Thursday, January 29, 2004
The thing about taking care of an Ancient One...
...especially an Ancient One whose mind has decided to enjoy a bit of wandering, is that one is forced to take life a day at a time. As one does, 24 hours opens up like 48 or 72 or more. Sometimes in the afternoon, if the tenor of the day has changed drastically as it often does, I will "remember" something that happened that morning as having happened a few days ago.
True to form, today was a stunning turn around from yesterday. As I passed my mother's bedroom at 0900, she was on her elbows, looking around, her eyes wide and clear. "Ready to get up?" I asked.
"May as well. Can't dance."
"Well, you can," I said, "but not here."
With that she was pulling herself toward the edge of the bed.
By 0945 she was clean, dressed and popping her "important" pills of the morning (her metformin, lisinopril, aspirin and whatever ibuprofen we've decided she's going to take...she can scatter her supplements throughout breakfast) with her first mouthful of breakfast. Despite our new washing routine this is record time.
Her new washing routine: It's about two weeks old. When her back began to show enough improvement so that she was no longer using her arms to hold herself up even in a sitting position, I decided it was time for her to begin washing herself again even though she isn't yet ready to get herself in and out of a bathtub. So, while I wash those parts of her that she either can't get to or for some reason has never washed particularly well, she washes her face, arms and front upper torso with stringent direction. She still has a marked tendency to simply swab the wash cloth over skin as though she's trying to set a record. I discovered by accident that when I remind her we are cleaning her because she's been sleeping for the last few hours in her own urine and suggest that she pay attention to cleaning herself the way she would clean a baby who just woke up from a watershed nap, she's inspired. She did so well today, standing up "free hand" (I call it) and washing her torso without having to support herself on the towel rack and/or the shower stall handle that I told her I thought soon she'd be able to shower on her own.
"No showering. I don't like to shower," she said with a recalcitrant edge.
"I know, but I don't think you're ready to sit in a bathtub yet, let alone stand up out of it afterwards. Do you?"
"Well, no, you have a point."
"And you aren't all that happy with being washed by me."
"It's not that bad."
"Not as bad as taking a shower, you mean?"
We both laughed.
"Well, I don't blame you, Mom. That's how I feel about baths. I'd rather have someone bathe me than take a bath in a tub. We'll just continue this way for awhile and see what happens."
And See What Happens: What's happening is that the dramatic improvement I've been hesitantly and optimistically reporting earlier continued today in unusual ways that seem to cement that she really is reviving physically and this time pushing the limit a bit beyond what she did this summer when she cured (or was cured of) her anemia. It has been at least three years since I haven't taken concerned notice of the regular irregularity of her bowel movements and the startling difference between her demeanor hours after she empties her bowels versus days after not emptying her bowels. I have no idea why, within the last 2 weeks, she's become regular again; not only regular but she senses when she has to evacuate and isn't having accidents. This in itself is amazing. It's as though she had a bit more neuropathy than I thought and all of it is reversing itself.
She was significantly more energetic this morning than this afternoon ("energetic" is a relative term when used in regards to my mother; it may indicate, as it did this morning, simply her interest in staying up and observing the world around her). At breakfast we made plans to get out but these didn't materialize, called on account of unexpected snow. The errant, picturesque snow captivated her. She insisted on eating breakfast in the living room so she could watch the it fall. It's been only recently that she's been expressing an interest in what goes on outside except for the level of sunlight. I can remember a time not too long ago when she would have been scandalized if she'd caught herself considering enjoying a snowfall. She's letting more things in, again. I'm not sure how this healing has come about, but it has.
Which brings me to the acupuncturist's appointment. Yesterday, for the first time, I did not chaperone my mother in the treatment room. I used the time to wander around on my own: Directed wandering, yes, errand filled, but alone. I used to do this blissfully when she had her hair appointments. We both enjoyed the respite. It's interesting because I would have been doing this sooner with the acupuncturist appointments if I'd thought I wasn't needed. Except for last week's appointment, the acupuncturist has been using me to muscle test my mother.
When we arrived the sweet, compassionate assistant to the acupuncturist took me aside and delicately asked me if I would mind if she offered me "some perceptions".
Intrigued, I encouraged her.
