A Few Days Difference

What a difference a few days makes. On Sunday Mom was unable to make it from the bathroom to the rolling walker/chair before her legs gave out. She had taken two rests during the clean up and get ready for bed process, but still was too weak to get all the way through the door without collapsing. I was able to hold her up long enough to get her back against the door frame and then we slowly slid to the floor together. It was such a slow, gentle descent that it felt like slow motion. She was unhurt, but it became clear that she is becoming weaker quickly right now.

When I checked in with Hospice, as they instructed me to do whenever something of this sort happens, the nurse suggested that it is time to stop trying to toilet her in the bathroom. Thus, we have set up the bedside toilet for her to use. Additionally, I am having the caregivers help me get her toileted and prepped for bed before they leave. We are getting her safely tucked into her hospital style bed and then raising the head of the bed up so that she is sitting up. I feed her dinner in her bed, like the princess she is, and then I brush her teeth, lower the bed and she is safely and comfortably tucked into bed for the night.

If I need to clean her up during the night I can do it in the bed or in the toilet right beside her bed. Most often, however, I will simply wait until the caregiver arrives in the morning and then we can do it together. Mom is too weak to help me anymore and, yet, she is too heavy for me to lift or move by myself. So this compromise seems to be the best plan at this time.

I will add that mom’s sense of humor is still quite intact. She doesn’t hesitate to offer a fist and a giggle to anyone who is trying to cajole her into doing something she isn’t prepared to do. She will offer a finger for her blood sugar prick, then quickly pull it back under the covers and laugh! She has been known to pat the bath nurse or any of us who care for her on the head when we are bent down to do something like put on her socks or shoes. She may not be able to crack a full joke, but she did understand today that the nurse, the caregiver and I were talking about her. She told us that she could hear us in her own way and, when I told her we were plotting against her, she offered a quavering “… whaaaaaaat?” It wasn’t quite a full “Say Whaaaat”, but it was close enough to be clear what she was saying. And the giggle that followed removed any doubts. So, we lose ground in one area, but we are holding it another. And I’ll take the joyful spirit over the weakened body any day!