Sunday

Trying out the new hammock chair for the first time this morning. Feet propped in the wheelchair, eating pretzel thins, reading Nate's Tim Tebow book. I think she likes it!

(Thanks to Perry Lee for the labor-intensive install yesterday!)

Medicinal Logic

Gwen: Hey, Mom. I forgot about your blue pill. It's three times a day. Do you want to take it?

Mom: Oh, yeah. Three times a day for three days?

Gwen: No, it's not the antibiotic. It's the pill that helps with the stinging. [Mom still won't say something hurts. It "stings."]

Mom: [holds pill and ponders] I don't think I need it.

Gwen: Because the one you took this morning worked and it doesn't sting???

Ev: [silently flees down the hallway]

Mom: [swallows pill] Don't argue with your nurse.

Postscript: It only worked once. No blue pill taken at bedtime. I told Mom it's good she's never been psychotic, because she's the kind of person who would take her anti-psychotic meds, feel better as a result, then stop taking them. She said, "Hmph."

It's 10:00am...Is the day over yet?

Neighbors and blue pee and epic poop, oh my.

This morning when I opened the curtains and turned off the porch light, I saw an unusual sight. Our dear neighbor was sitting in her side yard in the grass with her jammies on. She had her granddaughter's little dog on a leash. I went outside to check on her and as I got closer, I could see she had cut her cheek. I don't know what happened, but she was able to tell me how to get her up, and she was able to walk inside. She wouldn't let me help her in any other way, so I went back to my mom's and tried to figure out how to contact my neighbor's daughter. My sisters didn't have her number. I decided to message her on facebook and thank God, when I opened it up, she had sent me her phone number in a previous message. All appears to be okay. So sad to see the inevitable struggles and setbacks that come with age.

Back to our regularly scheduled morning routine. I took Mom's coffee in and noticed the fluid in her catheter bag was super dark. She had felt really bad yesterday. So bad that she agreed to take medicine for uti pain and antibiotics. So bad that she said, "It would be good if I could die tonight." When I asked her why, she explained, "I asked God to give me joy and I couldn't come up with any joy today." Poor Mama. I told her I would pray for a better day, whether in heaven or not. But here she was awake for another day with really dark pee. In the unlit bedroom, it looked black. When I turned on the light, I saw it was blue and remembered Nurse Christy telling me the pain medication for uti turns your pee blue. Whew!

Mom enjoyed her breakfast of a whole piece of toast and an egg over easy. She said, "I'm HUNGRY!" Initially, she only wanted a 1/2 cup of coffee, but when she smelled a fresh pot, she asked for more. And she stayed up til 9:30am, reading Nate's Tim Tebow book. She asked me if Nate is drinking protein shakes. :) Finally, when she couldn't stay awake any longer, Mom rang for me to wheel her back to her room for a change and a nap. She required a considerable amount of clean up. And then poor Mom kept going. And going. And going. It was an epic, 30 minute diaper change. I don't know where she was keeping it all! Seriously, epic.

So now I'm wondering, can I just be done for the day?

Different Day

7:30-9:00 Mama's up, refuses oxygen, eats normal breakfast of egg over easy, half piece toast, slice bacon

9:00-10:30 Nap with oxygen, requested "a drop of that medicine" (morphine)

10:30-11:30 Up, refused oxygen, requested tuna sandwich, ate 1/4

11:30-12:45 Nap with oxygen

12:45-2:45 Up, not hungry, ate some pretzels, refused oxygen (Karis persuaded Nate to bring oxygen anyway and Mom used it)

2:45-3:45 Nap with oxygen

3:45-5:30 Up, refused oxygen, not hungry, asked Nate for and ate small scoop ice cream/peaches

5:30-6:35 Nap with oxygen

6:35-8:00 Up, refused oxygen, ate 1/2 c. broth, asked for nausea medication

8:00 Bed with oxygen

Not looking so good today.

Mom began the day by rereading her hospice pamphlet. I'm sure that literature is helpful to many people, but it has long been a source of obsession for Mom. Sometimes I think she really wants to have symptoms, like losing her appetite, because she has read it is a sign of impending death. She doesn't want her oxygen, because she thinks it dries her mouth out. Which it very well could, but it also could be that she only drinks about a cup of water each day. At the same time, she is concerned about shortness of breath. "How do I know if I'm having difficulty breathing?"

She really, really wants to be done here. As my brother Loren said this morning, "Poor ma never expected this. Seems there is something she can't do."

Sign?

Okay, now this might make me think the end is near:

Mom's food of choice for the last two days? Hot dogs.

Yup, hot dogs. Oscar Mayer dogs that Karis grilled for Nate's party Sunday. Served up on a white store brand bun and layered with ketchup and mustard.

Roast beef? No.
Roasted garlic potatoes? No.
Roasted broccoli and cauliflower? No.
Sticky chicken? No.
Rice pilaf? No.
Hot dog? Oooooo!

On second thought, maybe this is an indicator of the end of the entire world.

Incommunicado

This morning, as always, my alarm woke me at 7:00. I went to the kitchen, as always, to make the coffee. While the french press worked its magic for five minutes, as always, I opened the curtains and the front door to make ready Mom's spot by the window. When the timer beeped, as always, I poured Mom her half cup of coffee and took it, covered with a saucer to retain the near-boiling heat, to her room. As I set Mom's favorite cup on her bedside table, as always, she greeted me with a surprised, "Gwen!"

This morning, I laughed and asked, "Why are you surprised to see me each morning?" She responded, "I want a diaper change!" Which doesn't really answer my question, but on we go. I discovered the reason Mom was so eager for a change was a soaking wet diaper from a leaking catheter. Poor Mom! I told her I wished she had rung her bell for me, that I had just been making coffee and opening curtains and could have come much sooner. She demurred, saying she knew I was the mother of four and had all of them up and was busy getting them ready to go. I pointed out that Ev was the only child up and reminded Mom that she dresses herself, gets her own breakfast, and makes her own lunch. I don't know if I convinced her.

Mom commented that the cardinals started visiting the bird feeder Loren hung outside her window at 6:30. I asked Mom how long she had been awake. She said she thought she had woken up at 6:30. It makes me sad that she had to lay there in a soaked diaper for an hour. It handicaps me in the role of caregiver when Mom won't ask for what she needs. And I don't know how to get it across that we all understand we are here in this house for the sole purpose of caring for her, not for our own convenience or benefit.

Conversations with Mom

Gwen: [to Karis who is texting a friend] Tell him arguing and love are not mutually exclusive!

Mom: Oh, I think they are.

Gwen: You think arguing and love are mutually exclusive?

Mom: Well, how could you have both?

Gwen: Are you arguing with me?

Mom: Yes.

Gwen: Do you love me?

Mom: Yes.

Gwen: So they are not mutually exclusive!

Mom: Right!

Right.