Please take into consideration, as I continue, that the clinic to which I take my mother is highly reputable, highly technical and, as well, steeped in the arts that tend to carry with them a New Age jargon. I will try to convey the conversation to the best of my ability, while paraphrasing it. I'm in no way making fun of the Alternative Healing Arts patois used in this clinic but I'm concerned that it will seem so. Concepts are understood and expressed in a myriad of ways. The same is true of difficult conversations. It was clear that the assistant thought she might be initiating a difficult conversation.
In an understandable backtracking in which the point came first and then the evolution of the point, she asked me if I would have a problem with leaving my mother alone yesterday to be treated by the acupuncturist. It seems that my rather strong presence might be interfering with my mother's and the acupuncturist's ability to cooperate in her healing.
It is true that the acupuncturist and I had been wondering why my mother was healing so slowly from her perspective. Wonder had, at least a month ago, turned into concern. It's also true that in a second appointment with another of the clinic's healers, although my mother was given the choice of my presence or not and chose my presence at the first appointment, I declined entry into the second because I felt strongly that my presence had interfered with the potential for treatment.
Anyway, I was pretty thrilled that I was being released and completely confident, after this long an observation, that my mother was in capable and caring hands. The assistant felt it necessary to explain that this information, the suggestion that my presence might be interfering with my mother's healing, had been passed on to her through a type of channeling (although she didn't say this, she implied it by referring directly to "Spirit") and she hoped I didn't mind. She was especially gentle and sensitive about the whole issue.
Good Lord! Did I mind?!? Do I ever mind the chance to snatch some alone time and leave my mother in more than competent hands and allow her the possibility of extended socialization with people other than me who love her and see her and relate to her differently than I do? I smiled, not just internally, while the assistant was apologizing for bringing up so delicate a matter, taking care that I please not infer anything from it. I remembered when MPS offered to stay with Mom last year in February over a day and a half while I got away to the other house: I was out of there so fast I forgot to give her pertinent information. But I also knew I was leaving Mom in loving, competent, innovative hands and I was right. All was well. And so were Mom and me.
Mom's healing has taken several unexplained (because she's been unusually and crankily sedentary, lately) dramatic steps in the last week and a half. While I've reported these, I've also been reluctant to believe that they were indicative of anything that might not reverse itself if she doesn't get up and moving soon. I've told her this. But she's persisted. Other evidence of reliable healing has been that despite her therapeutic walks with the wheel chair being few and far between lately, with each one she exhibits remarkably more smoothness, strength and stamina as well as aerobic ability, which is a pleasant surprise. We had planned a walk for today but will probably do it tomorrow. We've got an errand to run as well. She seemed hale and hearty, though tired, tonight. I'm looking forward to what she'll be like in the morning.
Since I wasn't present I don't know what sort of treatment the acupuncturist performed yesterday, although she referred to it as a "new treatment". The help that the acupuncturist is rendering to Mom is so subtle that it's hard to say that it "worked" any more or less than any other treatments. This ambiguity of response has been perplexing both the acupuncturist and me (although not my mother) for a while. What I can state with conviction is that the acupuncturist is one of only three health providers, only one of which is an M.D., who: number one have not harmed her at all and number two have visibly helped her by both relieving her suffering and giving her better access to her native energy. These three people have also, by both direct and indirect suggestion, given me many tips for treating my mother and guiding her through a day that has the best chance to promote healing. They have also made themselves available to discuss any concerns I've had. Most, yes, most of her health providers, including two of her previous PCPs, have rated negative on every single one of the above issues. One of them has the "...and do no harm..." citation prominently displayed in her lobby. And yet....
Well, I've certainly learned a lot about medicine and healing. And it looks, hallelujah, like I'll be learning a lot more.
In case you're wondering, yes, I'm pulling extended days. Today I managed to get in a two hour nap, which is amazing, while Mom was napping. The more she's up, though, the less work she generates. As it turns out, much to her and my surprise, during a mere three hour nap Mom's body went through a major flush. I did, however, throughout the day, really push fluids, as last night she seemed a little dehydrated and this morning was definitely dehydrated.
While it's on my mind I did yet another extended, worded-several-ways search, of 'dehydration' and 'elderly' and 'causes', etc. I'm still not finding anything about why dehydration is an aspect of old-aging. What is it about the aged body that causes it, for instance, to carry, on average, 7 liters less of water than a body half its age? I haven't found the answer. And, is this out-of-the-gate condition deleterious or do we even know, yet?
