I'm back at Mom's, and during the night she said these three things:
"Tough, isn't it, mister?"
"I didn't have anything important to say."
"Why am I so thirsty?"
When I told her what she'd said in her sleep she really cracked up.
"We should really start recording these things. You don't need any company when you have yourself!"
There you are.
April 26, 2015
April 18, 2015
Operation Maternal Ablutions
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.
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.
March 21, 2015
You won item Pair Of Life-Size Figural Garden Sculptures Of Antelope
Best subject line, ever.
I have missed you, my blog, but I've been busy with my mama. I keep thinking of finishing up my Europe blog before embarking on this new chapter of life, but that might be a pipe dream. While mama's sleeping in the hospital bed nearby, I'll catch this up.
The grand mammoo has had a tough six months. After our family vacation at the big round river, her cognitive state began to shift. After some anaesthesia required by an endoscopy and a cataract operation, it declined further and it became clear that she couldn't be left alone.
We siblings came to this realization in various stages, as different people do. We took turns hosting her at our houses or coming over to hers to stay. While she was with me I made her check out retirement communities with me, and go to physical therapy. We moved the needle really far that week. The sibs have been moving it further since then.
After the week with me we decided to see whether she could be at home for a week by herself. She hadn't been on her own since the first of the year. She lasted precisely a day and a half before she went rogue. Got her calendar messed up, cancelled all of the pt appointments. Wasn't really tracking well. So my bro came down to be with her.
We've been trying to prevent her from falling, because she fell twice in December and because she has a steep set of stairs to the bedroom. Basically, her house is a death trap for an 87-year-old woman with poor balance and muscle tone. We'd talked about pt for a year. Most recently I reminded her that pt would give her strength, a better sense of balance, and help her be independent for longer. Failing to go to pt might mean that she'd end up moving to a retirement community that she doesn't like as well as the one we've picked out for her.
You can imagine what happened next. While sitting in the kitchen with my brother, sister-in-law and nephew, she bent down to pick up a piece of paper. Fell out of the chair, landed on her hip and broke it. The femur, actually. So ironic. We were trying to protect her.
So here I sit at the hospital, bidding on antelope sculptures live online with Mom, while my sisters check out physical rehab facilities that she can hopefully move into on Monday or tomorrow. This shit happens quickly. Our bro, who has to have his spleen removed, went back home. I ducked out to have my chronic cough looked at yesterday (gastric reflux) and we're not sure exactly what happens next.
Luckily, my sibs and I are operating as a good team. Lots of emails. Middlesis has finally gotten a phone from which she can text, which helps. And I paid an ungodly sum for two life-size antelope sculptures in order to dampen the pain.
Back to work.
I have missed you, my blog, but I've been busy with my mama. I keep thinking of finishing up my Europe blog before embarking on this new chapter of life, but that might be a pipe dream. While mama's sleeping in the hospital bed nearby, I'll catch this up.
The grand mammoo has had a tough six months. After our family vacation at the big round river, her cognitive state began to shift. After some anaesthesia required by an endoscopy and a cataract operation, it declined further and it became clear that she couldn't be left alone.
We siblings came to this realization in various stages, as different people do. We took turns hosting her at our houses or coming over to hers to stay. While she was with me I made her check out retirement communities with me, and go to physical therapy. We moved the needle really far that week. The sibs have been moving it further since then.
After the week with me we decided to see whether she could be at home for a week by herself. She hadn't been on her own since the first of the year. She lasted precisely a day and a half before she went rogue. Got her calendar messed up, cancelled all of the pt appointments. Wasn't really tracking well. So my bro came down to be with her.
We've been trying to prevent her from falling, because she fell twice in December and because she has a steep set of stairs to the bedroom. Basically, her house is a death trap for an 87-year-old woman with poor balance and muscle tone. We'd talked about pt for a year. Most recently I reminded her that pt would give her strength, a better sense of balance, and help her be independent for longer. Failing to go to pt might mean that she'd end up moving to a retirement community that she doesn't like as well as the one we've picked out for her.
You can imagine what happened next. While sitting in the kitchen with my brother, sister-in-law and nephew, she bent down to pick up a piece of paper. Fell out of the chair, landed on her hip and broke it. The femur, actually. So ironic. We were trying to protect her.
So here I sit at the hospital, bidding on antelope sculptures live online with Mom, while my sisters check out physical rehab facilities that she can hopefully move into on Monday or tomorrow. This shit happens quickly. Our bro, who has to have his spleen removed, went back home. I ducked out to have my chronic cough looked at yesterday (gastric reflux) and we're not sure exactly what happens next.
Luckily, my sibs and I are operating as a good team. Lots of emails. Middlesis has finally gotten a phone from which she can text, which helps. And I paid an ungodly sum for two life-size antelope sculptures in order to dampen the pain.
Back to work.
December 27, 2014
Final Celebrity Dream Of 2014?
Robert Downey Jr. was a roommate at my mom's house.
He clogged every toilet in the house and didn't deal with it.
My other roomates were really angry.
He clogged every toilet in the house and didn't deal with it.
My other roomates were really angry.
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