I felt so sad this Easter.
This Holy Day is one of my favorites. I love Easter Bunnies, Easter Baskets, chocolate everything and Easter dinner with family and friends. I love hiding Easter baskets and watching as someone tries to find them. And I love hunting for my own Easter basket full of surprises. None of that happened this year.
Mom couldn't remember what Easter is. She had no idea what it meant or what we should do. All she knew was that we were possibly going to Mount St. Helens for an early dinner if the weather permitted.
Martha informed us about a week before Easter that she was invited to some friends. Just when I think things might be going well between us, she again dashes all hope by being selfish and self-centered. Did it occur to her to say no, she would rather be with her family? Nope.
So on Saturday, after Mom's hair appointment, we took a trip south to Woodland, Wash., where brightly colored tulips enhanced the blue sky of a beautiful Western Washington spring day. The flowers were all the colors of the rainbow and more. After arriving home, Martha came with an Easter basket with some chocolate candy thrown in it - at least that's what it looked like. It looked as though she thought of A basket - yes, one basket for two people - at the last minute and threw it together. As she and Mom visited, I went outside and planted part of my garden. I pulled weeds and dug it up and planted peas, pumpkin, lettuce and spinach. I was sore and ached, but it was a satisfying ache.
And on Sunday, the day dawned gray and dreary. My mood matched the weather. I could've made it more festive, but I didn't and now I feel guilty for not making it so that Mom would enjoy it more. Instead, it was a quiet day. I cooked supper and we watched some TV and then we went to bed. Not the best Easter I've had.
However, the weekend forecast looks good and my hope springs eternal that we will be able to go to Mount St. Helens and sit out on the deck of the Fireside Grill and look at the mountain that blew her top almost 31 years ago.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
What a Monday
I thought my Monday was going to be a pretty peaceful day. I was wrong,
Mom stayed up late the night before, so I really wasn't too worried when she slept past 11:30 a.m. I checked on her and she said she couldn't get out of bed and that she had almost fallen getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. I asked her if she wanted to go to the doctor and she said no, she'd be okay.
I didn't know what to do, so I called Jill, our caregiver. She said if she was there, she would have to call 911, and for me to hang up the phone with her and call, so I did. I asked for a silent response and one ambulance came about 10-15 minutes later. Two guys from Cowlitz 2 Fire & Rescue (because technically we live in the county), came in and took Mom's blood pressure, asked her questions, which she told them she was fine. The younger of the two said they should take her to Emergency, but he was not a paramedic, so I asked to wait for the paramedics. Four paramedics arrived a few minutes later, so now we had SIX men in Mom's bedroom -- bet that won't happen again! The head paramedic advised me to take Mom to her regular doctor, so they put Mom's socks and shoes on her, I got her robe and they helped her down the steps and into my car. I alerted the doctor's office that we were coming, I put Gigi in her crate (poor little girl didn't know what to think), changed my shirt and off we went to Castle Rock, about a half hour away. It had turned out to be a beautiful afternoon, bright, warm sunshine and high puffy white clouds. We got to the doctor's office and waited until they could fit us in. Dr. Emma examined Mom and found a very tender spot on her back on her upper right shoulder. She said that Mom's osteoporosis is causing her muscles to tighten. She said we should get some Tylenol and that Mom should get a light massage.
I had called Martha to tell her about Mom and when she got of school she called, so I had to talk to her. After Mom got her diagnosis, I called Martha again. She surprised me by suggesting she buy a baby monitor, which she said would be good when she stayed with Mom this summer. I also asked her to get the Tylenol for Mom and a package of Mom's disposable panties and she brought them to the house. She helped me put the baby monitor together and set it up. And she stayed while I went to get a hamburger. All this surprised me.
After Mom ate her "breakfast" and took the Tylenol, she got dressed and did the dishes. Then we both sat down in our chairs and fell sound asleep. I finally woke up about 10 p.m. and then woke Mom up and she got to bed about 11 p.m. I didn't get to sleep until around midnight.
In the middle of all this, Jill's boss called and told me that Jill doesn't want to come three days a week any longer, that she just wants to come on Wednesdays. I said I wouldn't accept that, so I don't know what to make of this. All I do know is that Mom needs a shower and her hair washed more than once a week.
The head paramedic guy said that we needed to get a ramp and I said we couldn't afford it, but Martha said to call a couple of people to see what they could do.
So that was my Monday. May that not happen again for a while. And thank you Lord, for carrying me through it.
Mom stayed up late the night before, so I really wasn't too worried when she slept past 11:30 a.m. I checked on her and she said she couldn't get out of bed and that she had almost fallen getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. I asked her if she wanted to go to the doctor and she said no, she'd be okay.
I didn't know what to do, so I called Jill, our caregiver. She said if she was there, she would have to call 911, and for me to hang up the phone with her and call, so I did. I asked for a silent response and one ambulance came about 10-15 minutes later. Two guys from Cowlitz 2 Fire & Rescue (because technically we live in the county), came in and took Mom's blood pressure, asked her questions, which she told them she was fine. The younger of the two said they should take her to Emergency, but he was not a paramedic, so I asked to wait for the paramedics. Four paramedics arrived a few minutes later, so now we had SIX men in Mom's bedroom -- bet that won't happen again! The head paramedic advised me to take Mom to her regular doctor, so they put Mom's socks and shoes on her, I got her robe and they helped her down the steps and into my car. I alerted the doctor's office that we were coming, I put Gigi in her crate (poor little girl didn't know what to think), changed my shirt and off we went to Castle Rock, about a half hour away. It had turned out to be a beautiful afternoon, bright, warm sunshine and high puffy white clouds. We got to the doctor's office and waited until they could fit us in. Dr. Emma examined Mom and found a very tender spot on her back on her upper right shoulder. She said that Mom's osteoporosis is causing her muscles to tighten. She said we should get some Tylenol and that Mom should get a light massage.
