediately called me to tell me that I was being "unfair". Slipping ecstatically into post-menopausal liberation as I am, I just laughed. She's never been a caregiver for the health challenged, whether Ancient or not. She'll get it. Hopefully, one day, we'll all get it.
I discovered something interesting on the Cane Front today from a discussion about the issue with our home health supplier through whom we get our oxygen. It seems that, although Medicare will fund one if they it's prescribed, the fellow I talked to said using the benefit for a cane wasn't wise for the following reason: Of the three devices covered by this Medicare benefit, canes are not rented, they are bought outright. When a cane is bought through Medicare it freezes the benefit for five years. Considering that a single shaft cane can be purchased for around $25 and a claw cane (the type that would work best for my mother) costs around $50, it would be silly to freeze the benefit on behalf of a cane when, considering my mother's age, there is a good possibility that at some time between now and her death we may want to use the benefit to provide a more sophisticated wheel chair or a different style of walker than the ones we have. Freezing the benefit for five years, in my mother's case, may very well freeze it for the rest of her life. So, tomorrow we're going to go cane hunting and purchase one outright. I'm familiar with a couple of places that sell them so I'm sure we'll be able to get a good deal. I'm going to focus on places that will adjust the cane, be willing to replace it for free if it's defective, has a reasonable maintenance policy and provides some instruction on usage. At the same time I'm going to check on the availability of oxygen fanny packs and whether I need her PCP to rewrite her oxygen prescription to include these. If she is at all facile with the cane she may very well want to use it outside as well as inside our home, in which case the fanny pack oxygen would come in handy. I can't even imagine how difficult it would be for both her and me were it necessary for me to cart her oxygen around while she was caning through a shopping trip.
Today, during one of the times when I was replacing and readjusting her elastic knee brace, Mom mentioned, "I'll probably have to wear this for the rest of my life, won't I."
"You know, Mom, it wouldn't surprise me if you'll have to use it most of the time, especially when we're out, for the rest of your life. I think, probably, every day there will be periods when you're not moving much and you're sitting in your rocker when you can take it off but it's so much easier for you, even moving around the house, when you have it on that, yeah, it's probably a pretty permanent thing."
We both sat and contemplated the brace on her knee for a few moments.
"You're not getting any younger, you know, Mom," I said.
She flashed me a comic sneer and said, "Well thank goodness for that!"
We both laughed. It is this spirit in her that I not only love but regularly marvel at. Even at her age, with her aches and pains, her phasing and its attendant confusion and her occasional admonitions to me to "never get old", when she's experiencing the worst that Ancienthood has to offer her she continues to cherish the advantages of aging in the same way someone in their middle years does. She has absolutely no desire to go backward in time.
You just gotta love a woman like that.
This afternoon for no reason I can think of it suddenly hit me how much I'm going to miss her after she dies. I'd never before thought of it. Up to that moment, every time I've thought of my life after her death I've thought about it in terms of how I'll survive, what hopes, wishes and dreams I might consider fulfilling, etc. Today I realized that she and I have become such a crucial part of each other's lives that the absence of the necessity for all the observational and caring routines I've constructed around her presence will make it seem, initially, I think, as though I'm standing in the middle of a deep, dark hole. I was blown away by this realization. Curiously, instead of causing me to cringe at the possibility of her death, realizing this created, instead, a hunger in me to redouble my efforts to enjoy the hell out of her while she's alive, a sort of minor epiphany, I guess. Not that I hadn't previously considered that this is The Way To Do It, but, you know, I flashed back on all the times when I've felt overwhelmed by the lack of Me Time and suddenly realized there will again come a time when I'll have all the Me Time I can handle. Best not to waste this opportunity to appreciate and participate intimately in Her Time.
I remember her telling me, after my father died, that, more than anything she felt relief at his passing. I know this is not an uncommon feeling when someone for whom you've been intensely caring and who has had critical and extremely uncomfortable health problems for a long time is released from their agony (which my father was experiencing prior to his death) and you're released from the helplessness of caring for someone in such a state. Although I have no way of knowing if my mother will suffer such agony before her death or simply check out with no baggage, somehow I think that, for me, because of the long journey I will have taken with her, that, even if a certain amount of relief is involved, my overwhelming reaction will be temporary bewilderment at her definitive absence.
