Thursday, January 22, 2004
All pages, I think, now have corrected navigation links.
The pages left on the original Mom & me Journals dot Net site, for the moment, only have intra-partition links but that will be corrected shortly. I need to do a little redesigning of the index page and some search engine and counter/tracker work next.
I thought I'd have a fair amount of time to write today. I've been editing the Doctors and Patience essay in my head but never seem to get enough time in one batch to complete it. I'm glad I waited to write it. My medical experience up here is changing some of my opinions.
I looked up dehydration in the elderly again today. Only one site alluded to any of the special circumstances that enhance the possibility of dehydration in the elderly. It mentioned that any person beyond the age of 75-80 naturally carries 7 liters of water less in their body than any person half their age at their same weight. Several sites mentioned the phenomenon of the elderly becoming insensitive to thirst, although the bio-chemical reasons for this are never mentioned. My guess is that we don't know why this happens although I think we have a good philosophical reason for it: That the increasing neuropathy of the old makes dying easier, more comfortable. I've discussed this before.
I ran some of the more interesting facts about dehydration in the elderly by Mom. She was immediately interested and surprised. The discussion prompted her to attend to drinking the water I'd placed before her. I ply her with fluids all the time when she is having days that take place mostly in bed. This annoys her and she often defensively refuses what I'm offering her, especially if she's still in bed (which is where she is always the most dehydrated). We don't have pitched battles but I can imagine that happening. I know she won't remember the information specifically. If I try obvious reminders she'll become irritated and tune me out. But, if every couple of days I "do a search on the elderly and dehydration" when she's up, it might become a part of her mental repertoire, the way she now remembers that "4" in Sorry is always backwards.
I can think of one argument against the theory of old age neuropathy. In the case of injury the elderly do not feel pain any less than anyone in any other age demographic. From my experience with my mother it appears evident that age lowers one's pain threshold. At the very least, when one is old pain is a goddamnedpainintheass. I can understand an 86 year old complaining more about pain that a 68 year old or a 6 or 8 year old. While witnessing one of her back spasms I have anxiously blurted out that I hope her pain isn't making life any less worth living for her. She always looks surprised in response and always assures me that, no, of course not, "...that's not going to happen." I hope not. I hope she goes because she's ready for a new adventure, not because she's had it with the old one.
By way of general information, my mother never dreamed she'd be old the way she is old. I've mentioned, in one of the essays that she would never be picked as a "cover girl" for Modern Maturity. She isn't an 86 year old surfer, one of whom I've witnessed. She isn't Picasso at 90 or Grandma Moses at 101. I'm sure she has some surprises in store for us who love her and for herself. I'm sure some of them are going to be spectacular. Some of them already have been. As well, I've always had the impression that my mother expected to be the 86 year old surfer, a 101 year old Grandma Moses. I think all of us expected this of her. In reality we do consider her a walking miracle but not of the Guinness Book of World Records sort. I think at this point the most remarkable aspect of my mother's journey through advanced age is that the reason she's still alive is that she doesn't yet realize that she's mortal. Old age has surprised her. She didn't think she'd catch the glint of some of its more inconvenient and troublesome facets. She has borne this with grace and stoicism. She has lately been cautioning me, a lot, not to get old. Truthfully, I don't think I will. I confirmed this tonight after watching her struggle off the toilet, in a voice that apparently rang with such unexpected conviction that my mother did a double take in response. My mother is up to old age even though it isn't what she was expecting. Knowing what I might be able to expect, I'm not sure I am. I know I wouldn't be up to it if I didn't have someone like me around.
It's been about 40 hours since we last walked. I've been nervous about letting her slack off the last few days. She's slept a lot but I've been keeping it to small doses so she doesn't get too stiff. Well, small doses for her. She can still handle 12 hours but not much more. She is, though, incredibly tired if she gets less than 12 hours. I've been mentioning lately that if she consented to using the oxygen during the day at home when she's up she'd have more energy but she's not having any of that. Not yet, anyway. Because of this I don't begrudge her naps either because she's hooked up to oxygen when she naps, now.
