Wednesday, January 21, 2004
I am letting her sleep it off...
...whatever "it" is. This is typical for 36 hours after an acupuncture appointment. Periods of high energy and improved physical strength and grace followed by some hours of completely relaxed sleep. She was up earlier this morning, we changed her underwear (she'd not leaked through), I forced some fluids into her, she announced she was going back to bed, didn't want breakfast, and, finally, three or four cigarettes, several versions of Local on the 8's and an hour later she was back in bed. She was adamant about no food. Considering her apparent alertness and strength, I honored her wishes. It is approaching noon and I am trying to decide whether to awaken her to breakfast now or let her sleep a little longer. She is dreaming right now. From the dreams she relates to me I know she has the most pleasant, blissful reveries.
I just heard her coughing. She may have been semi-aware of me looking in on her. I'll wait 'till I hear more stirring or the cats begin their migration toward The Room of the Waking One. If, however, she decides to sleep a bit longer I think I'll let her. She's on oxygen. She's breathing deeply and evenly. She's not clutching the bed or the bed clothes, she's relying on them.
I'm finding it strange to consider the accomplishments in which I lately take pride. For instance: Since her injury I've been doing her hair once every two or three days. This "doing" includes everything from washing it and stimulating her scalp to treating it with a force of volumizers and stabilizers, drying, curling and styling it. I'm surprised at how well I'm doing. I am, at this time, doing better than one of her regular stylists and I'm doing so by dint of observing the techniques of the other stylist, the one I've dubbed a hair sculptor (which she appreciates and understands, since she is an artist). My mother's hair is not easily styled. She wears it in a back combed, teased, glued helmet including a pastische a la mode. If done well it has been known to last a week. Since I know, though, that she loves to be groomed in any way I decided to take on the entire operation in order to give her a couple of hours every other day or so of intense pleasure-shivering. She is a delight to serve in this way because she wiggles and sighs her way through the experience. I consider it physical therapy. There is something to be said, as well, for my intense and promiscuous native curiosity, which kicked in when I moved in with her, about all aspects of her life, "...just in case." I never thought I'd be doing her hair to the point of wondering how I'd fare in an old fashioned hair styling competition with pieces. I have always loved learning, though, practicing and honing all kinds of skills. Learning how to dress hair well enough to pass for professional is a kick in itself. All areas of body decoration appeal to me and this interest, used on behalf of my mother, allows her to indulge in her native pride, which feeds her vitality.
I do think that if her back's recent improvement remains continues, getting her back to the hair dresser is important. Outings do her quite a bit of good. She tends to overestimate what she can do and disdains the wheelchair but will use it in a flash if I keep it handy, so I do.
Another interesting surprise comment from the acupuncturist yesterday. I took my laptop with me, blissfully mired as I've been in restructuring the Mom & Me website. It's the first time I've "taken" anything to do. I usually scan read books on the specifically and modestly stocked shelf or act as a "conductor" for the half hour to three quarters of an hour of treatment and the nap Mom takes immediately after on the treatment table. Yesterday though, once Mom was reclining on the treatment table, I settled at a desk and proceeded to rewrite the page instructions for id49.html Updates. The acupuncturist noticed what I was doing. I mumbled that I was "working on a website" (she knows about Mom & Me but I don't know if she's visited) and the acupuncturist commented, "It's good to see you doing that." I was surprised. I guess it must look like all I do is tend to my mother. Certainly, my attention always leans in her direction. I do other things, though, even as those other things interweave into being my mother's caretaker. Truthfully, I'm not sure this person was making this assumption. I think I've shown myself to be a multi-faceted, thoughtful person with an unusually frank relationship with my mother. But I guess she was startled that I was "doing that", doing something else besides Mother.
Today Mom's new PCP's assistant is hot to get colonoscopy results from Dr. Gordon's office. I wonder if the lab work is back. I wonder if Mom is showing anemic. I wouldn't be surprised, because of the ibuprofen. Several people independent of us have mentioned upon seeing her lately that she looks "good" and she does, even in the intense full sunlight of this house. But I remember last June being fooled by the same look in Mesa. Back then, though, I was feeding her iron three times a day. This produces sanguinity despite anemia. At this time I notice an iron pill might be appropriate maybe once every couple of days. This is usually because of the color of her feet, not her face. Anyway, I certainly hope the doctor isn't making plans to scope her, or do any other invasive testing. If we can get her into gentle physical therapy and get her off the ibuprofen, get her moving again so that I don't have to rely on so much metformin to keep her blood glucose under control, I feel sure her anemia will reverse itself. I also wouldn't be surprised if my mother isn't anemic and if her A1c is in order, as she has resumed regular, almost daily bowel movements, which hasn't been happening for well over a year, maybe more. Now I am beginning to suspect that her extreme incontinence is a bladder or perhaps even a kidney infection, which I will mention to the doctor at our next appointment. The walking, even the little of it we are doing, seems to be improving her internal and external performance dramatically. I'm also now convinced that some of her dementia, certainly it's ebb and flow ,is directly related to two issues: her COPD and her propensity for dehydration. I am sure it is not nutrition related. Nor is it related to substance abuse, well, except for tar and nicotine.
Hmmm, well, I think I'll look in on the lady again and see how I feel about starting her awakened day. She could use some food. I notice that in only a few hours she's shed all the fluid I pushed on her earlier this morning. She'll be a challenge to awaken. She'll need lots of coaxing and I'll have to threaten her into rising off her bed by telling her if she doesn't move a bit she has to drink water. This strategy works well both ways.
