A month later, I sleep on the sofa in the family room. Sweet mammoo is snoozing in her hospital bed on the other side of the room.
The last month has been DENSE, insane, filled with experiences I thought I'd never have, conversations I didn't want to have, questions on deadline that we children all had differing opinions on. It's a wild ride. But some of us have had a bit of a reprieve since my Broham and sister-in-law (nurses) have volunteered to stay with the mammoo until she can bear weight on the broken leg. We broke her out of rehab and brought her home.
Now that we've seen the xrays, we know how broken she was. Her femur? Broken in two places, long-ways. Inner Trochanter? Also broken. But now that she has a titanium rod through her femur from above the knee through the ball of her hip joint, and another pin in the hip joint (and six pins holding the titanium in place) she'll never break that thing again.
The physical therapist in the rehab place said that there are real challenges when people with mild dementia have these kind of breaks with weight bearing restrictions. As they feel more like themselves, they have impulses that go unchecked. You hope that the bones mend before the decide to get up and then re-break their bones. Wow. We have two more weeks of this nail-biting part of the program.
And of course the bad part about bringing Mom home for the second half of her non weight-bearing recovery is that there is no shower or tub here. Just a half bath. How to bathe the mama? Middlesis decided that bro and sis should bring her to my house, 45 minutes away. That seemed like a weird idea. Then they decided to rent a hotel room for the day. That was also a weird idea, but it worked. I got a transfer bench from Home Depot, and put it together with help from my brother *only* for the harder screws at the very end. I was very proud of myself.
We put it and the mama and a wheelchair into the car and went to the local, sleazy HoJo. We rented a room, got her into the tub via the transfer bench, and then ablutions ensued. Mom said "I bet you never thought you'd be doing this, huh?" Which was true. But it was all quite jolly and she much appreciated it. At the end of the day, I found us Japanese food and the Broham made mama lots of bacon and things that go with bacon. Then the local baseball team won (thankthelord) and we all went to bed.
Another odd but interesting happening is the following: two days after mama broke her hip, I went to the doctor for my persistent cough. There I met a woman who was having a physical. She took a personal call in the waiting room, then turned to me and said "My 89-year-old mom broke her hip on Monday." Then I said "My 87-year-old mom broke her hip on Wednesday". Over the last few weeks of texting we have learned that we live in the same town. I went to library school and she used to sell library software. We both love cats, and both have Hashimoto's thyroiditis. Both grew up in the same part of the state. Our schools played each other in sports. We may eventually find that we don't have the big things in common, but we've found a bond with each other through our shared experiences with our moms, and it's been exceptionally nice to have someone outside the family to talk to about this.