A new phase approaches

Deep sigh...

My mom is now completely incontinent, urinary-wise and with a measure of fecal incontinence.  Plus, she doesn't want to change her briefs when they become wet, due to a combination of laziness - by her own admission - as well as an aversion to 'wasting money' on briefs and unawareness of her own urination.  So she is at now at risk of needing a nursing home instead of her current assisted living arrangements (one bedroom, one living room with a kitchenette, private bathroom, nice lake view).

And, with her occasional low blood sugar issues, there are some safety concerns, both with any dangerous low blood sugars as well as any associated falls.  She is also on oxygen 100% of the time, 24x7, though she has resisted doing so, at least up until our conversation yesterday.

Yesterday I told her that the potential consequence of wet and overflowing briefs is ... moving to a nursing home. It was not a happy conversation.

Today I checked out nursing homes.  One was straight out of central casting of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.  Awful.  The other was clean and orderly, but with her sharing what is a very small hospital-room space.  I've toured yet another, a little further from me but associated with her present facility, and though she'd likely share a room, the place is clean and pleasant and comfortable.

So, as I consider the title of this blog, her life is soon contracting further, from a 3-room apartment to half of a hospital room.  Soon, with a poof, will she just vanish?  She is miserable, and wishes that to be sooner rather than later.  Poor disappearing mother.

Three-year anniversary

My mom has been in her assisted living facility for three years now, as of a couple of days ago.

Wow.  Honestly, when she first got there, I thought she would only live six months or a year, maybe two at most.  She was disoriented and suffered various health challenges.  Good care has extended her life for these three years, and though she is weakening and declining, she remains pretty sharp, even sharper (maybe) than 3 years ago.

Three years.  Surprising.

Clock-checking

Mom has a curious obsession with the time.  She is adamant that, every week or two, I MAKE SURE that each clock is set exactly correctly.  I have to look at my cell phone (which I assure her is set to the Atomic Clock), then look at each of her clocks to be sure they're still right.  She has an electric one, that is of course always correct, and a battery-powered one which I suppose could lose battery power.  And she has a mantle clock which does need occasional tweaking by a minute or so back or forward.

But ... why is the exact time so important?  She doesn't have an intensely scheduled day.  It's curious to me.

More Groundhog Days....

I keep on visiting.

Her toe hurts. Her toilet paper roll needs to be changed.  We chat about Evelyn's latest antics and forgetfulness.  I ask if Bob or Marilyn called, or if she's called Violet.

And we sit in some silence.

She does ask about me and my life at times, and I reply, but I need to be concise because she'll lose interest fairly quickly.  Her eyes glaze over a bit and she starts looking around.

She was very happy with the outcome of her 90th birthday.  She got some nice flowers and a stack of cards.  A few folks visited.  And the flowers are (most of them) still sitting on her desk, dead, but she wants them.  And the balloons in the mylar will stay up for about six months, and she'll leave them there I'm sure. Maybe I'll sneak a little air out each visit so she lets me clean them away.

She doesn't listen to the Books for the Blind tapes.  "Too much trouble" - though I've queued it up and all she has to do is lean slightly to her left and push the giant green button.  Too much trouble.

So she turns on TV and watches the Animal Planet or the Weather Channel or Dr Phil.  And waits for me to come visit so we can discuss her toe, or her toilet paper roll or Evelyn's antics.

Deja vu all over again.  Sigh.