I had called Martha to tell her about Mom and when she got of school she called, so I had to talk to her. After Mom got her diagnosis, I called Martha again. She surprised me by suggesting she buy a baby monitor, which she said would be good when she stayed with Mom this summer. I also asked her to get the Tylenol for Mom and a package of Mom's disposable panties and she brought them to the house. She helped me put the baby monitor together and set it up. And she stayed while I went to get a hamburger. All this surprised me.
After Mom ate her "breakfast" and took the Tylenol, she got dressed and did the dishes. Then we both sat down in our chairs and fell sound asleep. I finally woke up about 10 p.m. and then woke Mom up and she got to bed about 11 p.m. I didn't get to sleep until around midnight.
In the middle of all this, Jill's boss called and told me that Jill doesn't want to come three days a week any longer, that she just wants to come on Wednesdays. I said I wouldn't accept that, so I don't know what to make of this. All I do know is that Mom needs a shower and her hair washed more than once a week.
The head paramedic guy said that we needed to get a ramp and I said we couldn't afford it, but Martha said to call a couple of people to see what they could do.
So that was my Monday. May that not happen again for a while. And thank you Lord, for carrying me through it.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Battle in the Bathroom
There is the Battle of the Bulge, Battle of Midway, Battle of Gettysburg, and in the Ousley household, there's the Battle of the Bathroom.
A few months ago, Mom was really having trouble getting organized in the bathroom. I found a cute little basket to put all the things she needs in one place, thinking I was eliminating confusion. It did for a while. But then she began using Jergens and Vaseline as toothpaste and God only knows what else on her body that she shouldn't use. One night, I snuck into her bathroom after she went to bed and removed the little basket. Her caregiver said if I eliminate all the choices, the less confusing it is for Mom. So eliminate them I did.
All she has in her bathroom now is a box of tissues, a bar of soap, her electric toothbrush (after she threw the manual one away claiming it was someone else's) and a tube of toothpaste. And she still can't get it right. Every morning and every night I must supervise brushing her teeth and washing her face. I bring in the appropriate face creams and powders and then take them back to their "hidden" spot. Once again I feel like a Mother with a small child.
On a recent trip to get her annual physical, Mom's primary doctor said she believes Mom has just declined about 10 percent from a year ago. I was shocked. I said that I didn't mean to be disrespectful, but how could she judge that in five minutes. She doesn't see what I see every day. She maintained her position, however much I disagreed.
But when an old college buddy visited here a few days ago, she said she couldn't believe how much Mom had changed. She remembers Mom as this "tough as nails" woman who was a rock. Now, my friend said, Mom seems meek, much like a small child.
So the Battle of the Bathroom will continue, and I will continue helping my Mom, who I think is declining 10 percent almost every day, not every year.
My sister, Martha, and I still are not speaking. Martha stopped by once during her entire spring vacation to see Mom for less than an hour. She hasn't seen Mom all week this week. After talking to my counselor, I sent Martha an email this afternoon. It was very formal, very business-like, mostly requesting her help buying some things Mom needs. I just sent the email this afternoon, so I'll wait to see if she responds.
My caregiver class was so helpful. I feel more empowered in helping Mom. The more I learn about this damned disease, the better caregiver I can be.
A few months ago, Mom was really having trouble getting organized in the bathroom. I found a cute little basket to put all the things she needs in one place, thinking I was eliminating confusion. It did for a while. But then she began using Jergens and Vaseline as toothpaste and God only knows what else on her body that she shouldn't use. One night, I snuck into her bathroom after she went to bed and removed the little basket. Her caregiver said if I eliminate all the choices, the less confusing it is for Mom. So eliminate them I did.
All she has in her bathroom now is a box of tissues, a bar of soap, her electric toothbrush (after she threw the manual one away claiming it was someone else's) and a tube of toothpaste. And she still can't get it right. Every morning and every night I must supervise brushing her teeth and washing her face. I bring in the appropriate face creams and powders and then take them back to their "hidden" spot. Once again I feel like a Mother with a small child.
On a recent trip to get her annual physical, Mom's primary doctor said she believes Mom has just declined about 10 percent from a year ago. I was shocked. I said that I didn't mean to be disrespectful, but how could she judge that in five minutes. She doesn't see what I see every day. She maintained her position, however much I disagreed.
But when an old college buddy visited here a few days ago, she said she couldn't believe how much Mom had changed. She remembers Mom as this "tough as nails" woman who was a rock. Now, my friend said, Mom seems meek, much like a small child.
So the Battle of the Bathroom will continue, and I will continue helping my Mom, who I think is declining 10 percent almost every day, not every year.
My sister, Martha, and I still are not speaking. Martha stopped by once during her entire spring vacation to see Mom for less than an hour. She hasn't seen Mom all week this week. After talking to my counselor, I sent Martha an email this afternoon. It was very formal, very business-like, mostly requesting her help buying some things Mom needs. I just sent the email this afternoon, so I'll wait to see if she responds.
My caregiver class was so helpful. I feel more empowered in helping Mom. The more I learn about this damned disease, the better caregiver I can be.
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