Paradox

Last Friday, I needed to take Meg for her follow-up appointment after her hospital stay. I asked Dave what he thought about taking her, and he felt like I needed to go. Of course, he was right; I just didn't know what to do about Mom. Calling someone to sit with her is touchy enough, because it has to be just the right person, only you have to guess who the right person is, because Mom doesn't communicate much as a habit about things like that. Add into that mix of confusion the fact that Mom needs her diaper changed and is not comfortable with anyone except yours truly or a hospice worker. Oh boy.

But God, like the awesome all-knowing gracious God He is, brought to mind an old friend of Mom's who is also a nurse. I called Mom's friend and she immediately said, "Yes!" (I should add this was arranged on Thursday afternoon, the day before.) Then I went in to tell Mom.

Gwen: Mom, I need to take Meg to a doctor appointment tomorrow. So I called the only person I could think of that you would be comfortable with changing you. I called _____________ .

Mom: [nods slowly] You are right! I would be comfortable with ___________, because she is a professional.

Whew! Way to go, God!

So on Friday, Meg and I left the house around 10:30 after our kind friend arrived. Mom was sleeping, knowing that her friend would be there when she woke. We had to wait quite a while at the doctor's office, then our wonderful functional medicine doctor spent a lot of time talking with us. I am so thankful for her! She identified what had caused Meg's ileus and gave us concrete steps to take for healing and prevention. (If anyone has trouble with celiac or with ileus, please feel free to ask me questions. I'll spare everyone else the gory details here. I'm hoping Meg will blog about it, but it is her story to tell.)

Of course, we had our phones silenced during the doctor visit. As we walked to the front to get supplements and leave, Meg got a phone call from Karis. Evidently, Karis had come home from class to find a sad Grandma.

Karis: Hi, Grandma!

Grandma: [pitifully] Oh, hello, Karis. [looks downcast]

Karis: What's wrong?

Grandma: Oh, you haven't heard?

Karis: Well, I know what's going on with you, but I meant why're you looking so--

Grandma: ...dejected?!

Karis said Grandma was asking when we were coming back. It was lunchtime, but she wanted to wait for me to get her food. She wanted her friend to go home and me to come back. Stat.

So here's the paradox: Now Mom wants me to schedule with the hospice volunteers to come once a week and give me a break. A volunteer will stay for up to four hours. Mom is very concerned that I am here all the time, caring for her. She wants me to have a break, which is very thoughtful.

But is she going to be pitiful when I am gone?

What is even up with that?