Monday, April 12, 2004
Everyone, at some time or another, was at Mom's beck and call, yesterday...
...and she was a magnanimous Mistress (sometimes closer to Mystress). She was gently and continually feted all day by this one or that one as attentions passed from person to person. She was so much a part of the family of each family she visited that when she was hailed from the periphery of other visits and events she'd wander comfortably on her own, more than trusting, knowing that she was surrounded by a safety net.
She (and I), had such a good time visiting our South Chandler Long Time Chosen Family that we stayed and stayed and everyone delayed their Blood Family plans. When I finally, reluctantly suggested we depart in order to give ourselves some visiting time with MPS and her family Mom smiled cockily, waved me toward the door and said, "You go. I'll stay here," as she leaned across the table toward MCF.
Just prior to the time she went offline in her favorite rocker at MPS's house she announced that, "...it's about time for us to be going home." She's so funny that way. Knowing what she was really saying was, "I need a nap and I can't remember if I can nap comfortably here." I reminded her that dinner was a couple of hours away...
...to which she reared back and replied, "Dinner!?! Then what was all this?!?"
MPS had loaded her table with savory, healthy appetizers, even made a bowl of black-bean corn pico de gallo without cilantro for me, at which Mom settled immediately upon arrival and lunched out. I medicated her judiciously without disturbing the routine to stab and number her. I gave her a few iron pills. Her back bothered her although it didn't keep her from moving. I gave her acetaminophen yesterday. I've continually forgotten to use acetaminophen with her. I didn't want to give her more aspirin yesterday nor ibuprofen. Luckily, MPS had acetaminophen. That stuff doesn't work well on me but it banished Mom's back ache so MPS sent me home with a bag full of it to tide us over until I remember to put it on a grocery list.
It may seem curious that our homes were not equipped with acetaminophen. This was strictly my doing. I don't react to it and am plagued with an hour or two of irritating cotton mouth besides. Mom responds so well to any pain reliever and takes pain relievers of any type so rarely that before intestinal tract irritation became something to avoid in case it was to blame, in part, for her recurring anemia, I'd just grab the nearest analgesic, which was either aspirin or ibuprofen.
She is now, I think, thank god/God/all, properly medicated, neither under nor over, although it is apparent to me that there should be more benign options for Type 2 diabetics who are non-insulin dependent and not likely to become so. I've been scolded for what has been described as my "cavalier" attitude toward medications but what I'm doing works and what every non-alternative physician has recommended has not. And, I've done the research.
I was well blessed by my families yesterday, as everyone recalled my complaining about chocolate and fecal accidents. Mom consumed only one piece of chocolate, didn't miss the lack of more and didn't ask for another. Our Chosen Family couldn't resist adding two chocolate bunnies to our baskets but I don't consider those an offense. As well, an arm of their family hunts. When MCF and I became involved in an intense discussion about how we are now eating significantly more red meat, especially beef, she produced some buffalo steaks and ground elk for us to take home, even higher sources of the most effective iron a human can receive. And some pork sausage. My mother followed this conversation and is game (oooh, not intended, sorry) to try the meat. MCF gave me some tips on cooking it. I think we're going to make a pot of elk chili, maybe also have some burgers. The cube steaks, she says, make excellent chicken friend steak which Mom loves (not my favorite but I just won't bread my piece).
By default, Mom ate primarily vegetarian yesterday because she ate so many snacks she wasn't that interested in meals. I tried to get her to eat a little more of the succulent pork roast and was only moderately successful. She honed in on her salad and potato, though, so I must be doing something right at home.
She forgot to smoke at MPS's house. I was thrilled. She got in enough social smoking at MCS's house to awaken the late 1930's early 1940's sassy, not so innocent, not so harmless ingenue. That was fun the entire day. At one point in the evening Mom, MCS and I did a riff on Mom's suggestion, "Why don't I take you (MCS) up to Prescott and leave her (me) here? You're more fun," expressing her displeasure at me monitoring everything down to her underwear while trying to be unobtrusive about it. Later, continuing the riff in the car, Mom decided MCS would allow her more chocolate (MCS's enforced, as much as possible, absence of chocolate was so far in the background as to be unnoticeable to Mom), would not constantly be hounding her about her underwear or going to the bathroom, and, I added, would probably just be more fun in general. Mom agreed. We laughed all the way up the mountain.
