Forward Steps
Yesterday I was with my parents when the health nurse came for her eleventh visit. She had not seen Mom for several weeks (Another nurse filled in.), and was impressed with Mom's progress. Her heartbeat is regular and her blood oxygen levels are good. All of us agreed that no further visits were necessary. As Lois put it, "we're well beyond the two-steps-forward-and-one-step-backward stage. All the steps are forward steps now."
When I got there around 11:00, I saw that Mom had put away the bathrobes she has been wearing nearly all the time since the middle of November in favor of a dress. The dress was a size or two too big, since her weight loss, but it was a shimmery deep royal blue and made her gray-blue eyes look perky. She was navigating entirely without a walker while I was there. A week and half ago, the hospital bed went back to its storage spot in the mini-barn at Cedar Crest.
I noticed another change during meal time. Mom took a serving of green beans and salad without prompting. For some reason, vegetables, which she has always been very fond of, have been especially difficult for her to enjoy since her health crisis. She is no longer taking the appetite stimulant that was prescribed several weeks ago.
She also trundled out to the cupboard in the garage to look for the green beans she had canned last summer and told me she was hungry for. She did this right after she said Dad had forbidden her to go to the garage. (She obviously perceived some flexibility in the admonition.) I followed her to make sure everything went OK. It did.
After lunch, I combed her silver spun-silk hair into a single slender braid. Then she looked as pretty as ever. While I did so she reminisced about the time her own mother was at this stage of life--when her daughters combed her hair for her. I don't have daughters who will ever comb my hair, but I wonder if I will someday need someone else's help to comb my hair. It's not a cheering thought, although I have no particular fondness for the job, and have often wished it weren't necessary.
My sister Linda is taking a one-day respite each week from working for my parents. It was on her day off that I filled in before and after lunch. Lois had done so after breakfast, and was planning to bring in supper. Judy had brought a meal on Monday, and Rhoda will provide Sunday dinner.
Linda will probably go back to work at Golden Rule when Mom is able to do all the cooking again.
My brother Myron read and forwarded to the rest of us a New York Times article he found that resonated with us regarding Mom's experience. It lists some of the perplexing after effects people seem to suffer from having spent time in the intensive care unit of a hospital. I'll put it here, with no guarantees that the link will be live. (I am so not smart about these things.)
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/12/health/12icu.html
When I got there around 11:00, I saw that Mom had put away the bathrobes she has been wearing nearly all the time since the middle of November in favor of a dress. The dress was a size or two too big, since her weight loss, but it was a shimmery deep royal blue and made her gray-blue eyes look perky. She was navigating entirely without a walker while I was there. A week and half ago, the hospital bed went back to its storage spot in the mini-barn at Cedar Crest.
I noticed another change during meal time. Mom took a serving of green beans and salad without prompting. For some reason, vegetables, which she has always been very fond of, have been especially difficult for her to enjoy since her health crisis. She is no longer taking the appetite stimulant that was prescribed several weeks ago.
She also trundled out to the cupboard in the garage to look for the green beans she had canned last summer and told me she was hungry for. She did this right after she said Dad had forbidden her to go to the garage. (She obviously perceived some flexibility in the admonition.) I followed her to make sure everything went OK. It did.
After lunch, I combed her silver spun-silk hair into a single slender braid. Then she looked as pretty as ever. While I did so she reminisced about the time her own mother was at this stage of life--when her daughters combed her hair for her. I don't have daughters who will ever comb my hair, but I wonder if I will someday need someone else's help to comb my hair. It's not a cheering thought, although I have no particular fondness for the job, and have often wished it weren't necessary.
My sister Linda is taking a one-day respite each week from working for my parents. It was on her day off that I filled in before and after lunch. Lois had done so after breakfast, and was planning to bring in supper. Judy had brought a meal on Monday, and Rhoda will provide Sunday dinner.
Linda will probably go back to work at Golden Rule when Mom is able to do all the cooking again.
My brother Myron read and forwarded to the rest of us a New York Times article he found that resonated with us regarding Mom's experience. It lists some of the perplexing after effects people seem to suffer from having spent time in the intensive care unit of a hospital. I'll put it here, with no guarantees that the link will be live. (I am so not smart about these things.)
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/12/health/12icu.html
posted by Mrs. I at
4:34 PM
2 Comments:
She is taking an active interest in resuming responsibility for housekeeping again, even though she still needs quite a bit of help. She has menu suggestions sometimes. She helps put dishes away. She wrote a 13-item grocery shopping list for Dad. She is itching to go to the grocery store herself. In various ways she helps around the house.
Clarification on the garage policy: she is not to go out to their multi-purpose garage alone. It's fine if one of us goes along.
Linda Rose
By
Anonymous, at 1/31/2009
Glad to hear your mother is gaining. Do you remember Sanford's sister Laura? She passed away January 20th. We are excited that her mind is now 'normal'.
By
Anonymous, at 2/02/2009
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