Monday, March 15, 2004
I haven't anything specific to report...just a conscious stream:
Mom has retired. I got a short (45 minute) nap in on the floor this evening. It surprised both of us. Lately I've tended to remain in constant movement until I begin to reel, then drop where I am like an animal, take a short, deep snooze then arise and move again. Neither Mom nor I realized I'd fallen asleep until I woke up toward the end of the program we'd been watching.
Some of my instant somnolence is related to the lifting of a huge concern of mine throughout this back injury adventure: How debilitated is my mother and how much will she be likely to recover? I am more relieved than I imagined to discover that the chances are better than good that much about her physical presence over the last few years is correctable and improvable. As well, her muscles are still old dogs capable of new tricks. I am so grateful to realize this. Today, talking to MPS and quickly encapsulating what had happened to us since our visit with them over Christmas, after ending with a felicitous rendering of some of the information I gleaned during Mom's PT appointment today, I spontaneously blurted, "You should be honored to be one of this woman's descendants."
Without hesitation she responded, effusively, "I am. I am."
"I know," I said. "I just needed to say it out loud."
"I know. I know."
I'm flabbergasted to look back on the last 5 months and realize how perfect the timing of everything was despite my numerous (sometimes approaching Drama Queen) frustrations. It has only been in the last two weeks that Mom has seemed able to tolerate the increased physical stress of laying on her back for treatments. She requires more oxygen but when she is breathing comfortably she not only tolerates treatment, she relaxes to the point of snoozing. This is especially advantageous for both the acupuncturist and the LPT.
I haven't mentioned this, but for those who are interested in looking it up, the specific name of the technique she is using on Mom is Feldenkrais. During some of Mom's earlier acupuncture appointments I learned about it from idly reading newsletters then scan reading a book about the technique I found in one of the acunpuncture treatment center libraries. I was impressed with the way the book talked about body sense, movement and deliberate (vs. inadvertent) body education. Some of the book storyboarded the development of some of the techniques that have become standard, including the elaborate history of a stroke victim who served as a particularly useful (not to mention grateful) subject of experimentation. Then, Mom's acupuncturist recommended a Feldenkrais LPT.
I can't say that Mom is moving remarkably easier tonight but she is talking about her back in a different way when the subject comes up. As she ascended the two stairs toward the bathroom and I asked her how her back felt, it looked like she was screwing herself up into her usual, ironic, "It's still there." She paused, though, concentrated on her back and said, "I think it might be a little better, tonight."
Since the appointment I have more confidence in following my mother's dictates about, for instance, whether she is dehydrating. Hydration is a tricky thing in the elderly. During the worst of her recovery period I often wondered if the body needed to keep her at a lower hydration level in order to promote some internal healing. I never addressed this with a physician. I also kept the water flowing through her. Now, though, her body is more apt to absorb it and use it for awhile before passing it through so I'm trusting her own sense of thirst (which seems to be improving) a little more.
Her color has looked very good today despite that she accidentally received only half her dose of iron. She has dozed a lot today but not enough to call it a Method Nap. She fully participated in the phone call with MPS about their visit this week and sounded, from my end, as though she was talking to her cousins and peers in Iowa. I am so pleased that we are having lots of company, this week. Timing is everything.
I am feeling a deep, visceral sense of satisfaction. I can trust the immortality of her spirit. She'll die, but she'll be here for a long time. She loves it here.
When we're watching The Animal Planet channel I'll tease her about in what form we'll reincarnate. Both of us would prefer to come back as animals (or another form of existence). I'm still trying to convince her that it might be interesting to be dung beetles for a life. We both agree, though, that being born female into an elephant matriarchy before elephants were poached would be an agreeable life.
I'll decide in the morning which of us will take the acupuncture appointment tomorrow afternoon. I think I might need it worse than she but we'll see. I'll be scrutinizing her in the morning for signs that she could use a palliative needling. Frankly, though, these thumbs need to be punctured, again. So at this point it's six of one...