The weather has been clear this morning but is definitely working up to something this afternoon. We've both been in the mood for inclement weather. Today, when it begins for her, should be a good day. She was enthralled when I awoke her to see the winterwonderscape before I took one of my infamous "naps". Although much of the snow is gone now, the sky and the weather channel tell me it's coming back. Perhaps by the time she begins to eat, an hour to an hour and a half from now, a cozy storm will have set in, we'll be deciding what dvd to watch (today would be a good I, Claudius day), she'll be requesting peppermint tea...
I just heard her coughing. She may have been semi-aware of me looking in on her. I'll wait 'till I hear more stirring or the cats begin their migration toward The Room of the Waking One. If, however, she decides to sleep a bit longer I think I'll let her. She's on oxygen. She's breathing deeply and evenly. She's not clutching the bed or the bed clothes, she's relying on them.
I'm finding it strange to consider the accomplishments in which I lately take pride. For instance: Since her injury I've been doing her hair once every two or three days. This "doing" includes everything from washing it and stimulating her scalp to treating it with a force of volumizers and stabilizers, drying, curling and styling it. I'm surprised at how well I'm doing. I am, at this time, doing better than one of her regular stylists and I'm doing so by dint of observing the techniques of the other stylist, the one I've dubbed a hair sculptor (which she appreciates and understands, since she is an artist). My mother's hair is not easily styled. She wears it in a back combed, teased, glued helmet including a pastische a la mode. If done well it has been known to last a week. Since I know, though, that she loves to be groomed in any way I decided to take on the entire operation in order to give her a couple of hours every other day or so of intense pleasure-shivering. She is a delight to serve in this way because she wiggles and sighs her way through the experience. I consider it physical therapy. There is something to be said, as well, for my intense and promiscuous native curiosity, which kicked in when I moved in with her, about all aspects of her life, "...just in case." I never thought I'd be doing her hair to the point of wondering how I'd fare in an old fashioned hair styling competition with pieces. I have always loved learning, though, practicing and honing all kinds of skills. Learning how to dress hair well enough to pass for professional is a kick in itself. All areas of body decoration appeal to me and this interest, used on behalf of my mother, allows her to indulge in her native pride, which feeds her vitality.
I do think that if her back's recent improvement remains continues, getting her back to the hair dresser is important. Outings do her quite a bit of good. She tends to overestimate what she can do and disdains the wheelchair but will use it in a flash if I keep it handy, so I do.
Another interesting surprise comment from the acupuncturist yesterday. I took my laptop with me, blissfully mired as I've been in restructuring the Mom & Me website. It's the first time I've "taken" anything to do. I usually scan read books on the specifically and modestly stocked shelf or act as a "conductor" for the half hour to three quarters of an hour of treatment and the nap Mom takes immediately after on the treatment table. Yesterday though, once Mom was reclining on the treatment table, I settled at a desk and proceeded to rewrite the page instructions for id49.html Updates. The acupuncturist noticed what I was doing. I mumbled that I was "working on a website" (she knows about Mom & Me but I don't know if she's visited) and the acupuncturist commented, "It's good to see you doing that." I was surprised. I guess it must look like all I do is tend to my mother. Certainly, my attention always leans in her direction. I do other things, though, even as those other things interweave into being my mother's caretaker. Truthfully, I'm not sure this person was making this assumption. I think I've shown myself to be a multi-faceted, thoughtful person with an unusually frank relationship with my mother. But I guess she was startled that I was "doing that", doing something else besides Mother.
Today Mom's new PCP's assistant is hot to get colonoscopy results from Dr. Gordon's office. I wonder if the lab work is back. I wonder if Mom is showing anemic. I wouldn't be surprised, because of the ibuprofen. Several people independent of us have mentioned upon seeing her lately that she looks "good" and she does, even in the intense full sunlight of this house. But I remember last June being fooled by the same look in Mesa. Back then, though, I was feeding her iron three times a day. This produces sanguinity despite anemia. At this time I notice an iron pill might be appropriate maybe once every couple of days. This is usually because of the color of her feet, not her face. Anyway, I certainly hope the doctor isn't making plans to scope her, or do any other invasive testing. If we can get her into gentle physical therapy and get her off the ibuprofen, get her moving again so that I don't have to rely on so much metformin to keep her blood glucose under control, I feel sure her anemia will reverse itself. I also wouldn't be surprised if my mother isn't anemic and if her A1c is in order, as she has resumed regular, almost daily bowel movements, which hasn't been happening for well over a year, maybe more. Now I am beginning to suspect that her extreme incontinence is a bladder or perhaps even a kidney infection, which I will mention to the doctor at our next appointment. The walking, even the little of it we are doing, seems to be improving her internal and external performance dramatically. I'm also now convinced that some of her dementia, certainly it's ebb and flow ,is directly related to two issues: her COPD and her propensity for dehydration. I am sure it is not nutrition related. Nor is it related to substance abuse, well, except for tar and nicotine.
Hmmm, well, I think I'll look in on the lady again and see how I feel about starting her awakened day. She could use some food. I notice that in only a few hours she's shed all the fluid I pushed on her earlier this morning. She'll be a challenge to awaken. She'll need lots of coaxing and I'll have to threaten her into rising off her bed by telling her if she doesn't move a bit she has to drink water. This strategy works well both ways.
The weather has been clear this morning but is definitely working up to something this afternoon. We've both been in the mood for inclement weather. Today, when it begins for her, should be a good day. She was enthralled when I awoke her to see the winterwonderscape before I took one of my infamous "naps". Although much of the snow is gone now, the sky and the weather channel tell me it's coming back. Perhaps by the time she begins to eat, an hour to an hour and a half from now, a cozy storm will have set in, we'll be deciding what dvd to watch (today would be a good I, Claudius day), she'll be requesting peppermint tea...
