Both Dan and I got to visit with Mom this morning. She was sleeping when we arrived but woke soon afterwards. We visited for awhile but for some reason there were countless nursing interruptions today - maybe because we were there a little later than usual, I don't know. First there were medications to be given and then there was a breathing treatment so we spent a good deal of time in the waiting room instead of visiting with Estelle. It's one of those "good things, bad things," I think. I'm glad to know they spend a good deal of time with her but, on the other hand, I wish they'd do it when I'm not there.
She did get a chance to have a long phone conversation with Vivian so that was a good thing. She always asks about her children and her extended family and friends so it's always nice when we can get her connected with someone she's missing.
Estelle is looking physically better lately, I think. It could just be because we are seeing her more often but I like to think it's a reality and not imaginary. She was wearing a new blue blouse which looked quite nice on her and whatever new body lotion they are using really smells great. I tried to talk the aide into telling me what the name of it was but she would not give it up. I think it's one of the "magic potions" that the bathing aide makes up personally. Whatever it was, it smelled wonderful.
Mom was a little confused today, and somewhat sad. She wants to go somewhere but she's unsure where it is she wants to go. It's hard to tell her she cannot do so. Dan talked to her about needing to work at it and she seemed satisfied but I don't think she really understands.
We are hoping this last holding on of the winter leaves soon so that we can, at the very least, get her outside and into the fresh air. Unfortunately it is cold and wet and looks more like November than almost April. Even the doffodils look confused.
We're still waiting on maintenance to hang the pictures. They seem to work at their own speed and that speed is not fast. Because I am a world-class procrastinator myself I do not have the heart to chase them down just yet. I have no idea of what their daily workday is like so I will hope that as soon as they have time they will come and insert the hardware into the wall and we can hang the artwork.
Thanks to everyone who calls or writes - as always, it is muchly appreciated.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Two weeks today and still acclimating. Today was another "first" and a surprise for both Estelle and I.
I seem to always arrive before they are done giving the morning baths and dressing the patients so I spent my first half-hour or so reading old magazines in the hallway. Usually when the aides are done they simply come and get me and tell me that I can go in the room now but today they came out to where I was sitting with a surprise - Estelle!!
She was in the chair and ready to go. We decided on the "day" room which doubles as the dining room during meal times since it is bright, airy, looks outdoors on two sides, has a television, is close to her room and was not heavily populated at the time.
Unfortunately she refused to open her eyes for the entire time we were there. She was talking, even had a fairly long phone conversation with her friend, Meryl, but would not look around at all. I'm not sure why. She seemed a bit confused as to where she was and perhaps she was fearful, but that's conjecture on my part, I really don't know why.
She was a bit upset and confused at first - wanting to call Vivian and speak to her - wanting to know when she could "go home," and wondering where her husband was and why he was not telling her what to do. However, her lucidity soon returned as she reported to me that that's what husband's do, you know, they tell you what to do all the time.
We stayed in the sitting area for a little less than two hours, sometimes talking, sometimes not. I did ask that they return her to her room before I left because she did still seem a little confused and I did not want her to be alone and frightened. The head nurse took her right back to her room when I requested and I stayed a bit longer and she was fast asleep in the reclining chair when I left.
I was glad to see her breathing remained stable the entire time - without supplemental oxygen and she seems to be sitting straighter and not slumping to the side nearly as much as before.
I took a few pictures while we were "out and about" and I'll share them with you all.
We are still waiting for maintenance to come and hang the other three pictures on her walls. One is a large O'Keefe print from her condo and the other two are photo collages which we've made from the photos everyone's sent.
Day room and the view from the window in the day room
Estelle's picture board in her room and her television table
I seem to always arrive before they are done giving the morning baths and dressing the patients so I spent my first half-hour or so reading old magazines in the hallway. Usually when the aides are done they simply come and get me and tell me that I can go in the room now but today they came out to where I was sitting with a surprise - Estelle!!
She was in the chair and ready to go. We decided on the "day" room which doubles as the dining room during meal times since it is bright, airy, looks outdoors on two sides, has a television, is close to her room and was not heavily populated at the time.
Unfortunately she refused to open her eyes for the entire time we were there. She was talking, even had a fairly long phone conversation with her friend, Meryl, but would not look around at all. I'm not sure why. She seemed a bit confused as to where she was and perhaps she was fearful, but that's conjecture on my part, I really don't know why.