She continues, by the way, in ruddy, energetic (for her) good health. Early this evening when she laid down for her nap she asked me to awaken her in an hour.
"I'll do that if you want," I said, "but you've been doing really well, lately, lots of moving around. If you decide to catch a little more sleep time, I think it'll be okay."
"No, I don't want to miss anything," she said.
She did, in fact, come to immediately when I awoke her exactly an hour later. "I'm ready for the evening, now," she said.
"We don't have anything spectacular planned, Mom, just dinner, trimming your nails and maybe some hot games of Sorry."
"That's enough," she said.
Tonight she spoke of my father as though I hadn't known him as my father but only as her husband. We were watching some minor program on television and one of the actors pronounced the word "either" with an initial long "i" sound: "Eye-ther".
"[Her husband] heard that pronounciation once on TV, picked it up and nearly drove me crazy pronouncing it like that from them on."
Since Mom also has a grandson who's named after my father I wasn't immediately sure who she was talking about. "You mean your husband?" I asked.
She looked at me as though I was losing my mind. "Of course. I know you've met him."
"I dare say I have, Mom," I said, chuckling, "considering that he fathered me."
She did a double take. I watched her expression kaleidoscope as she silently reoriented herself regarding who I was and how she and I were related. Finally she said, "Oh, yes, that's right. You're mine."
I continued the discussion, recalling for her the time, decades ago, when all of us were gathered at a table at our temporary home in Spearfish one evening while my father read to us descriptions of Guam, to which we were shortly to relocate. My father had spent even more years previous meticulously divesting himself of his thick North Carolina accent but there were a few dialetical idiosyncracies he never dropped: One was pronouncing "can't" as "cain't". Throughout his oral presentation I continually interrupted him, wanting to ask him a question. He put me off until, finally, in a frustrated attempt to silence me, he asked me what I wanted.
"Why do you say 'cain't', Dad?"
Mom and I both laughed recalling his exasperated, silent reaction and talked for several minutes about his life-long battle to keep from being recognized as a Poor White Trash Southerner.
Throughout the entire discussion my mother's words of recognition to me, "You're mine," echoed through my head. When we finished with Dad and sat back satisfied with this particular memory, I couldn't help but smile broadly and think, "Yes, Mom, I'm yours. How lucky I am."
Mom noticed me smiling and said, "You really enjoyed catching him on that, didn't you?"
"Well, yes, but not just that..." I reached out and patted her arm.
She put her hand on mine and said, looking simultaneously far away and close up, "I know what you mean..."
We had a very good night tonight. I think its aura will enhance the rest of our days together. How truly lucky I am.
Later.
I discovered something interesting on the Cane Front today from a discussion about the issue with our home health supplier through whom we get our oxygen. It seems that, although Medicare will fund one if they it's prescribed, the fellow I talked to said using the benefit for a cane wasn't wise for the following reason: Of the three devices covered by this Medicare benefit, canes are not rented, they are bought outright. When a cane is bought through Medicare it freezes the benefit for five years. Considering that a single shaft cane can be purchased for around $25 and a claw cane (the type that would work best for my mother) costs around $50, it would be silly to freeze the benefit on behalf of a cane when, considering my mother's age, there is a good possibility that at some time between now and her death we may want to use the benefit to provide a more sophisticated wheel chair or a different style of walker than the ones we have. Freezing the benefit for five years, in my mother's case, may very well freeze it for the rest of her life. So, tomorrow we're going to go cane hunting and purchase one outright. I'm familiar with a couple of places that sell them so I'm sure we'll be able to get a good deal. I'm going to focus on places that will adjust the cane, be willing to replace it for free if it's defective, has a reasonable maintenance policy and provides some instruction on usage. At the same time I'm going to check on the availability of oxygen fanny packs and whether I need her PCP to rewrite her oxygen prescription to include these. If she is at all facile with the cane she may very well want to use it outside as well as inside our home, in which case the fanny pack oxygen would come in handy. I can't even imagine how difficult it would be for both her and me were it necessary for me to cart her oxygen around while she was caning through a shopping trip.