By the time we reached home Mom's back was bothering her significantly. She was wiggling in the seat, took off her jacket at one point which didn't help, etc. She accepted toast and two extra strength acetaminophen. I told her I'd let her sleep in this morning, probably not past noon, maybe not past 1100. That was agreeable to her. Even though she still has to be to be consciously reminded to move, her body, thanks to the FT, has become aware of its need for movement and she is much less likely to stay in bed after her first reconnaissance cough.
I have no idea what's in store for us today except a few more rose bush holes. Since these will be planted out back in the former garden areas where the soil is richer and less rocky, I should be able to get most of them planted. I'll be putting two on the former greenhouse platform up in the forested section just for fun. It has occurred to me that animals may nibble on them but, well, if necessary, I'll protect them with short fences and netting. That area was developed at one time. I'd like to take advantage of its all day full sun positioning and rich soil. I've decided to allow the climber to wander over the wooden thick wooden posts implanted in the ground to keep people from falling into the wash culvert. People won't be tempted to sit on the posts. The soil there and in the former garden bed is rich, should go deep and be easy to dig.
Yesterday, which was, by the way, a perfect day, upper 70's at it's height, seductively windy, unusually blue sky, as Mom and I were driving from MCF's house to MPS's house she initiated a shared reverie about how different it was to drive around the Phoenix Metroplex and how nice it is to have the contrast to Prescott available to us. How lucky for us, she continued, that we had reasons to revisit the Valley desert. We enthusiastically discussed that we'll have to take another trip down there in a couple of days to pick up our taxes. We planned activities around that goal...eating lunch out, picking up the wheelbarrow at the house down there, maybe checking out Lowe's to see if they carry arbors or jointed screen trellises at a reasonable price. Last night, though, upon remembering the planned trip (she was unusually sharp yesterday for a variety of reasons, most of which I am aware and will try to remember to enumerate) she said, dreadfully, "How long do we have to be down there?"
I understood. "Mom, we can just pick up the packet and head back up the mountain, if you want."
"Do I have to go?"
"Yes. You have to go." If for no other reason than to keep her in face contact with her personal business. A name with a face.
"Well, let's not skip lunch before we come back home." Good sign.
I think if I'm sensitive to her acetaminophen intake throughout that day she should fare better physically. We'll take the sedan. We'll postpone the trip until the last day, April 15th. That way she'll have some time to recuperate and an FT appointment before the trip.
Sometimes I look at her and think, "I wouldn't be surprised if she died tonight." At other times I wonder, "Is she really immortal?" I've generously experienced both within the last 24 hours.
I hear a cough. I'd better see what's happening.
Happy Easter.
Yes.
Later.
She (and I), had such a good time visiting our South Chandler Long Time Chosen Family that we stayed and stayed and everyone delayed their Blood Family plans. When I finally, reluctantly suggested we depart in order to give ourselves some visiting time with MPS and her family Mom smiled cockily, waved me toward the door and said, "You go. I'll stay here," as she leaned across the table toward MCF.
Just prior to the time she went offline in her favorite rocker at MPS's house she announced that, "...it's about time for us to be going home." She's so funny that way. Knowing what she was really saying was, "I need a nap and I can't remember if I can nap comfortably here." I reminded her that dinner was a couple of hours away...
...to which she reared back and replied, "Dinner!?! Then what was all this?!?"
MPS had loaded her table with savory, healthy appetizers, even made a bowl of black-bean corn pico de gallo without cilantro for me, at which Mom settled immediately upon arrival and lunched out. I medicated her judiciously without disturbing the routine to stab and number her. I gave her a few iron pills. Her back bothered her although it didn't keep her from moving. I gave her acetaminophen yesterday. I've continually forgotten to use acetaminophen with her. I didn't want to give her more aspirin yesterday nor ibuprofen. Luckily, MPS had acetaminophen. That stuff doesn't work well on me but it banished Mom's back ache so MPS sent me home with a bag full of it to tide us over until I remember to put it on a grocery list.
It may seem curious that our homes were not equipped with acetaminophen. This was strictly my doing. I don't react to it and am plagued with an hour or two of irritating cotton mouth besides. Mom responds so well to any pain reliever and takes pain relievers of any type so rarely that before intestinal tract irritation became something to avoid in case it was to blame, in part, for her recurring anemia, I'd just grab the nearest analgesic, which was either aspirin or ibuprofen.
She is now, I think, thank god/God/all, properly medicated, neither under nor over, although it is apparent to me that there should be more benign options for Type 2 diabetics who are non-insulin dependent and not likely to become so. I've been scolded for what has been described as my "cavalier" attitude toward medications but what I'm doing works and what every non-alternative physician has recommended has not. And, I've done the research.
