Friday, August 1, 2008
A Little Bit of Trouble
Movement for 7/31/08:
- Her "morning", which started at 1400, yes, we're getting back to Mom's "regularly scheduled programming"; was slow, she was a little funky upon arousal, but she persevered and the wheel chair wasn't necessary, even though I offered it. She seemed, though, a bit more tired all morning than usual. Could be the humidity...could be the lung cancer...
- I allowed her a full three hour nap and she took every bit of it. She was easy to rouse but not at all easy to get moving. I suggested a wheel chair evening and she agreed, right up to using the ramp both into and out of the living room. However, when I presented her with the spit bowl for brushing her teeth in the evening, she refused it with disgust and stood at the sink to brush her teeth. She also walked under her own environmental steam into bed. She didn't go to bed until 0200, but after a relatively easy evening she seemed to have the energy and stamina to walk to the bed.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
The Day After?
Movement for 7/30/08:
- I'm not sure why, although I'm chalking it up to awakening Mom, yesterday, two hours earlier than her 12-hour-sleep-mark, but she was very tired when I awoke her at her 12-hour-sleep-mark today, at 1300. It took a good 15 minutes just to get her sitting at the edge of the bed and another 30 minutes before we began our slow progress into the bathroom. As usual, though, she perked up during bathing, so, so far no wheel chair today; and a definite "No, not today," to my suggestion, at breakfast, during which our conversation was unusually lively, that maybe today would be a good day to wheel around the yard so she could see what's growing (it's all wild stuff) and "supervise" my yard work. "We could take Mr. Man out with us on the harness," I suggested, hoping that might change her mind, but, it didn't. Oh well. I'll keep trying, but, you know, at this point, I'm leaving it up to her. She isn't feeling deprived.
On her way to the bedroom for her nap, as she approached the toilet she noted that "my right knee's giving out." After our pre-nap bathroom routine, though, she was fine, just slow, and refused the wheel chair method of getting into bed. I'm letting her sleep in, at least until 2030 (she went down at 1730) but I'm hoping the smell of the simmering, home made ham and bean soup will arouse her, shortly. - The second half of her day proceeded well. Normal movement to normal places without using the chair. I noticed that standing up was surprisingly easy for her tonight when she arose from her rocker for her last walkering into the bathroom and walking into bed. I congratulated her on standing so easily. I often comment on how well (or, for that matter, how poorly) she performs when standing, walking and walkering. Suddenly, tonight, after my hailing of her standing technique, the absurdity of this hit me. "It must be weird," I said to Mom, not being able to contain a wry chuckle, "to be almost 91 and have people practically applaud every time you stand up!"
She flashed me an ironic grin. "Just wait until you get to be 90," she said, then chuckled, too.
It occurred to me a moment later that she could have meant one of two things: That, either, when you're 90 and in her condition you deserve applause for every successful stand or, when you're 90 and people constantly comment on the quality of every little movement you make, life can officially be labeled "weird".
I didn't ask for confirmation of either.
The Observer and the Observed
Movement for 7/29/08:
- The Hospice RN showed up today just as Mom was ready to head out of the bathroom to the breakfast table. I was pleased that he would be able to see how she "mobilizes" and told him this when he wondered if he should leave and come back later.
"No," I told him, "I want you to see how we live. As time passes I'm sure that you'll see in a variety of stages, naked and clothed. As far as I'm concerned, you're a part of the family. I want you to feel welcome at any time no matter what we're doing."
Thus, he stood by and watched as she and I trekked from the bathroom to the table. He made two comments to me: "I'm watching you're technique," and "That's the way my mother walks."
He asked if she uses the cane, seeing it in the kitchen, and I said, "Yes, like this," and I held it up the way she holds it when she uses it, which is, essentially, useless. He asked about her use of the walker and I demonstrated her wheelbarrow way of using it. I explained that she did, indeed, use it every day to cover areas with no available environmental support but, mostly, she moved in areas with lots of environmental support and, actually, moves much better during these than other times.
He also noted that she was able to talk while she was moving and immediately after she stopped (although she does stop when she talks, during movement, for any length of time). He took her blood oxygen level immediately after she sat. It was 93%. I was under the mistaken impression that this was at 5/lpm. As it happened, I had accidentally dialed the regulator to 6/lpm as I switched her from bedroom oxygen to tank oxygen. Oops!