Today, during one of the times when I was replacing and readjusting her elastic knee brace, Mom mentioned, "I'll probably have to wear this for the rest of my life, won't I."
"You know, Mom, it wouldn't surprise me if you'll have to use it most of the time, especially when we're out, for the rest of your life. I think, probably, every day there will be periods when you're not moving much and you're sitting in your rocker when you can take it off but it's so much easier for you, even moving around the house, when you have it on that, yeah, it's probably a pretty permanent thing."
We both sat and contemplated the brace on her knee for a few moments.
"You're not getting any younger, you know, Mom," I said.
She flashed me a comic sneer and said, "Well thank goodness for that!"
We both laughed. It is this spirit in her that I not only love but regularly marvel at. Even at her age, with her aches and pains, her phasing and its attendant confusion and her occasional admonitions to me to "never get old", when she's experiencing the worst that Ancienthood has to offer her she continues to cherish the advantages of aging in the same way someone in their middle years does. She has absolutely no desire to go backward in time.
You just gotta love a woman like that.
This afternoon for no reason I can think of it suddenly hit me how much I'm going to miss her after she dies. I'd never before thought of it. Up to that moment, every time I've thought of my life after her death I've thought about it in terms of how I'll survive, what hopes, wishes and dreams I might consider fulfilling, etc. Today I realized that she and I have become such a crucial part of each other's lives that the absence of the necessity for all the observational and caring routines I've constructed around her presence will make it seem, initially, I think, as though I'm standing in the middle of a deep, dark hole. I was blown away by this realization. Curiously, instead of causing me to cringe at the possibility of her death, realizing this created, instead, a hunger in me to redouble my efforts to enjoy the hell out of her while she's alive, a sort of minor epiphany, I guess. Not that I hadn't previously considered that this is The Way To Do It, but, you know, I flashed back on all the times when I've felt overwhelmed by the lack of Me Time and suddenly realized there will again come a time when I'll have all the Me Time I can handle. Best not to waste this opportunity to appreciate and participate intimately in Her Time.
I remember her telling me, after my father died, that, more than anything she felt relief at his passing. I know this is not an uncommon feeling when someone for whom you've been intensely caring and who has had critical and extremely uncomfortable health problems for a long time is released from their agony (which my father was experiencing prior to his death) and you're released from the helplessness of caring for someone in such a state. Although I have no way of knowing if my mother will suffer such agony before her death or simply check out with no baggage, somehow I think that, for me, because of the long journey I will have taken with her, that, even if a certain amount of relief is involved, my overwhelming reaction will be temporary bewilderment at her definitive absence.
She continues, by the way, in ruddy, energetic (for her) good health. Early this evening when she laid down for her nap she asked me to awaken her in an hour.
"I'll do that if you want," I said, "but you've been doing really well, lately, lots of moving around. If you decide to catch a little more sleep time, I think it'll be okay."
"No, I don't want to miss anything," she said.
She did, in fact, come to immediately when I awoke her exactly an hour later. "I'm ready for the evening, now," she said.
"We don't have anything spectacular planned, Mom, just dinner, trimming your nails and maybe some hot games of Sorry."
"That's enough," she said.
Tonight she spoke of my father as though I hadn't known him as my father but only as her husband. We were watching some minor program on television and one of the actors pronounced the word "either" with an initial long "i" sound: "Eye-ther".
"[Her husband] heard that pronounciation once on TV, picked it up and nearly drove me crazy pronouncing it like that from them on."
Since Mom also has a grandson who's named after my father I wasn't immediately sure who she was talking about. "You mean your husband?" I asked.
She looked at me as though I was losing my mind. "Of course. I know you've met him."
"I dare say I have, Mom," I said, chuckling, "considering that he fathered me."
She did a double take. I watched her expression kaleidoscope as she silently reoriented herself regarding who I was and how she and I were related. Finally she said, "Oh, yes, that's right. You're mine."