I was well blessed by my families yesterday, as everyone recalled my complaining about chocolate and fecal accidents. Mom consumed only one piece of chocolate, didn't miss the lack of more and didn't ask for another. Our Chosen Family couldn't resist adding two chocolate bunnies to our baskets but I don't consider those an offense. As well, an arm of their family hunts. When MCF and I became involved in an intense discussion about how we are now eating significantly more red meat, especially beef, she produced some buffalo steaks and ground elk for us to take home, even higher sources of the most effective iron a human can receive. And some pork sausage. My mother followed this conversation and is game (oooh, not intended, sorry) to try the meat. MCF gave me some tips on cooking it. I think we're going to make a pot of elk chili, maybe also have some burgers. The cube steaks, she says, make excellent chicken friend steak which Mom loves (not my favorite but I just won't bread my piece).
By default, Mom ate primarily vegetarian yesterday because she ate so many snacks she wasn't that interested in meals. I tried to get her to eat a little more of the succulent pork roast and was only moderately successful. She honed in on her salad and potato, though, so I must be doing something right at home.
She forgot to smoke at MPS's house. I was thrilled. She got in enough social smoking at MCS's house to awaken the late 1930's early 1940's sassy, not so innocent, not so harmless ingenue. That was fun the entire day. At one point in the evening Mom, MCS and I did a riff on Mom's suggestion, "Why don't I take you (MCS) up to Prescott and leave her (me) here? You're more fun," expressing her displeasure at me monitoring everything down to her underwear while trying to be unobtrusive about it. Later, continuing the riff in the car, Mom decided MCS would allow her more chocolate (MCS's enforced, as much as possible, absence of chocolate was so far in the background as to be unnoticeable to Mom), would not constantly be hounding her about her underwear or going to the bathroom, and, I added, would probably just be more fun in general. Mom agreed. We laughed all the way up the mountain.
By the time we reached home Mom's back was bothering her significantly. She was wiggling in the seat, took off her jacket at one point which didn't help, etc. She accepted toast and two extra strength acetaminophen. I told her I'd let her sleep in this morning, probably not past noon, maybe not past 1100. That was agreeable to her. Even though she still has to be to be consciously reminded to move, her body, thanks to the FT, has become aware of its need for movement and she is much less likely to stay in bed after her first reconnaissance cough.
I have no idea what's in store for us today except a few more rose bush holes. Since these will be planted out back in the former garden areas where the soil is richer and less rocky, I should be able to get most of them planted. I'll be putting two on the former greenhouse platform up in the forested section just for fun. It has occurred to me that animals may nibble on them but, well, if necessary, I'll protect them with short fences and netting. That area was developed at one time. I'd like to take advantage of its all day full sun positioning and rich soil. I've decided to allow the climber to wander over the wooden thick wooden posts implanted in the ground to keep people from falling into the wash culvert. People won't be tempted to sit on the posts. The soil there and in the former garden bed is rich, should go deep and be easy to dig.
Yesterday, which was, by the way, a perfect day, upper 70's at it's height, seductively windy, unusually blue sky, as Mom and I were driving from MCF's house to MPS's house she initiated a shared reverie about how different it was to drive around the Phoenix Metroplex and how nice it is to have the contrast to Prescott available to us. How lucky for us, she continued, that we had reasons to revisit the Valley desert. We enthusiastically discussed that we'll have to take another trip down there in a couple of days to pick up our taxes. We planned activities around that goal...eating lunch out, picking up the wheelbarrow at the house down there, maybe checking out Lowe's to see if they carry arbors or jointed screen trellises at a reasonable price. Last night, though, upon remembering the planned trip (she was unusually sharp yesterday for a variety of reasons, most of which I am aware and will try to remember to enumerate) she said, dreadfully, "How long do we have to be down there?"
I understood. "Mom, we can just pick up the packet and head back up the mountain, if you want."
"Do I have to go?"
"Yes. You have to go." If for no other reason than to keep her in face contact with her personal business. A name with a face.
"Well, let's not skip lunch before we come back home." Good sign.
I think if I'm sensitive to her acetaminophen intake throughout that day she should fare better physically. We'll take the sedan. We'll postpone the trip until the last day, April 15th. That way she'll have some time to recuperate and an FT appointment before the trip.
Sometimes I look at her and think, "I wouldn't be surprised if she died tonight." At other times I wonder, "Is she really immortal?" I've generously experienced both within the last 24 hours.
I hear a cough. I'd better see what's happening.
Happy Easter.
Yes.
Later.