She was a bit upset and confused at first - wanting to call Vivian and speak to her - wanting to know when she could "go home," and wondering where her husband was and why he was not telling her what to do. However, her lucidity soon returned as she reported to me that that's what husband's do, you know, they tell you what to do all the time.
We stayed in the sitting area for a little less than two hours, sometimes talking, sometimes not. I did ask that they return her to her room before I left because she did still seem a little confused and I did not want her to be alone and frightened. The head nurse took her right back to her room when I requested and I stayed a bit longer and she was fast asleep in the reclining chair when I left.
I was glad to see her breathing remained stable the entire time - without supplemental oxygen and she seems to be sitting straighter and not slumping to the side nearly as much as before.
I took a few pictures while we were "out and about" and I'll share them with you all.
We are still waiting for maintenance to come and hang the other three pictures on her walls. One is a large O'Keefe print from her condo and the other two are photo collages which we've made from the photos everyone's sent.
Day room and the view from the window in the day room
Estelle's picture board in her room and her television table
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Sunday, 3/27
Sunday found Mom sleeping the entire time we were there, which gave us more time for our arts and crafts project (getting some of the photos nicely collaged/arranged on corkboards, and we brought in the O'keefe poster). Evidently, their maintenance staff has to do the actual hanging, whether of corkboard or artwork, so we'll be in touch with those guys this week.
We talked to her nurse a bit, and there's good news: her O2 sat is 97-98%, which means the oxygen is now PRN, medicalese for "as needed." (Laura says nobody's ever 100, so 97-98 is very good.) That makes it much less of a production to go for a walk with her, once she's in the chair. He also said she tolerated sitting in the chair for a couple of hours Friday.
And on one brief weather-related note: we had snow this morning. I don't know about you guys, but I'm about over winter. Here's hoping for a mild spring and plenty of it.
We talked to her nurse a bit, and there's good news: her O2 sat is 97-98%, which means the oxygen is now PRN, medicalese for "as needed." (Laura says nobody's ever 100, so 97-98 is very good.) That makes it much less of a production to go for a walk with her, once she's in the chair. He also said she tolerated sitting in the chair for a couple of hours Friday.
And on one brief weather-related note: we had snow this morning. I don't know about you guys, but I'm about over winter. Here's hoping for a mild spring and plenty of it.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Saturday, 3/26
Mom's still fairly alert today, and still conversing pretty well. At first her speech was more garbled, but it improved as the time went by. The most frustrating thing, I think for her as well as us, is that when her speech is most garbled, the "filler words" come out most clear. So very often, she'll ask "Did you know that [unintelligible]," or "I feel that [unintelligible.]" The most garbled words tend to be the ones on which the meaning of the sentence turn. So at first today I did quite a bit of guessing. But as the visit progressed, the big-ticket words -- the ones carrying the meaning of the sentence -- started being clearer. I do not know whether to ascribe this to my re-acclimation to her or vice versa.
She asked how everybody is, and how I am, and of course, I told her we're fine. She does not seem to think that any of us has met with an unfortunate accident anymore, so I think the UTI-inspired confusion's abated some, though she may still be a bit on the fuzzy side. We made some calls while I was there, one to Mark and one to Marlene (her sister in England,) so Mom got the update on her siblings. A bit more of the old Estelle shone through as she was talking to Mark, as she started asking when he'd be in to visit. As poor Mark tried to explain that it's a plane trip, and he had to plan it out, she shifted her tack to ask him to tell her "approximately." Her will is still there, that's for sure, but I think at today's level of understanding, Mom could not process the difference between a visit that's some time off, and a "what time will you be here" visit, as if it will be tomorrow.
I worked with her a little trying to acquaint her with the nurse-call button. If you haven't seen them, or if there are different kinds, the kind she has is as follows: There's a long cord, ending in an assembly about the size of a small hand-held microphone. On the end of it is a nice big red button.
Mom's fingers and thumb were around a foam rubber thingie they use to combat contractions, so I did not want to replace them with the call button just then. But I asked if she knew what it is. She said "let me see it," so I held it up closer to her. She said "it's a cord." I explained what it is, and what it is for - then I put my finger by her thumb, and asked if she could press against my finger. She couldn't - she might have exerted the slightest bit of pressure using her thumb, and none when I put my finger by her index finger. But interestingly, she moved her arm and hand to exert the pressure.