One thing I do know: By the time the last of us baby boomers has died the world will know a lot more about aging than it does and will probably have redefined it, simply because there are so many of us and medicine will do almost all its geriatric experimentation on us. Does that give you the willies?!?
Don't mean to be abrupt, but it's time.
Later.
True to form, today was a stunning turn around from yesterday. As I passed my mother's bedroom at 0900, she was on her elbows, looking around, her eyes wide and clear. "Ready to get up?" I asked.
"May as well. Can't dance."
"Well, you can," I said, "but not here."
With that she was pulling herself toward the edge of the bed.
By 0945 she was clean, dressed and popping her "important" pills of the morning (her metformin, lisinopril, aspirin and whatever ibuprofen we've decided she's going to take...she can scatter her supplements throughout breakfast) with her first mouthful of breakfast. Despite our new washing routine this is record time.
Her new washing routine: It's about two weeks old. When her back began to show enough improvement so that she was no longer using her arms to hold herself up even in a sitting position, I decided it was time for her to begin washing herself again even though she isn't yet ready to get herself in and out of a bathtub. So, while I wash those parts of her that she either can't get to or for some reason has never washed particularly well, she washes her face, arms and front upper torso with stringent direction. She still has a marked tendency to simply swab the wash cloth over skin as though she's trying to set a record. I discovered by accident that when I remind her we are cleaning her because she's been sleeping for the last few hours in her own urine and suggest that she pay attention to cleaning herself the way she would clean a baby who just woke up from a watershed nap, she's inspired. She did so well today, standing up "free hand" (I call it) and washing her torso without having to support herself on the towel rack and/or the shower stall handle that I told her I thought soon she'd be able to shower on her own.
"No showering. I don't like to shower," she said with a recalcitrant edge.
"I know, but I don't think you're ready to sit in a bathtub yet, let alone stand up out of it afterwards. Do you?"
"Well, no, you have a point."
"And you aren't all that happy with being washed by me."
"It's not that bad."
"Not as bad as taking a shower, you mean?"
We both laughed.
"Well, I don't blame you, Mom. That's how I feel about baths. I'd rather have someone bathe me than take a bath in a tub. We'll just continue this way for awhile and see what happens."
And See What Happens: What's happening is that the dramatic improvement I've been hesitantly and optimistically reporting earlier continued today in unusual ways that seem to cement that she really is reviving physically and this time pushing the limit a bit beyond what she did this summer when she cured (or was cured of) her anemia. It has been at least three years since I haven't taken concerned notice of the regular irregularity of her bowel movements and the startling difference between her demeanor hours after she empties her bowels versus days after not emptying her bowels. I have no idea why, within the last 2 weeks, she's become regular again; not only regular but she senses when she has to evacuate and isn't having accidents. This in itself is amazing. It's as though she had a bit more neuropathy than I thought and all of it is reversing itself.
She was significantly more energetic this morning than this afternoon ("energetic" is a relative term when used in regards to my mother; it may indicate, as it did this morning, simply her interest in staying up and observing the world around her). At breakfast we made plans to get out but these didn't materialize, called on account of unexpected snow. The errant, picturesque snow captivated her. She insisted on eating breakfast in the living room so she could watch the it fall. It's been only recently that she's been expressing an interest in what goes on outside except for the level of sunlight. I can remember a time not too long ago when she would have been scandalized if she'd caught herself considering enjoying a snowfall. She's letting more things in, again. I'm not sure how this healing has come about, but it has.
Which brings me to the acupuncturist's appointment. Yesterday, for the first time, I did not chaperone my mother in the treatment room. I used the time to wander around on my own: Directed wandering, yes, errand filled, but alone. I used to do this blissfully when she had her hair appointments. We both enjoyed the respite. It's interesting because I would have been doing this sooner with the acupuncturist appointments if I'd thought I wasn't needed. Except for last week's appointment, the acupuncturist has been using me to muscle test my mother.
When we arrived the sweet, compassionate assistant to the acupuncturist took me aside and delicately asked me if I would mind if she offered me "some perceptions".
Intrigued, I encouraged her.
Please take into consideration, as I continue, that the clinic to which I take my mother is highly reputable, highly technical and, as well, steeped in the arts that tend to carry with them a New Age jargon. I will try to convey the conversation to the best of my ability, while paraphrasing it. I'm in no way making fun of the Alternative Healing Arts patois used in this clinic but I'm concerned that it will seem so. Concepts are understood and expressed in a myriad of ways. The same is true of difficult conversations. It was clear that the assistant thought she might be initiating a difficult conversation.