We are planning a trip to Costco as well, to pick up a few more roses. MPS and her daughter want to do yard work so that's what we'll do. The weather will be beautiful. I think everyone will be in good spirits.
What a day. I'm stoked. And tired. Later.
Some of my instant somnolence is related to the lifting of a huge concern of mine throughout this back injury adventure: How debilitated is my mother and how much will she be likely to recover? I am more relieved than I imagined to discover that the chances are better than good that much about her physical presence over the last few years is correctable and improvable. As well, her muscles are still old dogs capable of new tricks. I am so grateful to realize this. Today, talking to MPS and quickly encapsulating what had happened to us since our visit with them over Christmas, after ending with a felicitous rendering of some of the information I gleaned during Mom's PT appointment today, I spontaneously blurted, "You should be honored to be one of this woman's descendants."
Without hesitation she responded, effusively, "I am. I am."
"I know," I said. "I just needed to say it out loud."
"I know. I know."
I'm flabbergasted to look back on the last 5 months and realize how perfect the timing of everything was despite my numerous (sometimes approaching Drama Queen) frustrations. It has only been in the last two weeks that Mom has seemed able to tolerate the increased physical stress of laying on her back for treatments. She requires more oxygen but when she is breathing comfortably she not only tolerates treatment, she relaxes to the point of snoozing. This is especially advantageous for both the acupuncturist and the LPT.
I haven't mentioned this, but for those who are interested in looking it up, the specific name of the technique she is using on Mom is Feldenkrais. During some of Mom's earlier acupuncture appointments I learned about it from idly reading newsletters then scan reading a book about the technique I found in one of the acunpuncture treatment center libraries. I was impressed with the way the book talked about body sense, movement and deliberate (vs. inadvertent) body education. Some of the book storyboarded the development of some of the techniques that have become standard, including the elaborate history of a stroke victim who served as a particularly useful (not to mention grateful) subject of experimentation. Then, Mom's acupuncturist recommended a Feldenkrais LPT.
I can't say that Mom is moving remarkably easier tonight but she is talking about her back in a different way when the subject comes up. As she ascended the two stairs toward the bathroom and I asked her how her back felt, it looked like she was screwing herself up into her usual, ironic, "It's still there." She paused, though, concentrated on her back and said, "I think it might be a little better, tonight."
Since the appointment I have more confidence in following my mother's dictates about, for instance, whether she is dehydrating. Hydration is a tricky thing in the elderly. During the worst of her recovery period I often wondered if the body needed to keep her at a lower hydration level in order to promote some internal healing. I never addressed this with a physician. I also kept the water flowing through her. Now, though, her body is more apt to absorb it and use it for awhile before passing it through so I'm trusting her own sense of thirst (which seems to be improving) a little more.
Her color has looked very good today despite that she accidentally received only half her dose of iron. She has dozed a lot today but not enough to call it a Method Nap. She fully participated in the phone call with MPS about their visit this week and sounded, from my end, as though she was talking to her cousins and peers in Iowa. I am so pleased that we are having lots of company, this week. Timing is everything.
I am feeling a deep, visceral sense of satisfaction. I can trust the immortality of her spirit. She'll die, but she'll be here for a long time. She loves it here.
When we're watching The Animal Planet channel I'll tease her about in what form we'll reincarnate. Both of us would prefer to come back as animals (or another form of existence). I'm still trying to convince her that it might be interesting to be dung beetles for a life. We both agree, though, that being born female into an elephant matriarchy before elephants were poached would be an agreeable life.
I'll decide in the morning which of us will take the acupuncture appointment tomorrow afternoon. I think I might need it worse than she but we'll see. I'll be scrutinizing her in the morning for signs that she could use a palliative needling. Frankly, though, these thumbs need to be punctured, again. So at this point it's six of one...
We are planning a trip to Costco as well, to pick up a few more roses. MPS and her daughter want to do yard work so that's what we'll do. The weather will be beautiful. I think everyone will be in good spirits.
What a day. I'm stoked. And tired. Later.
