word of the day

My mother handed me a list of words, written on flowery paper in her shaky, weak handwriting:

• Chapultepec
• bituminous coal
• ozone
• Weimerauner (on the list twice), and related (in her mind), Lippizaner
• metatarsal
• sanctions 

She said she has started to wake up with a word on her mind. She has been writing it down, and asked me to research and print a bit about each.  We talked about the meanings briefly, but she would like a bit of research.

I'm heartened by this interesting request. It shows curiosity and interest in learning.

On the same visit as this request, though, she said she doesn't think 'it' will be much longer (before death). She is happy about that, or at least, content. But then in the next breath she said she hasn't needed the oxygen so much so maybe she's doing OK.  Though it can be disturbing to talk with her with such ease about her impending death, it must be a relief for her to be able to talk about it comfortably.  I allow her to dwell on it as much as she seems to want to talk about it, then we move on.

My vacation - I survived! She is surviving!

My husband and I decided to take a longish car trip from Kansas City to Southern California to visit and back, but with time on both ends for some touring.  On the way out (to visit friends in the mountains), the plan was to stop to see my brother, and on the way back to do some touring in Arizona, Utah and California. 

The first night, in a tiny town in the middle of Kansas, I had an 'event' that could have been a heart problem, or a medication interaction ... but I passed out in the bathroom, breaking a tooth and waking up on the cold tiles.  We went to the emergency room of a VERY small hospital.  They ended up releasing me, warning me to stop immediately in an emergency room if I experienced further symptoms.  (Have they seen the route between Kingman Kansas and Albuquerque?  I suspect most towns make do with no more than a veterinarian.)  While I could milk that story ad infinitum, I'll move on. 

As I sat in the emergency room receiving care, I found the tables turned. different from my attending to my mother's needs with her sometimes-frequent trips there. I wasn't crazy about being the one with the gown. 

I have spent the vacation, since that Night One, worrying whether I should have turned around to be fully examined.  Each time I've gotten short of breath, I wondered. Each twinge, I wondered.  (I've been fine, and have an appointment immediately upon my return.) 

Mom has been fine, no really, she has been surprisingly positive.  (She bounced right back after my last blog post, and though still fragile, she is as she was before the pain patch made her unstable and sick.)  I have called almost daily (when I had signal), and she has a list of people to call if she gets lonely.  I helped her line up a massage (!  Her first!), and she signed up for another while I'm gone.  She misses me, but her attitude has been great. 

I decided not to tell my mother about my fall and hospital visit until I get back, and to share it as one of many stories from my trip.  I am still a couple of days away from a return, and am figuratively holding my breath.  

Pain, oxygen and a decline

Deep breath.

Mom was walking (with her walker) back from a meal a few days ago when she became quite short of breath, and remained that way for a time.  She called for help using her ever-present button, and the staff called the hospice nurse, who said to help her use the oxygen machine that had been sitting in the corner since she started hospice.  The episode resolved, she went back to normal, and she has had staff take her to meals in her wheelchair to meals to prevent a recurrence of the shortness of breath.

Hospice sent portable tanks and tubing to be available, in addition to the big machine.  Mom started stressing about needing to have oxygen ever-present, asking help from the assisted living aides.  (I think it was a little bit of a thrill to have a new addition to her routine.) Asking for help led to (unfortunately), the unit manager raising red flags immediately about such routine oxygen support not being included in the level of care, that Mom may have to move.  This of course was upsetting to Mom.  Sigh.

We determined that, while she may need oxygen occasionally, she does not have to be 'on' oxygen 24x7 at all - at least not now.

Next she heard from a table-mate that a 'pain patch' is a great way to control pain, which has been increasing with arthritis and back pain (due to both slumping and falls).  So I brought her to the doctor to talk about pain management and a pain patch.  She tried it, and in less than 24 hours, she fell this morninig due to dizziness, and then at noon, she threw up.  The patch is off, and we're back to her just having to ask for pills.

I was with her when she threw up, and so I took her back to her room, made her bed, helped her change her clothes, and helped her into bed.  It was so sad, how frail she was. Her confusion - she called me by the wrong name, said silly nonsensical things (kind of an elderly game of Word Association).  How desperate and afraid. She is tired of this. She hurts most of the time and the effort to go through daily life is overwhelming.  She cannot easily get about without aid.  She often cannot manage toileting successfully.  She requires help showering.  Her life is shrinking even more.

As I left her today, in bed to rest, I again realized that it is not unthinkable that she may die before I see her next.  I suspect that is not the case, that her frailness is more due to the residual effect of the pain patch medicine that didn't sit well with her.  But one day, probably soon, will be her last.  And what a relief for all.  Poor thing.