I continued the discussion, recalling for her the time, decades ago, when all of us were gathered at a table at our temporary home in Spearfish one evening while my father read to us descriptions of Guam, to which we were shortly to relocate. My father had spent even more years previous meticulously divesting himself of his thick North Carolina accent but there were a few dialetical idiosyncracies he never dropped: One was pronouncing "can't" as "cain't". Throughout his oral presentation I continually interrupted him, wanting to ask him a question. He put me off until, finally, in a frustrated attempt to silence me, he asked me what I wanted.
"Why do you say 'cain't', Dad?"
Mom and I both laughed recalling his exasperated, silent reaction and talked for several minutes about his life-long battle to keep from being recognized as a Poor White Trash Southerner.
Throughout the entire discussion my mother's words of recognition to me, "You're mine," echoed through my head. When we finished with Dad and sat back satisfied with this particular memory, I couldn't help but smile broadly and think, "Yes, Mom, I'm yours. How lucky I am."
Mom noticed me smiling and said, "You really enjoyed catching him on that, didn't you?"
"Well, yes, but not just that..." I reached out and patted her arm.
She put her hand on mine and said, looking simultaneously far away and close up, "I know what you mean..."
We had a very good night tonight. I think its aura will enhance the rest of our days together. How truly lucky I am.
Later.
I continue to run a half to a whole day behind...
...on statting but I'm getting everything in without having to search my memory for what we ate for dinner three nights ago.
Last night's dinner stat review also includes a run down of our evening which included yet another trip involving both getting out and walkering. I'm so surprised, and pleased, that the activity in which I thought she'd indulge during the summer is happening now. She's, as usual, taking well to walkering, now that she's doing it every day. I make sure, too, that she wears the elastic knee brace all the time, now.
Something I want to mention regarding elastic knee braces. I discovered that the size that is supposed to fit her, "Medium", is too tight for her. It irritates her skin and is too small to put over her pants in order to keep her skin from being irritated; I'm assuming this is more true for the elderly than those not yet elderly. As well, when she was using the "Medium" brace her right foot swelled a little more than I'd like every time, which means it was restricting fluid flow throughout her body from her extremeties. So, we use the "Large" (there is also an "X-tra large", which is much too big). When fitted over her pants over her knee, it provides exactly the right amount of support and neither irritates her skin nor promotes foot swelling. The funny thing is, her knee measurement comes in right in the middle of the "Medium" measurement but for her this wasn't adequate. If you're dealing with an Ancient One who needs elastic extremity support and you're having trouble with sizes, try to find braces that come in at least four sizes and try the size larger than the one indicated by measurement. As well, putting it over clothes sometimes works better than placing it brace-on-skin.
All arrangements that need to be made for our trip to The Valley next Tuesday have been made. I've decided to try this trip without renting a hotel room for the following reasons:
I love these "health honeymoon" periods she experiences. I hope I can keep this one going as long as possible, at least through the holidays. At my mother's suggestion, we're going to be doing some holiday baking experimentation this week and weekend before the trip. She wants to be able to present MCF's family with a holiday treat tray when we visit. Although she doesn't directly "help" when I cook and bake, now, she loves to supervise, especially when it involves sugar.
Except for minor errands that apply only to me, like having my hair trimmed, which I did early this morning, I'll be taking her on all necessary errands from here on out, too, without giving her a choice (unless she is clearly under the weather on a particular day). This should help keep her going, as well, and she seems to be able to take it right now. As well, if we're able to procure an Rx for a cane this will probably involve some visits from the Assistance Device company to determine which model would suit her, probably some adjustments and hopefully a session during which she (and I) will be educated in how to use the cane to her best advantage. This will perk her up. She always enjoys the attention these appointments allow.
I attempted to rouse her a little over an hour ago and she wasn't having any. That's fine. She was up late last night: We both got hooked on a couple of programs on PBS that lasted until midnight. After that, I noticed that her light didn't go out until 0030. So, I'll let her sleep in while her muscles reconnoiter from yesterday evening's activity.
