Monday, March 15, 2004
I might be rushing us, this morning...
...but that shouldn't be a problem. As soon as I remind my mother that we have a PT appointment just up the street she'll move quickly (for her). I'll box step around her, setting up and breaking down the house before and after her, we'll both get a shot of those energetic endorphins. Yes, even at her slow level of movement a jolt of intense (relatively speaking) movement enlivens her and moves her past whatever chronic joint pains slow her down just like in middle age. We'll do fine.
A few weeks ago when MCF, her daughter and her "adopted" daughter were here and I described, in fairly specific detail, the type of therapy Mom would be receiving, MCF's daughter recognized it as the type of therapy she'd had. "Be prepared for your Mom to hurt immediately after the treatments," she warned me. I reminded her that this was supposed to be "very gentle neuromuscular reeducation" and she responded, "yeah, that's what they told me, but I had to sleep away the aching after every appointment. It did help, though," I remember her saying.
Today will be an evaluation and treatment recommendation appointment. There will be paperwork. I imagine I will be attending on the entire appointment although I want to be sure and make it clear that I am amenable to walking down the hill back home and leaving her in the LPT's care if that would work. Although my mother isn't aware of it, my mere presence in a room can sometimes distract her from falling fully into a healing treatment. She doesn't, however, miss me when I absent myself.
After The Overnight Hospital Stay in September of 2002 I am much more savvy about judging a situation to be dangerous to my mother if she's left alone. I had been with her constantly since her arrival there through the emergency room and took all the recommended steps at that hospital that evening to ensure she would be well cared for in my absence. When they forgot her dinner tray except at my reminding I was suspicious so I interviewed the evening nursing staff, indicated certain disabilities that would make her a labor intensive client and was assured that she would be fine alone. Well, in a sense they were right. Her mental fogginess saved her because my mother neither registered nor remembered the verbal abuse to which she was subjected that night courtesy of one of the nurses but the incident scared her aware, alert roommate who complained to the hospital administrator's office the next day. Now I know that industrial care centers, including hospitals, are tricky and dangerous in which to leave my mother unattended. Often, though, it is beneficial to my mother for me to leave the area of one-on-one healing care.
Ah, well, I need to jump back into time and rouse my ancient one.
Later.
A few weeks ago when MCF, her daughter and her "adopted" daughter were here and I described, in fairly specific detail, the type of therapy Mom would be receiving, MCF's daughter recognized it as the type of therapy she'd had. "Be prepared for your Mom to hurt immediately after the treatments," she warned me. I reminded her that this was supposed to be "very gentle neuromuscular reeducation" and she responded, "yeah, that's what they told me, but I had to sleep away the aching after every appointment. It did help, though," I remember her saying.
Today will be an evaluation and treatment recommendation appointment. There will be paperwork. I imagine I will be attending on the entire appointment although I want to be sure and make it clear that I am amenable to walking down the hill back home and leaving her in the LPT's care if that would work. Although my mother isn't aware of it, my mere presence in a room can sometimes distract her from falling fully into a healing treatment. She doesn't, however, miss me when I absent myself.
After The Overnight Hospital Stay in September of 2002 I am much more savvy about judging a situation to be dangerous to my mother if she's left alone. I had been with her constantly since her arrival there through the emergency room and took all the recommended steps at that hospital that evening to ensure she would be well cared for in my absence. When they forgot her dinner tray except at my reminding I was suspicious so I interviewed the evening nursing staff, indicated certain disabilities that would make her a labor intensive client and was assured that she would be fine alone. Well, in a sense they were right. Her mental fogginess saved her because my mother neither registered nor remembered the verbal abuse to which she was subjected that night courtesy of one of the nurses but the incident scared her aware, alert roommate who complained to the hospital administrator's office the next day. Now I know that industrial care centers, including hospitals, are tricky and dangerous in which to leave my mother unattended. Often, though, it is beneficial to my mother for me to leave the area of one-on-one healing care.
Ah, well, I need to jump back into time and rouse my ancient one.
Later.
