Sunday, March 28, 2004
I never know...
...when I insist on getting her out against her will whether she'll appreciate it. Most of the time she does. Occasionally she doesn't. I need to pay more attention to the signals that will tell me when she isn't going to appreciate the trip once it's over. I could have used those signals today.
We made it to Costco although we may as well not have gone. The day was milder than I expected so I thought the weather, at least, would be in our favor. The chairs I wanted my mother to see and approve were displayed up front just inside the door. I was pleased, considering that Mom, although having thought last night that this trip would be a good idea, felt exactly the opposite this morning and it was only through several hours of pleading, cajoling, working her up with a hot game of Sorry and promising that she could ride in the wheelchair the entire trip if she wanted (she did, though, use it as a walker) that I managed to get us both out the door around 1400. She'd awakened on time, for her, which is usually a good indication that a particular day is going to be an active day. She hadn't slogged through bathing and breakfast, in fact she ate in record time, about which both of us commented. So, I thought, at the end of the day she'd be glad I harassed her into getting out.
I was absolutely wrong. She nixed the chairs immediately. She gave no good reason so I know she was nixing the entire trip. Once she'd decided against the chairs (a decision I will reverse) I suggested that she might want to prowl for samples.
"Do you have something else to get here?" she demanded.
"No, I just thought you might want to check out the samples. How about lunch?"
"I'm not hungry. I believe I'm about ready to go home."
So the extent of our trip was riding to Costco, walking the wheelchair just inside the Costco entrance, walking the wheelchair back out the entrance to Costco to the car and riding home.
Within a half hour of arriving home she was in bed. She slept until just after 1800, awakening on her own. After this morning there was no way I was going to interfere any more in her assertion of her needs today. She was up for dinner (she had only two meals today), some intense TV watching and went to bed about a half hour ago. I let her retire regardless of the amount of sleep in which she indulged today. I figure when I am as unsuccessful as I was today at jostling her into movement her body must know better than me.
Sometimes I feel as though I am torturing my mother when I back off and let her sleep almost as much as she'd like. Sometimes I feel as though I am torturing her when I don't let her sleep as much as she'd like and don't give her a choice about whether she's going to get out of the house on a particular day. When I think about how I would feel having someone order my days the way I order my mother's, well, I realize I'm talking about a state in which I can't imagine myself. Thus, being at my 'disposal', as it were, is probably a state in which my mother probably never imagined herself. I am also thinking that because she has done Ordering of the Days type of nurturing raising her children it is probably easier to accept being the object of it knowing, intimately, that at times human beings really aren't capable of knowing what the hell is good for them. I hope that the experience of having delivered this kind of care to my mother will make it easy for me to accept it if I am ever in a position of needing it. I hope, too, whomever delivers it is at least as deft and as flexible at it as I am with my mother.
Some tips for my future caregiver: Even when caring for someone who will not remember what you say, let alone understand it, when you are handling someone's life it doesn't help to keep secrets either accidentally or by design. It doesn't help to make decisions without discussing issues with them. It doesn't help to deny a conflict of opinion or interest when one crops up.
Hmmm...interesting perspective on what I'm doing: Tips for My Future Caregiver. I'll have to remember to muse and write from that perspective more often. It might change some of my ways of doing things for my mother if I look at it from the perspective of my future as a ward.
We made it to Costco although we may as well not have gone. The day was milder than I expected so I thought the weather, at least, would be in our favor. The chairs I wanted my mother to see and approve were displayed up front just inside the door. I was pleased, considering that Mom, although having thought last night that this trip would be a good idea, felt exactly the opposite this morning and it was only through several hours of pleading, cajoling, working her up with a hot game of Sorry and promising that she could ride in the wheelchair the entire trip if she wanted (she did, though, use it as a walker) that I managed to get us both out the door around 1400. She'd awakened on time, for her, which is usually a good indication that a particular day is going to be an active day. She hadn't slogged through bathing and breakfast, in fact she ate in record time, about which both of us commented. So, I thought, at the end of the day she'd be glad I harassed her into getting out.
I was absolutely wrong. She nixed the chairs immediately. She gave no good reason so I know she was nixing the entire trip. Once she'd decided against the chairs (a decision I will reverse) I suggested that she might want to prowl for samples.
"Do you have something else to get here?" she demanded.
"No, I just thought you might want to check out the samples. How about lunch?"
"I'm not hungry. I believe I'm about ready to go home."
So the extent of our trip was riding to Costco, walking the wheelchair just inside the Costco entrance, walking the wheelchair back out the entrance to Costco to the car and riding home.
Within a half hour of arriving home she was in bed. She slept until just after 1800, awakening on her own. After this morning there was no way I was going to interfere any more in her assertion of her needs today. She was up for dinner (she had only two meals today), some intense TV watching and went to bed about a half hour ago. I let her retire regardless of the amount of sleep in which she indulged today. I figure when I am as unsuccessful as I was today at jostling her into movement her body must know better than me.
Sometimes I feel as though I am torturing my mother when I back off and let her sleep almost as much as she'd like. Sometimes I feel as though I am torturing her when I don't let her sleep as much as she'd like and don't give her a choice about whether she's going to get out of the house on a particular day. When I think about how I would feel having someone order my days the way I order my mother's, well, I realize I'm talking about a state in which I can't imagine myself. Thus, being at my 'disposal', as it were, is probably a state in which my mother probably never imagined herself. I am also thinking that because she has done Ordering of the Days type of nurturing raising her children it is probably easier to accept being the object of it knowing, intimately, that at times human beings really aren't capable of knowing what the hell is good for them. I hope that the experience of having delivered this kind of care to my mother will make it easy for me to accept it if I am ever in a position of needing it. I hope, too, whomever delivers it is at least as deft and as flexible at it as I am with my mother.
Some tips for my future caregiver: Even when caring for someone who will not remember what you say, let alone understand it, when you are handling someone's life it doesn't help to keep secrets either accidentally or by design. It doesn't help to make decisions without discussing issues with them. It doesn't help to deny a conflict of opinion or interest when one crops up.
Hmmm...interesting perspective on what I'm doing: Tips for My Future Caregiver. I'll have to remember to muse and write from that perspective more often. It might change some of my ways of doing things for my mother if I look at it from the perspective of my future as a ward.