I'm doing pretty well. I had a short, mysterious "Ohmygod, I can't seem to find any time for myself right now and I need it" period, yesterday afternoon but it dissipated quickly and I was more than rewarded by the very successful evening trip Mom and I had and the extra energy it catalyzed in her. Well, maybe not so mysterious: My birthday is Monday and, once again, I'm feeling particularly uncelebrated. I'm still debating whether I'm going to even remind Mom of my birthday and/or suggest that we go out to eat; I'm again feeling pretty much the same way I felt last year about celebrating by going out. We'll see. In any event, it looks like I can get in a little self time today.
In case you're wondering about the much spoken of index, it's been almost two weeks since I've had the time to get back to finishing off the cataloguing process. I'm hoping to pick up on that soon.
Whoa. The Mom's up.
Later.
Last night's dinner stat review also includes a run down of our evening which included yet another trip involving both getting out and walkering. I'm so surprised, and pleased, that the activity in which I thought she'd indulge during the summer is happening now. She's, as usual, taking well to walkering, now that she's doing it every day. I make sure, too, that she wears the elastic knee brace all the time, now.
Something I want to mention regarding elastic knee braces. I discovered that the size that is supposed to fit her, "Medium", is too tight for her. It irritates her skin and is too small to put over her pants in order to keep her skin from being irritated; I'm assuming this is more true for the elderly than those not yet elderly. As well, when she was using the "Medium" brace her right foot swelled a little more than I'd like every time, which means it was restricting fluid flow throughout her body from her extremeties. So, we use the "Large" (there is also an "X-tra large", which is much too big). When fitted over her pants over her knee, it provides exactly the right amount of support and neither irritates her skin nor promotes foot swelling. The funny thing is, her knee measurement comes in right in the middle of the "Medium" measurement but for her this wasn't adequate. If you're dealing with an Ancient One who needs elastic extremity support and you're having trouble with sizes, try to find braces that come in at least four sizes and try the size larger than the one indicated by measurement. As well, putting it over clothes sometimes works better than placing it brace-on-skin.
All arrangements that need to be made for our trip to The Valley next Tuesday have been made. I've decided to try this trip without renting a hotel room for the following reasons:
- Because her appointment is set for 1400, we'll be leaving a little later than usual. Thus, I'm planning that we'll simply stop for lunch (and a bathroom break) immediately upon arriving in the Valley. As well, she and I both are interested in visiting Ulta. There's a shampoo I use that can't be ordered from their internet site on which I need to stock up and Mom always likes to peruse their Christmas displays. We'll probably purchase one of their super-duper manicure kits for her, too, since she eyed those the last time we were in The Valley but didn't think she "needed" it at that time. Since then, a couple of her manicure tools have broken so I've insisted that she does, now, "need" a new manicure kit and we may as well get the one she likes.
- By the time we're finished with the above, it'll be about time for her appointment. She'll be able to refresh herself at the doctor's office and routine doctor's appointments with this PCP always energize her, primarily because this PCP is so respectful of her.
- The last time we performed this doctor's routine followed with plans to visit MCF after the appointment (which we'll be doing next Tuesday), she was completely uninterested in taking a nap at the hotel. In fact, she didn't take a nap all day; she was primed for all aspects of tripping. So, I figure, we'll just go directly to MCF's from the doctor's office and spend the evening in excellent company. I'll bring along a plastic sheet if she decides to nap but she I doubt we'll use them.
I love these "health honeymoon" periods she experiences. I hope I can keep this one going as long as possible, at least through the holidays. At my mother's suggestion, we're going to be doing some holiday baking experimentation this week and weekend before the trip. She wants to be able to present MCF's family with a holiday treat tray when we visit. Although she doesn't directly "help" when I cook and bake, now, she loves to supervise, especially when it involves sugar.
Except for minor errands that apply only to me, like having my hair trimmed, which I did early this morning, I'll be taking her on all necessary errands from here on out, too, without giving her a choice (unless she is clearly under the weather on a particular day). This should help keep her going, as well, and she seems to be able to take it right now. As well, if we're able to procure an Rx for a cane this will probably involve some visits from the Assistance Device company to determine which model would suit her, probably some adjustments and hopefully a session during which she (and I) will be educated in how to use the cane to her best advantage. This will perk her up. She always enjoys the attention these appointments allow.