In an understandable backtracking in which the point came first and then the evolution of the point, she asked me if I would have a problem with leaving my mother alone yesterday to be treated by the acupuncturist. It seems that my rather strong presence might be interfering with my mother's and the acupuncturist's ability to cooperate in her healing.
It is true that the acupuncturist and I had been wondering why my mother was healing so slowly from her perspective. Wonder had, at least a month ago, turned into concern. It's also true that in a second appointment with another of the clinic's healers, although my mother was given the choice of my presence or not and chose my presence at the first appointment, I declined entry into the second because I felt strongly that my presence had interfered with the potential for treatment.
Anyway, I was pretty thrilled that I was being released and completely confident, after this long an observation, that my mother was in capable and caring hands. The assistant felt it necessary to explain that this information, the suggestion that my presence might be interfering with my mother's healing, had been passed on to her through a type of channeling (although she didn't say this, she implied it by referring directly to "Spirit") and she hoped I didn't mind. She was especially gentle and sensitive about the whole issue.
Good Lord! Did I mind?!? Do I ever mind the chance to snatch some alone time and leave my mother in more than competent hands and allow her the possibility of extended socialization with people other than me who love her and see her and relate to her differently than I do? I smiled, not just internally, while the assistant was apologizing for bringing up so delicate a matter, taking care that I please not infer anything from it. I remembered when MPS offered to stay with Mom last year in February over a day and a half while I got away to the other house: I was out of there so fast I forgot to give her pertinent information. But I also knew I was leaving Mom in loving, competent, innovative hands and I was right. All was well. And so were Mom and me.
Mom's healing has taken several unexplained (because she's been unusually and crankily sedentary, lately) dramatic steps in the last week and a half. While I've reported these, I've also been reluctant to believe that they were indicative of anything that might not reverse itself if she doesn't get up and moving soon. I've told her this. But she's persisted. Other evidence of reliable healing has been that despite her therapeutic walks with the wheel chair being few and far between lately, with each one she exhibits remarkably more smoothness, strength and stamina as well as aerobic ability, which is a pleasant surprise. We had planned a walk for today but will probably do it tomorrow. We've got an errand to run as well. She seemed hale and hearty, though tired, tonight. I'm looking forward to what she'll be like in the morning.
Since I wasn't present I don't know what sort of treatment the acupuncturist performed yesterday, although she referred to it as a "new treatment". The help that the acupuncturist is rendering to Mom is so subtle that it's hard to say that it "worked" any more or less than any other treatments. This ambiguity of response has been perplexing both the acupuncturist and me (although not my mother) for a while. What I can state with conviction is that the acupuncturist is one of only three health providers, only one of which is an M.D., who: number one have not harmed her at all and number two have visibly helped her by both relieving her suffering and giving her better access to her native energy. These three people have also, by both direct and indirect suggestion, given me many tips for treating my mother and guiding her through a day that has the best chance to promote healing. They have also made themselves available to discuss any concerns I've had. Most, yes, most of her health providers, including two of her previous PCPs, have rated negative on every single one of the above issues. One of them has the "...and do no harm..." citation prominently displayed in her lobby. And yet....
Well, I've certainly learned a lot about medicine and healing. And it looks, hallelujah, like I'll be learning a lot more.
In case you're wondering, yes, I'm pulling extended days. Today I managed to get in a two hour nap, which is amazing, while Mom was napping. The more she's up, though, the less work she generates. As it turns out, much to her and my surprise, during a mere three hour nap Mom's body went through a major flush. I did, however, throughout the day, really push fluids, as last night she seemed a little dehydrated and this morning was definitely dehydrated.
While it's on my mind I did yet another extended, worded-several-ways search, of 'dehydration' and 'elderly' and 'causes', etc. I'm still not finding anything about why dehydration is an aspect of old-aging. What is it about the aged body that causes it, for instance, to carry, on average, 7 liters less of water than a body half its age? I haven't found the answer. And, is this out-of-the-gate condition deleterious or do we even know, yet?
One thing I do know: By the time the last of us baby boomers has died the world will know a lot more about aging than it does and will probably have redefined it, simply because there are so many of us and medicine will do almost all its geriatric experimentation on us. Does that give you the willies?!?
Don't mean to be abrupt, but it's time.
Later.