It looks as though I can get to bed relatively early tonight. I'm going to take advantage of the opportunity.
Later.
I thought I'd have a fair amount of time to write today. I've been editing the Doctors and Patience essay in my head but never seem to get enough time in one batch to complete it. I'm glad I waited to write it. My medical experience up here is changing some of my opinions.
I looked up dehydration in the elderly again today. Only one site alluded to any of the special circumstances that enhance the possibility of dehydration in the elderly. It mentioned that any person beyond the age of 75-80 naturally carries 7 liters of water less in their body than any person half their age at their same weight. Several sites mentioned the phenomenon of the elderly becoming insensitive to thirst, although the bio-chemical reasons for this are never mentioned. My guess is that we don't know why this happens although I think we have a good philosophical reason for it: That the increasing neuropathy of the old makes dying easier, more comfortable. I've discussed this before.
I ran some of the more interesting facts about dehydration in the elderly by Mom. She was immediately interested and surprised. The discussion prompted her to attend to drinking the water I'd placed before her. I ply her with fluids all the time when she is having days that take place mostly in bed. This annoys her and she often defensively refuses what I'm offering her, especially if she's still in bed (which is where she is always the most dehydrated). We don't have pitched battles but I can imagine that happening. I know she won't remember the information specifically. If I try obvious reminders she'll become irritated and tune me out. But, if every couple of days I "do a search on the elderly and dehydration" when she's up, it might become a part of her mental repertoire, the way she now remembers that "4" in Sorry is always backwards.
I can think of one argument against the theory of old age neuropathy. In the case of injury the elderly do not feel pain any less than anyone in any other age demographic. From my experience with my mother it appears evident that age lowers one's pain threshold. At the very least, when one is old pain is a goddamnedpainintheass. I can understand an 86 year old complaining more about pain that a 68 year old or a 6 or 8 year old. While witnessing one of her back spasms I have anxiously blurted out that I hope her pain isn't making life any less worth living for her. She always looks surprised in response and always assures me that, no, of course not, "...that's not going to happen." I hope not. I hope she goes because she's ready for a new adventure, not because she's had it with the old one.
By way of general information, my mother never dreamed she'd be old the way she is old. I've mentioned, in one of the essays that she would never be picked as a "cover girl" for Modern Maturity. She isn't an 86 year old surfer, one of whom I've witnessed. She isn't Picasso at 90 or Grandma Moses at 101. I'm sure she has some surprises in store for us who love her and for herself. I'm sure some of them are going to be spectacular. Some of them already have been. As well, I've always had the impression that my mother expected to be the 86 year old surfer, a 101 year old Grandma Moses. I think all of us expected this of her. In reality we do consider her a walking miracle but not of the Guinness Book of World Records sort. I think at this point the most remarkable aspect of my mother's journey through advanced age is that the reason she's still alive is that she doesn't yet realize that she's mortal. Old age has surprised her. She didn't think she'd catch the glint of some of its more inconvenient and troublesome facets. She has borne this with grace and stoicism. She has lately been cautioning me, a lot, not to get old. Truthfully, I don't think I will. I confirmed this tonight after watching her struggle off the toilet, in a voice that apparently rang with such unexpected conviction that my mother did a double take in response. My mother is up to old age even though it isn't what she was expecting. Knowing what I might be able to expect, I'm not sure I am. I know I wouldn't be up to it if I didn't have someone like me around.
It's been about 40 hours since we last walked. I've been nervous about letting her slack off the last few days. She's slept a lot but I've been keeping it to small doses so she doesn't get too stiff. Well, small doses for her. She can still handle 12 hours but not much more. She is, though, incredibly tired if she gets less than 12 hours. I've been mentioning lately that if she consented to using the oxygen during the day at home when she's up she'd have more energy but she's not having any of that. Not yet, anyway. Because of this I don't begrudge her naps either because she's hooked up to oxygen when she naps, now.
It looks as though I can get to bed relatively early tonight. I'm going to take advantage of the opportunity.
Later.