I attempted to rouse her a little over an hour ago and she wasn't having any. That's fine. She was up late last night: We both got hooked on a couple of programs on PBS that lasted until midnight. After that, I noticed that her light didn't go out until 0030. So, I'll let her sleep in while her muscles reconnoiter from yesterday evening's activity.
I'm doing pretty well. I had a short, mysterious "Ohmygod, I can't seem to find any time for myself right now and I need it" period, yesterday afternoon but it dissipated quickly and I was more than rewarded by the very successful evening trip Mom and I had and the extra energy it catalyzed in her. Well, maybe not so mysterious: My birthday is Monday and, once again, I'm feeling particularly uncelebrated. I'm still debating whether I'm going to even remind Mom of my birthday and/or suggest that we go out to eat; I'm again feeling pretty much the same way I felt last year about celebrating by going out. We'll see. In any event, it looks like I can get in a little self time today.
In case you're wondering about the much spoken of index, it's been almost two weeks since I've had the time to get back to finishing off the cataloguing process. I'm hoping to pick up on that soon.
Whoa. The Mom's up.
Later.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Mom's Health Review: 8/30/05 - 10/24/05
Blood Pressure:
Dynamic within the last month. As the chart indicates she has frequently received three 2.5 mg lisinopril tablets a day; occasionally four. I'm thinking it might be time to rewrite her Rx to: Three to four 2.5 mg tablets a day. I don't think she's ready for for a constant 10 mg per day but starting today I'm going to try her for a week on a constant three per day and see if this evens her out. It is primarily her systolic pressure that's been dynamic, so much so now that I can no longer predict on any given day if it's going to be high or low, nor can I attribute highs to anything in particular.
Blood Sugar:
Very good control.
Urinary Issues:
Incontinence continues but not as prodigious as previously. In the last two months she's had a couple of nights of no leakage through her paper underwear and has not leaked through her paper underwear during the day at all. Macrodantin is keeping her UTI free.
Hydration:
Not sure why, but we seem to be doing better with this: Not too little, not too much.
Energy Level:
The perking up I expected in the summer is happening now, to my surprise. Although she continues to sleep 12-14 hours a day, she is more active than she has been for awhile.
Skin & Circulation:
Both appear to be excellent.
Appetite and Diet:
Both remain excellent. No changes.
Dementia:
Remains unchanged.
Will & Spirit:
Remain strong and high, respectively.
Medication & Supplements:
See Blood Pressure for report on lisinopril. She is now taking 1.5 tsps Benefiber® daily. No other changes. Within the last three weeks I've administered 200 mg ibuprofen to her twice in order to alleviate muscle aches from accelerated movement. It seems to work better on her than acetaminophen for muscle aches and since she's on the Protonix I figure, infrequently and at minimum dose, it's better for her than acetaminophen because acetaminophen tends to elevate her blood pressure.
CHF:
I've only had to administer furosemide once in the last two months. I've reinstated nightly foot and leg rubs, which seems to help, although, as noted above, her blood pressure's been shooting all over the map lately, especially her systolic readings.
COPD:
Remains a non-smoker (Yay!). Her oxygen usage has dropped a bit during the day when she's sitting; if she's not mouth breathing I don't hook her up to it. When moving outside she's on 2-3/lpm pulse, mostly; I switch her to continuous if she starts mouth breathing. At night she's on 2/lpm continuous. When doing exercises I continuouson 2/lpm continous.
Bowel Movements:
No constipation or diarrhea this period. Continues to eliminate every 24-72 hrs; usually every 48 hrs. Fecal consistency, volume and ease of elimination remain excellent.
ADDITIONAL NOTES:
Dynamic within the last month. As the chart indicates she has frequently received three 2.5 mg lisinopril tablets a day; occasionally four. I'm thinking it might be time to rewrite her Rx to: Three to four 2.5 mg tablets a day. I don't think she's ready for for a constant 10 mg per day but starting today I'm going to try her for a week on a constant three per day and see if this evens her out. It is primarily her systolic pressure that's been dynamic, so much so now that I can no longer predict on any given day if it's going to be high or low, nor can I attribute highs to anything in particular.