So while it would be best if she gets control of the digits on her hand -- which may have been impeded today by the foam rubber thingie, after all -- it would still be possible if she grasps the idea of the call button, for her to be able to press it herself by moving it against something stationary. I think that knowing how much care she requires, her aides and nurses pay a lot of attention to her. But being able to use the button, to my way of thinking, would give her a baby step toward a bit more autonomy. And as I say, this was all very spur-of-the-moment; I am not sure of uncurling her hand and curling it around another object is a painful thing to her, so I'll ask the nurse about that one. She seemed to be pretty comfortable, and I didn't want to cause her any pain with my amateur therapy session.
A little after noon today, an aide came in with a breathing treatment mask, which they give to anyone on oxygen, and with some medication. When I returned we chit-chatted a little more, but with the mask on, understanding was more difficult again. But she said the most important words the most clearly, when I left -- perhaps they were easy to say clearly because we say them to those near to us so often, like the "set up" words that don't carry meaning in a sentence. Perhaps we learn to say them purely syntactically, eventually, without semantic meaning. But at the risk of mawkishness, I'll just opt to believe -- as all of us have to, after all, some time or another -- that their semantic content is as clear in the heart as in the voice that speaks them.
They were, of course, "I love you."
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
We had a "Care Plan" meeting with the staff at Woodbine this morning. It was very nice to sit down with Estelle's "main nurse" and her social worker and find out what's been happening in the last 10 days. She's been evaluated by all of the departments and each department (except for the pokey Physical and Occupational Therapy departments) had written an evaluation and plan of action for Estelle.
For the most part, everything will remain much the same as at The Manor. The medicines are all the same as is the feeding type and schedule. They are going to speak to the physician about cutting the oxygen from all the time to part of the time and monitor her closely to make sure her breathing remains good. This would be a big "YAY" if it can happen because it will make her much more mobile. It's sometimes hard to find a portable oxygen tank and a wheelchair which can accommodate it - especially since Mom uses a reclining wheelchair and those are almost never equipped with a tank holder. Plus, oxygen is drying and can get uncomfortable, especially if it's on all the time. On a purely emotional level, psychologically speaking, less is always more. Whenever something foreign is attached to your person you feel encumbered and dependent. That, in itself, is depressing. Two of my sons spent a good portion of their childhood attached to various medical devices - any time even one of them, no matter how tiny or for how short of a time, was removed it was a matter of great celebration for all of us. I doubt it is any different if you are 8 months or 8 years or 88 or 108. The simple act of turning your head is impeded somewhat by a cannula. Answering a phone is harder if there is an IV in the back of your hand or the crook of your arm. The more things you can get rid of the better you feel. We are, therefore, hoping Estelle does well without constant oxygen.
They are going to start getting her up and in a reclining wheelchair several times a week and we'll see how that goes. She did not like sitting up while in The Manor but she has asked several times since she's moved if she can get out of bed so we're holding good hopes there, too. If she tolerates the sitting up well we're planning on getting her out of her room as often as possible for an hour or two at a time or for however long she remains comfortable. There are lots of nice sitting rooms and balconies and outside areas that we're hoping she'll enjoy.
Her nurse did mention that he'd noticed an improvement in her mental status and her awareness since she's arrived so that's all positive news and we were very glad to hear our own thoughts confirmed by a professional. Sometimes it's easy to let hope color what you observe so I'm always happy when someone removed from the emotional aspects of caregiving sees something that they regard as positive.
We did visit with Estelle for a bit before the meeting took place. Unfortunately, she was sleeping and we could not wake her. She was sleeping quite peacefully, though, and she had just had a complete shower and a hairwash and we're beginning to think that the whole process simply wears her out.
We got permission from the staff to decorate her walls so we're bringing some of her art work from her condo to her over the weekend and making a collage of the pictures everyone's been kind enough to send.
And that's that for today. Dan went on to work after the meeting and I've come home to think about doing laundry.
Hope everyone is well and enjoying spring - although I hear it is snowing in places like MA and NJ. We do not have snow here yet, but they are threatening it over the weekend. Breaks my heart because if it dips below freezing the cherry blossoms, the magnolia blossoms and the dogwood flowers will all suffer damage. They do not last long enough as it is.
