I entered my mother's room. She was sleeping. At two o'clock on a Sunday afternoon. She rarely slept the afternoon, but it wasn't completely unheard of. I relaxed in her recliner to wait until she woke. An hour later she was still sleeping. So many health issues in so few weeks: three hospital visits resulting in two admissions during Christmas week. When she is admitted I stay with her around the clock, except during relief by my brothers or sister-in-law, so she won't become confused, upset and need to be sedated. When she sees me or hears my voice, she calms down. It happened every night. I asked the nurses to set the bed alarm at night because she wouldn't argue with them the way she argues with me. The main thing was keeping her calm and feeling secure.
We got through the holidays. And then she was bed fast. I met with the head nurse and physical therapist. Does the nursing home staff expect me to believe they "are doing their jobs" when I can observe the signs they are not? THEY are the ones who said the doctor talked to the nurses on the floor via the telephone to determine her condition and subsequent care, to decide if she should be transported to the hospital for the ER doctors to determine her condition, it appeared, so he wouldn't have to be troubled with earning the fees he was being paid. I am the one who said, "He's on thin ice with me. HE is the doctor and he will use his own eyes, not the nurses' eyes to take care of her or I'll replace him." (I can do this because I hold the health care power-of-attorney and I won't hesitate to do what I believe is in my mother's best interests.
To get a call about orders for a salve to heal the rash in Mom's abdominal fold was disturbing. If they are bathing and powdering her abdominal fold daily there probably isn't going to be a rash there. I don't expect perfection from them. And I'm trying very hard to be reasonable. However, this is my mother...the woman who sacrificed everything to make sure we all had what we NEEDED...the woman who worked hard every day of her life for the good of the whole, not the part.
It occurs to me that maybe I need to become a nursing home patient advocate when my mother is no longer in need of me...when she has crossed beyond the grave to the loved ones who are waiting to welcome her home. Yes, I believe this. It comforts me to know she will be whole again when she makes that journey. Yet, not having her where I am will sorely hurt.
I visited her Saturday. She was in bed, her feet up, now healing, her crochet work in her hands. I sat in her recliner, feet up, researching with my netbook for something I was writing. We didn't talk a lot. When we talk, we speak of the same things over and over again as if it was the first time every time. We were content just being together. I said so. She agreed.
The winter has been long and troublesome. I feel drained to almost empty. I am saddened to think I offended Nancy on Saturday. She and her husband were inside McDonald's. I was in my car in the drive-thru. I wasn't 100 percent sure it was her. I didn't wave. I didn't mean to snub her at all. I am so drained I feel like I'm on 10-second delay. Please, God, don't let it be Alzheimer's. My memory is fine. I just have the slows!
The pace is rising. I have more responsibilities and obligations. I began today to babysit my 3-year-old granddaughter while her mother attends college classes. I want to do this because education is extremely important, and my parents helped me with my children so I could pursue my dreams, too. I have to visit Mom frequently to make sure she's getting the right care, consistently. I have my publicity job for Family Recovery Center that requires time each week. My house needs a thorough cleaning but with the recent changes (two college students are living with us again) I'm not sure where to start. Work schedules, school schedules, my schedule and mealtimes are challenging...and for me to be worth anything I need seven or eight hours of sleep at night, uninterrupted.
Why do I feel the need to share all of this? Because I don't want anyone to think I'm a spoiled, selfish, self-centered, worthless slug! It seems, right now, like the only one who recognizes this is my mother, the woman with an Alzheimered mind. Oh, Hummingbird, please, please, please, don't fly away!
Yet, minute by minute you are.
(c) 2010 Cathy Thomas Brownfield
All rights reserved -- Contact author for permission of use.
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