Sunday morning (a little morbid)

When I used to deliver for Meals on Wheels some of the other volunteers would tell stories about how some of them had discovered elderly people who'd passed away when they brought their meals to the door.

I was afraid about it after I heard those stories - especially for the ones where I was supposed to just knock, open the door, announce myself, and bring the meals in and set them on the table for them.  Usually they were sitting up in a chair waiting for me, but once a man was not in his usual place waiting.  I ran out to tell the driver who told me that I'd better see if I could find him.  (I knew this, but I had kind of hoped the driver would come in to look with me :-)  note: we delivered in teams at our Meals on Wheels, one driver and one runner)  At any rate, the elderly man was fine.  He was just taking a nap in his bed.  He was pretty deaf without his hearing aids in, and that's why he hadn't heard me calling.  A few years later, though, that man did die.  And, now the driver who was with me that day - also elderly - has passed away.  Death is a specter that haunts us and comes to all of us.

So, from the first day Mommy came here, one week and one day ago, there has been a nagging knowledge that there's a chance - actually with the passing of time there is almost a certainly - that one day I'll open her bedroom door and she won't be there anymore.  I can't describe how this effects the psyche. (At least my psyche.  I'm a weak and weepy person.)

There is this amazing movie starring Queen Latifah where she is misdiagnosed as about to die and takes a "Last Holiday," which is the name of the film.  I like the movie very much - mostly because at the end of the day, it was a misdiagnosis and she continues to live.

There are a lot of songs, too, about living each day as if it were the last, but somehow the idea of living a day as if it is the last day has always made me sad instead of happy.  The bitter sweetness of it had a lot more bitter than sweet.

However, now that I'm actually put into a position where I do need to actually live every day as if it were her last, the sweetness of the days is starting, slowly, to overcome the bitter.

I'm starting to understand the songs and the movies.

And, as my heart softens to what is reality, it really is making every moment sweet instead of bitter.

Yesterday, when she was too weak and hurting to sit up in the morning, and I fed her oatmeal one spoon at a time in bed, sitting and waiting - for a very long time for her to swallow so I could give her the next bite became really precious. We were listening to one of the gospels on the "radio" together, I think Mark at that time, and I learned that I can't get impatient and have the spoon ready to put it into her mouth, because that makes her nervous.  Instead, I need to wait for her to swallow the bite she has, and then slowly get the next bite on the spoon so she has time to see what's happening and to prepare herself.  I'm learning to move slowly for her.   Like at the end of the "Sound of Music" when the nuns are told "Slowly, slowly" and they stop rushing around and walk slowly to the door.  (Maybe it was just one nun?  I don't remember for sure.)

When I move slowly, Mommy is much less nervous.  It probably gives her more time to process.

I'm also learning to not stress about the small stuff.  And, the most stressful of the small stuff is potty stuff. I feel a little bad sharing potty information about Mom, because I want to protect her dignity, but if anybody else, in a similar situation can find something helpful, . .  It's so hard to care for a person who has trouble moving, and this was such a help that I'm going to share it.

She is very angry at the pull-ups right now.  When we were getting ready to put a new one on yesterday, she fingered the material of it, and said: "I hate these things.  They make you know something is wrong with you."  And, in addition to reminding mom something is wrong with her, getting them up is a huge process.  She has to stand for me to pull them up, and it is hard for her to stand, and dangerous if there isn't a spotter on both sides or her.  She's on a blood thinner right now, so falling is more of a danger than it even usually is.

So, I was sitting on the edge of the bed wondering how to best stand her and get the troublesome thing pulled up.  I was praying about what to do.  I needed some idea about how to keep her clean and keep her safe from falling and protect her feelings.

Then, it occurred to me that I could just rip a pull-up along the sides and lay it on top of a plastic sided pad on the chair.  And then, if I couldn't get the thing that I already had positioned as far up her legs as I could get it pulled the rest of the way up, I could just set Mommy onto the one that was on the chair.

When she was ready to get off the commode, I used the transfer belt to stand her and pivot her into the recliner.  If she understood to put her arms around my neck, I could, at that time, pull the underthings up, but she doesn't understand and tries to grab and hang on to the arm of the commode or the arm of the recliner or whatever else she can reach.

So, instead of worrying about pulling that thing up, I just was able to swing her around into the recliner.  It worked really well, and later when it was time for her to go to dinner with us in the kitchen, getting her into the wheelchair would have been very easy using the same method.  However, since Amanda was home, we together got her into the normal underthings.  It's better to have the thing pulled up, but if there isn't anybody here, it is possible to get by, and keep her comfortable and clean, without having to do that.

Last night, she ate split pea soup. (I must be an exceptional cook - lol - to make that often nasty stuff yummy enough for someone who doesn't have to be polite to eat it :-) )  Stephan requested it for its health benefits, and David likes it because it has such a high protein content per serving.

I am also learning to use my words wisely.  As the clock approached 11:00 when we were all about ready for bed, instead of saying to Mom that it was bedtime, I said that the kitchen was getting chilly and I wanted to sit with her in her warm bedroom.  Then she was content to get wheeled away from what seemed like the place where the action was happening.

Well, I thought about deleting this post - because it is mostly about me instead of about mom, but I'm going to go ahead and post it anyway.   I told you all to skip the boring parts :-)