For now - these are at our back door.
For the most part, everything will remain much the same as at The Manor. The medicines are all the same as is the feeding type and schedule. They are going to speak to the physician about cutting the oxygen from all the time to part of the time and monitor her closely to make sure her breathing remains good. This would be a big "YAY" if it can happen because it will make her much more mobile. It's sometimes hard to find a portable oxygen tank and a wheelchair which can accommodate it - especially since Mom uses a reclining wheelchair and those are almost never equipped with a tank holder. Plus, oxygen is drying and can get uncomfortable, especially if it's on all the time. On a purely emotional level, psychologically speaking, less is always more. Whenever something foreign is attached to your person you feel encumbered and dependent. That, in itself, is depressing. Two of my sons spent a good portion of their childhood attached to various medical devices - any time even one of them, no matter how tiny or for how short of a time, was removed it was a matter of great celebration for all of us. I doubt it is any different if you are 8 months or 8 years or 88 or 108. The simple act of turning your head is impeded somewhat by a cannula. Answering a phone is harder if there is an IV in the back of your hand or the crook of your arm. The more things you can get rid of the better you feel. We are, therefore, hoping Estelle does well without constant oxygen.
They are going to start getting her up and in a reclining wheelchair several times a week and we'll see how that goes. She did not like sitting up while in The Manor but she has asked several times since she's moved if she can get out of bed so we're holding good hopes there, too. If she tolerates the sitting up well we're planning on getting her out of her room as often as possible for an hour or two at a time or for however long she remains comfortable. There are lots of nice sitting rooms and balconies and outside areas that we're hoping she'll enjoy.
Her nurse did mention that he'd noticed an improvement in her mental status and her awareness since she's arrived so that's all positive news and we were very glad to hear our own thoughts confirmed by a professional. Sometimes it's easy to let hope color what you observe so I'm always happy when someone removed from the emotional aspects of caregiving sees something that they regard as positive.
We did visit with Estelle for a bit before the meeting took place. Unfortunately, she was sleeping and we could not wake her. She was sleeping quite peacefully, though, and she had just had a complete shower and a hairwash and we're beginning to think that the whole process simply wears her out.
We got permission from the staff to decorate her walls so we're bringing some of her art work from her condo to her over the weekend and making a collage of the pictures everyone's been kind enough to send.
And that's that for today. Dan went on to work after the meeting and I've come home to think about doing laundry.
Hope everyone is well and enjoying spring - although I hear it is snowing in places like MA and NJ. We do not have snow here yet, but they are threatening it over the weekend. Breaks my heart because if it dips below freezing the cherry blossoms, the magnolia blossoms and the dogwood flowers will all suffer damage. They do not last long enough as it is.
For now - these are at our back door.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Why I Love Estelle
This morning while visiting with Estelle I was, once again, reminded of why she holds such a special place in my heart - one usually not reserved for the "notorious mother-in-law."
The aides had just finished giving her a bath, dressing her, combing her hair and otherwise tidying things up when I got there. She was half-asleep and not inclined to talk much so we were just sitting there together being quiet. She suddenly opened her eyes and said, "Oh, you're back," and we began talking about "the terrible rumors," she'd been hearing about a car accident. Today she knew it was not true and that her children, most especially Mark, were all well and fine. I told her not to believe "rumors" and she pointed out to me that there was no way she could tell rumor from fact and the reason they called them "rumors" was because they were intended to mislead you from the get-go.
Her sister, Marlene, called at that point and after fumbling for my phone we called her back. They had a wonderful conversation together - Estelle was talkative and Marlene gave her a run down of recent activities and Estelle vocalized the wish that they all lived closer and could see one another more frequently. She told her the weather here was changing and definitely held up her end of the conversation. Afer they hung up Estelle closed her eyes for a bit and then opened them wide, turned her head, looked straight at me and said, as plain as day, "Well, that was the loveliest of interludes in an otherwise boring existance."