Blood Sugar:
Very good control.
Urinary Issues:
Incontinence continues but not as prodigious as previously. In the last two months she's had a couple of nights of no leakage through her paper underwear and has not leaked through her paper underwear during the day at all. Macrodantin is keeping her UTI free.
Hydration:
Not sure why, but we seem to be doing better with this: Not too little, not too much.
Energy Level:
The perking up I expected in the summer is happening now, to my surprise. Although she continues to sleep 12-14 hours a day, she is more active than she has been for awhile.
Skin & Circulation:
Both appear to be excellent.
Appetite and Diet:
Both remain excellent. No changes.
Dementia:
Remains unchanged.
Will & Spirit:
Remain strong and high, respectively.
Medication & Supplements:
See Blood Pressure for report on lisinopril. She is now taking 1.5 tsps Benefiber® daily. No other changes. Within the last three weeks I've administered 200 mg ibuprofen to her twice in order to alleviate muscle aches from accelerated movement. It seems to work better on her than acetaminophen for muscle aches and since she's on the Protonix I figure, infrequently and at minimum dose, it's better for her than acetaminophen because acetaminophen tends to elevate her blood pressure.
CHF:
I've only had to administer furosemide once in the last two months. I've reinstated nightly foot and leg rubs, which seems to help, although, as noted above, her blood pressure's been shooting all over the map lately, especially her systolic readings.
COPD:
Remains a non-smoker (Yay!). Her oxygen usage has dropped a bit during the day when she's sitting; if she's not mouth breathing I don't hook her up to it. When moving outside she's on 2-3/lpm pulse, mostly; I switch her to continuous if she starts mouth breathing. At night she's on 2/lpm continuous. When doing exercises I continuouson 2/lpm continous.
Bowel Movements:
No constipation or diarrhea this period. Continues to eliminate every 24-72 hrs; usually every 48 hrs. Fecal consistency, volume and ease of elimination remain excellent.
ADDITIONAL NOTES:
- Nice labs this month, especially her hemoglobin!
- I keep forgetting to mention: Her marginally low SGPT from her CMP of 7/26/05 is probably due to the 12 oz. cup of detox tea a day to support her kidney and liver functions. One of the primary ingredients is licorice root which is apparently famous for lowering SGPT.
- The advisability of rewriting her lisinopril Rx for three to four 2.5 mg tabs per day.
- It might be time to prescribe a cane to help her get around the house. Both her walker and her companion wheel chair were gifts from friends who died so Medicare/TriCare isn't yet being used for assistance devices. She does well with the walker outside but our house is small and narrow and has a few steps into and out of the living room. She's getting to the place where she could use some assistance walking around the house, especially on days when she is primarily immobile. She is not, by the way, in favor of the idea but little by little she is less sure of herself on her feet, primarily on her right side, which is the side affected by the years' ago mini-stroke.
- She needs a flu shot. She had a pneumonia shot in 2000. I'm not sure if it's time for another one, yet. Also, either this appointment or next I'd like her to receive a tetnus shot because our yard is pretty wild and the possibility of puncture wounds if she falls is high.
- Any issues of concern to you.
I'm done with all the reporting...
...it's been faxed to her doctor and I am pleased to announce that my first faxing on our relatively new fax/printer went without a hitch. It's nice not to have to traipse to Staples to do my regular faxing. I'll be posting her current health review shortly.
Despite her arising in the peak (for her) of "vim, vigor and vitality" (one of her favorite phrases), as bathing and breakfast drew out she began to notice an ache here, a twinge there, surprising stiffness elsewhere. No wonder, considering all the movement she's accomplished in the last few days. Although during breakfast she was still up for a trip to continue searching out cookie cutters, by the time she'd finished her detox tea she'd decided she'd rather not go anyplace today. By 1520 she opted for a nap. I didn't fight her. Often, when she retires for a nap this early after a late rising, she doesn't sleep soundly, she dozes and then is up in an hour or less. I just checked in on her a few minutes ago, though, and she's laid out as though for her own wake: Eyes shut tight, stretched out all over the bed, face expressionless.
