At least compared to last weekend.
We navigated death and jury duty, and this was my weekend to be with mom. In the meantime my sister wants to investigate whether mom would qualify for a lower level of care. If it doesn't include nightly monitoring I am definitely not down. It's the only thing that keeps me from having to spend time there, and I am already spending a few hours every day plus the weekends.
In order to navigate memory care, you need to be curious and open. What are the good parts of it? Where are the stories? Every person there came from somewhere, is loved by others. The residents have problems. Our person has problems. You -- judgy person -- have problems.
Saturday started with a cluster. My sister wanted to talk to mom but she didn't have her hearing aids in. Mom needs q-tips before hearing aids. Q-tips are in a cabinet in the bathroom that is locked so she doesn't drink her lotion during the night. Find a PAL to open it, put on the clothes that the PAL did not put on my mom earlier (bra, r-shirt). Oh! Mom unplugged everything during the night, so the phone isn't working. Call mrguy for technical advice on the phone. Get phone working again. Help mom and sister have phone call. Discuss why I feel it's too soon to talk about moving mom to a different level of care. My sister just wants to know that this is our only option.
Also, all of the Tongan ladies are talking about my mom and how they feel sorry for her because she cries when our caregiver is not with her. This is not helping, because our caregiver is such a lioness when it comes to my mom (which is what you want) but she is not patient. Nobody is, apparently.
I brought mom to our house and mrguy ate lunch with us, which is what she wanted. She wants the company of men (but has stopped harping about her imaginary boyfriend). Then I put her to work. This turned out to be a good idea. I let her prune plants in the aku room, and that enabled her to do what she does well, plus look out the window at the view that she loves.
I had no plan b, so I asked her if she wanted to help me clean up the plants on the porch. She said "Yes, let's do some work." So I pulled a chair up to the pots and she got going. I knew that this might be a bit of a bloodbath for the plants, but if it makes my queen happy, the world is good. In the end she did a great, if choppy job. But we almost had it out when she wanted to prune three little branches in one of the pots. I do not want them pruned, because they have buds and are about to flower. "If we take those branches off it will look more balanced," she said lucidly as she often does when she talks about flower arranging and pruning. Go figure. I got my wish, but my saying no was at risk of a meltdown.
We got back to her place in time for dinner and sat with some folks we've met before. There's E, whose husband lives in a different part of the building. She doesn't really talk. Then we were joined by J, who talks too much. And one of the many Ds, who lives across from my mom. He's handsome, and dressed for dinner, with a suit jacket and sweater, his hair neatly combed. If you could ignore the thick coat of dandruff over everything, he's pretty handsome. I want my mom to fall in love with him.
I like to sit with my mom at dinner and figure out what's happening in memory care world. I am still trying to formulate a plan for mom engaging with others. Across the table, I saw something remarkable. E and J locked eyes. I felt like they were doing an imaginary battle, like the bathroom scene in China Ghost II. Pretty soon they'd be floating in the air and doing a tongue battle or something. Then somebody broke the gaze. Wild...
Back in the room we were watching Serena Williams, when there was pounding at the door. It was D. "Can you wake me up at 5 or 5:30? I need to catch the bus to (name of place) tomorrow." "I can do that, I said," and closed the door. Then he kept pounding and asking, and finally I said "D! Your room is there. Please go home!" In the hallway, MK was making her rounds (which are actually lines).
I finished the day unscathed, with no insults or psychic bruises, just fatigue.
And that, my friends, is really a good day.
No comments:
Post a Comment