You have to understand, I grew up in the heart of Chicago in a rather poor blue-collar Irish-Catholic family who had little patience for my book reading or my attempts at what they considered, "fancy talk." Girl children were expected to do two things - 1) keep their mouths shut, and 2) get married and have babies. I grew up convinced that absolutely no one outside of maybe Jane Eyre really used words like "interlude" unless they were looking to get bopped in the eye socket. If you attempted to use a word like "interlude" or even one like "lovely," at the dinner table you would get one of two results, your mother would reach across the table and smack you upside the head for "getting too big for your britches," or your father would roll his eyeballs and tell you that you read far too much fantasy and not enough reality and threaten to take your library card away again.
When I met Estelle at my first Passover meal seven years ago I quickly realized that I could finally, finally use all those words that I'd always been slightly ashamed to know - my only fear was that I would mispronounce them because I'd never heard them spoken, I'd only seen them written. It soon became apparent, however, that Estelle was much too kind to ever even consider laughing at a mispronunciation.
While she never quite convinced me to do more than pretend to sip at the wine or actually (ugh, gag) swallow the horseradish she surely made me a willing and eager Passover participant with her wit and her warmth and her wonderous way with words.
She has lost none of it.
It may take her a bit longer to get it out, but it is still there and it is a joy.
The aides had just finished giving her a bath, dressing her, combing her hair and otherwise tidying things up when I got there. She was half-asleep and not inclined to talk much so we were just sitting there together being quiet. She suddenly opened her eyes and said, "Oh, you're back," and we began talking about "the terrible rumors," she'd been hearing about a car accident. Today she knew it was not true and that her children, most especially Mark, were all well and fine. I told her not to believe "rumors" and she pointed out to me that there was no way she could tell rumor from fact and the reason they called them "rumors" was because they were intended to mislead you from the get-go.
Her sister, Marlene, called at that point and after fumbling for my phone we called her back. They had a wonderful conversation together - Estelle was talkative and Marlene gave her a run down of recent activities and Estelle vocalized the wish that they all lived closer and could see one another more frequently. She told her the weather here was changing and definitely held up her end of the conversation. Afer they hung up Estelle closed her eyes for a bit and then opened them wide, turned her head, looked straight at me and said, as plain as day, "Well, that was the loveliest of interludes in an otherwise boring existance."
You have to understand, I grew up in the heart of Chicago in a rather poor blue-collar Irish-Catholic family who had little patience for my book reading or my attempts at what they considered, "fancy talk." Girl children were expected to do two things - 1) keep their mouths shut, and 2) get married and have babies. I grew up convinced that absolutely no one outside of maybe Jane Eyre really used words like "interlude" unless they were looking to get bopped in the eye socket. If you attempted to use a word like "interlude" or even one like "lovely," at the dinner table you would get one of two results, your mother would reach across the table and smack you upside the head for "getting too big for your britches," or your father would roll his eyeballs and tell you that you read far too much fantasy and not enough reality and threaten to take your library card away again.
When I met Estelle at my first Passover meal seven years ago I quickly realized that I could finally, finally use all those words that I'd always been slightly ashamed to know - my only fear was that I would mispronounce them because I'd never heard them spoken, I'd only seen them written. It soon became apparent, however, that Estelle was much too kind to ever even consider laughing at a mispronunciation.
While she never quite convinced me to do more than pretend to sip at the wine or actually (ugh, gag) swallow the horseradish she surely made me a willing and eager Passover participant with her wit and her warmth and her wonderous way with words.
She has lost none of it.
It may take her a bit longer to get it out, but it is still there and it is a joy.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Monday, March 21. 2011 Afternoon
Just a quick addition - Mom had an unexpected visitor this afternoon. Her old friend, Arlene from Fredricksburg, came with her husband to visit. Estelle did wake up and recognize her and was quite pleased to see them both. They brought a beautiful spring plant for her and it's sitting on her night table right where she can see it any time she wants. She was a bit confused about some things and very interested to know what day it was and what month. For some reason she says something is supposed to happen March 24 so if anyone knows what that date might mean to her, please let us know!! We cannot think of anything.
Anyhow, I am really glad she woke up and enjoyed seeing her old friends!! We also called Mark and she got to talk to him for a bit which made her very happy. She's pretty anxious about her children and always asks about them when we visit.
I left her awake and looking at her flowers with a promise to be back in the morning and hopefully she has a good night.
Thanks to everyone who's already sent me pictures. I know she's going to love them all once I get them collected and arranged for her wall. I can also download pics from the computer and print them if anyone wants to send me some that way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)