So, it's going to be a slow day, today. That's okay. I'm so relieved with her lab results I don't care. Because of her bouncing blood pressures and her summer lethargy I was concerned that something new was going to be way out of balance. I'd even been considering (discussed some days ago over at Mom's Daily Tests & Meds) that we might be turning a corner in her Chronic Renal Failure and leveling out on a lower plateau (the link will take you to the specific post). In line with this I was thinking that her potassium and sodium might be collecting, thus she might have high readings on either of these and her creatinine might be starting to slip out of normal range. Everything's normal, though, and there are no unusual spikes in her normally high BUN, either. I guess she just has her own slow, steady, leisurely way of being old.
Well, let me upload the current health review.
Later.
Despite her arising in the peak (for her) of "vim, vigor and vitality" (one of her favorite phrases), as bathing and breakfast drew out she began to notice an ache here, a twinge there, surprising stiffness elsewhere. No wonder, considering all the movement she's accomplished in the last few days. Although during breakfast she was still up for a trip to continue searching out cookie cutters, by the time she'd finished her detox tea she'd decided she'd rather not go anyplace today. By 1520 she opted for a nap. I didn't fight her. Often, when she retires for a nap this early after a late rising, she doesn't sleep soundly, she dozes and then is up in an hour or less. I just checked in on her a few minutes ago, though, and she's laid out as though for her own wake: Eyes shut tight, stretched out all over the bed, face expressionless.
So, it's going to be a slow day, today. That's okay. I'm so relieved with her lab results I don't care. Because of her bouncing blood pressures and her summer lethargy I was concerned that something new was going to be way out of balance. I'd even been considering (discussed some days ago over at Mom's Daily Tests & Meds) that we might be turning a corner in her Chronic Renal Failure and leveling out on a lower plateau (the link will take you to the specific post). In line with this I was thinking that her potassium and sodium might be collecting, thus she might have high readings on either of these and her creatinine might be starting to slip out of normal range. Everything's normal, though, and there are no unusual spikes in her normally high BUN, either. I guess she just has her own slow, steady, leisurely way of being old.
Well, let me upload the current health review.
Later.
Back in the Low-High Life Again.
Well, I'm ecstatic. I just uploaded her blood draw results for yesterday. They are practically a repeat of her results for 4/13/05, which was a "very good year". Aside from her hemoglobin skirting normal range for Mesa, all her other out of range CBC results are normal for Mesa. Her BMP results are also comparable. I noticed something curious, too. The last time her Fasting Blood Glucose was high in the morning for her blood draw was also 4/13/05. Don't know that this means anything, but I find it interesting.
This morning I'm compiling all those reports I normally fax to her doctor monthly. Last month I compiled them but forgot to send them. I don't think it's a problem. Little has changed except that I think her blood pressure has experienced more highs than the month previous, although I'm not sure, yet, as I'm not finished compiling that report.
I'm not sure what's on the agenda for today other than reporting to the doctor. Although Mom went to bed fairly early last night, I'm letting her sleep in because she engaged in a lot of activity yesterday and I'll bet her muscles are reorienting themselves. I just checked in on her and she's stretched out lazily on the bed, breathing deeply. She had suggested that we try out the spritz cookie press last night but just wasn't into it when "the time" arrived.
Well, back to work. Once I compile and fax the reports to the doctor I'll be publishing her health review for the last two months, here.
Later.
This morning I'm compiling all those reports I normally fax to her doctor monthly. Last month I compiled them but forgot to send them. I don't think it's a problem. Little has changed except that I think her blood pressure has experienced more highs than the month previous, although I'm not sure, yet, as I'm not finished compiling that report.
I'm not sure what's on the agenda for today other than reporting to the doctor. Although Mom went to bed fairly early last night, I'm letting her sleep in because she engaged in a lot of activity yesterday and I'll bet her muscles are reorienting themselves. I just checked in on her and she's stretched out lazily on the bed, breathing deeply. She had suggested that we try out the spritz cookie press last night but just wasn't into it when "the time" arrived.
Well, back to work. Once I compile and fax the reports to the doctor I'll be publishing her health review for the last two months, here.
Later.
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.