Still and all, he assessed her as moving well within her limits. My take on this is that she is comfortable with herself and moves as much as she can and wants to, as she is able, thus, she regulates herself well and is so comfortable with her limits that she doesn't consider them limits. - After the nurse left she was up for another episode of Blue Planet, so we headed for the living room. I think she "stayed too long at the fair," though, because she discovered, on her way to the foyer banister in order to take a nap, that her legs (particularly her right) were "giving out" on her. I picked up the slack with the wheelchair at the top of the steps and wheeled her not only into the bathroom but into her bedroom, as well.
- In the evening she had revived. She moved both with the walker and under her own steam as usual. She even "danced" (wiggled her hips in response to a joke I made) at the sink when she was brushing her teeth before bed. Earlier in the day I mentioned "getting out" again, noting that we hadn't done that "today".
Mom sighed. "I know," she said. "I just didn't have it in me today. Maybe later this week."
We'll follow her schedule on this. - During a part of the RN's and my conversation I mentioned the difficulty Mom has getting into our car. We've tried it once since she's returned from the facility. We decided, one day before the rains set it, that it might be nice to go to the park and she assented to the idea of being wheeled around to people watch, although I assured her I'd take her walker with us "just in case". Getting her out of the house with the outside ramp is a breeze, but getting her into the car is not. After a couple of very frustrating tries, we decided to stop. I've had it in the back of my mind to try again...I've even mentioned it to Mom but, of all the things she is capable of forgetting, her difficulty getting into our car (which is a light utility truck) is not one of them.
The nurse expressed surprise that she has trouble with "that little truck". "Can't she just slide in?" he asked.
"Nope," I confirmed, "she's too short to do that anymore without lifting herself up and we discovered that she can't seem to do that anymore [it was a mere three months ago, the last time she negotiated the truck seat in order to go to an EPO appointment]." As well, I'm not at all facile at lifting and pushing her into the seat.
So, I asked him about possible platforms with ramps attached (knowing that MPNP is, at this time, drowning in school and work) that I could use to wheel her to a height almost equal to the floor of the truck then have her stand and sidle in. He suggested another possibility: Dig out a part of the dirt area to the side of our front driveway to create a faux driveway alongside the concrete one that is low enough so that, when I back the truck into it, she can just step from the driveway into the car. This, actually, is a great idea. I scoped out the dirt area beside the driveway this morning and it should work. Now, just to get to it, and all the other yard work that has fallen by the wayside since 5/14/08!
Monday, July 28, 2008
Less Slow
Movement for 7/28/08:
- Although again, this morning, when I attempted to rouse her at her 12-hour-sleep-mark, she asked for extra time (yesterday she asked for an extra hour...today she asked for an extra half hour; both days I gave her for what she asked) and was so drowsy she performed a sitting up mini-sleep during her first breathing treatment of the day, when I asked if she wanted to use the wheel chair (each time she needed to move from one place to another) this "morning", she refused. She was iffy on her feet, especially her right, but persevered. She walked under her own steam on her usual paths, walkered on her usual paths, took steps and performed our usual before-front-groin-bathing stretch-drop shoulders-hootchy kootch with elan. We'll see how she does tonight.
- No problems this evening, either...and no wheeling. Did her usual combination of walking with environmental supports and walkering. She was in a very good mood. Mentioned to me, "I haven't been outside today, have I?"
I confirmed that she hadn't...but didn't bother to mention that she hasn't been outside in a long time. "The rain seems to have abated as of today. Why don't we plan on spending some time in the yard tomorrow?" I said.
"Good idea!" She sounds enthusiastic. Maybe some of her recent drag has definitely been attributable to the rain.
Day Goes Sour
Movement for 7/27/08:
- Morning movement good, no wheel chair usage. Used the walker once from dinette banister to rocking chair and from rocking chair to foyer banister. Otherwise, moved under own steam. A little stiff but seemed to alleviate as her "morning" progressed and she moved.
- Both she and I had been working, all day, on fairly bad moods. We clashed in the evening. My mood included yet another day of soreness, although I'm not sure why. In the evening I simply couldn't deal with all the activity involved in allowing her to move on her own and using the walker, so, to my mother's consternation, despite her mention of noticeable stiffness, I declared the evening a full wheelchair evening, including ramping. She transferred well, though, so she probably would have moved well on her own. I just couldn't deal with it.
