Saturday, August 7, 2004
"And so begins the task..."*
...although not the dread. I'm looking forward to recording the stream of consciousness detail surrounding my mother's and my latest adventure. Over the next several days I'll be entering a variety of documentation including results of blood and diagnostic tests done on my mother in the hospital, sections of e's to a friend, the hand written directive I presented to the emergency room staff at the Mesa ER at the time she was initially evaluated and admitted to the hospital, which letter was the first of my Acts of Magnificence involved in this health care episode (and which elicited a surprisingly positive response from the hospital staff), information about selecting a skilled nursing facility for her short term, intensively rehabilitative stay and, well, whatever hits me as I go. I'll also be updating the stats on Mom's Daily Tests and Meds as I recorded and remember them up to Sunday afternoon when we headed down the mountain for professional health care. I'll also be entering information about mistakes and successes I've scored in her home health care up to the hospital stay, all of which I discovered as she was cared for and evaluated in the hospital.
I'll be documenting while keeping up with Mom every other day, keeping our life business going and reviving myself as I continue, so expect up-to-date reports mixed with recent history.
First up-to-date report: Although I had planned on checking in on Mom yesterday morning before heading back up the mountain after settling her into the skilled nursing facility on Thursday, the lack of sleep, food and hydration coupled with the intense demands on me to negotiate the quick succession of mini-events over the last few days caught up with me Thursday night. I thought, with a good meal, I'd be able to crash long and easily. I made sure I arrived at our Mesa home early enough to begin personal revival. I was ready to lay down at 2030 but was unable to sleep despite (or, most likely, because of) my exhaustion. Finally, long before Friday's dawn, aching in every joint and muscle, having jerked awake numerous times, I decided, if I waited any longer to head back to Prescott I'd risk an accident due to severe driver fatigue. So I struggled back into my day old, sweat soaked clothes, packed the car and took on the maze of freeways, culminating with I-17 along side the summer construction workers and delivery semis.
After a few hours sleep in comfortable surroundings with cats snuggling close to me I called the S(killed) N(ursing) F(acility) to let them know of the change in my plans and began the series of calls to my mother's room, all of which went unanswered. This doesn't concern me. I'm not sure my mother understands how to work the phone in her room (although I explained it to her the night before and we practiced), nor that she realizes that the phone is hers to be answered when it rings. As well, from the report I solicited from the day nurse, she is being kept busy and was walking yesterday, "hunched over", as she said, but walking. Although I suppose, with some effort, I could show up today, she will be receiving a visit from the Chandler branch of our family and I need today to recuperate before I begin the round of every-other-day-or-so visits that I'll be performing during my mother's stay at the facility.
My mother's initial therapeutic evaluation on Thursday by the charge nurse at the facility was surprisingly thorough. I'm extremely impressed with this facility and its staff. This is a "head 'em up, move 'em out" facility, which is exactly what I was hoping. As the evaluation came to a close I asked the charge nurse if she could make an initial prognosis based on her experience with people in my mother's state. Without hesitation, she replied that considering how good her resting strength was (including the balance of strength between her right and left sides) and how far she'd recovered with the intermittent, low key therapy applied to her in the hospital (her penmanship and ability to use eating utensils was much improved, and her ability to stand with aid was good as was her alertness and general physical condition), the nurse's guess was "a week and a few days to two weeks." I also noticed that, while I was there on Thursday, the halls were filled with therapists directing their charges on a variety of walks, strengthenings and motivational exercises. As well, aside from the quickly and deftly researched recommendation solicited by MPBIL, after I'd decided on this facility I was treated to a few unsolicited stories, not the least of which was from the independently contracted driver who delivered my mother there and had, at one time, entered his daughter into the facility for short term, intensive back therapy after an accident, regarding the quality and intensity of the therapeutic care given at this spot. They were all positive.
Yes!
"Thank you for taking me seriously," I told the Thursday charge nurse after she'd consulted with me regarding the detail of this mini-stroking episode and my preferences for my mother's medication administration, including a meticulous discussion of what the doctors had ordered versus (although, this time, I had no complaints) what I thought would be appropriate. "I have a devil of a time getting health care providers to take me seriously in regards to my mother's care."
In response, with a "don't thank me" air, she explained that I'm the one who is with my mother all the time, I'm the one who manages and manipulates her care and medication to best advantage, of course I should be taken seriously and listened to.
Yes!
So today I revive, I take care of minor life business here, rest up, contact people I know would be interested in what's going on and prepare for a day on the road tomorrow. I'll be shutting down the Mesa house tomorrow, as I see no reason to traipse back there. I have no intention of spending nights there. I can take bathroom and food breaks either on the road or at the facility during my visits.
After a full night's sleep, begun early and aided with ibuprofen for my incredibly aching body, I'm feeling good this morning. I expect to feel even better tomorrow. I'm confident that my mother is doing well. I will check in with the nurses' station at the SNF and continue to try calling my mother in her room, although I rather expect this will be a wasted effort.
I have a very good feeling about this SNF episode. My mother has an independent spirit. She probably not remember my oft repeated visiting schedule and my reasons behind it:
I discovered why I was unable to sleep throughout the week: Aside from the general worry that attends such episodes in my mother's life, I am so used to listening to the drone of her oxygen concentrator at night and the quality of her breathing that I find it difficult to sleep without subconsciously monitoring the night rhythm of her life. The absence of her day rhythm is strange, as well, but I'm adjusting.
Once she is out of the facility I will be activating the prescription we still have for ongoing "ambulation and strength" physical therapy. I am keeping my expectations high and flexible. My most constant expectation is that my mother will continue to surprise and delight me through this episode in our shared lives and beyond.
*Stephen Stills: So Begins the Task
I'll be documenting while keeping up with Mom every other day, keeping our life business going and reviving myself as I continue, so expect up-to-date reports mixed with recent history.
First up-to-date report: Although I had planned on checking in on Mom yesterday morning before heading back up the mountain after settling her into the skilled nursing facility on Thursday, the lack of sleep, food and hydration coupled with the intense demands on me to negotiate the quick succession of mini-events over the last few days caught up with me Thursday night. I thought, with a good meal, I'd be able to crash long and easily. I made sure I arrived at our Mesa home early enough to begin personal revival. I was ready to lay down at 2030 but was unable to sleep despite (or, most likely, because of) my exhaustion. Finally, long before Friday's dawn, aching in every joint and muscle, having jerked awake numerous times, I decided, if I waited any longer to head back to Prescott I'd risk an accident due to severe driver fatigue. So I struggled back into my day old, sweat soaked clothes, packed the car and took on the maze of freeways, culminating with I-17 along side the summer construction workers and delivery semis.
After a few hours sleep in comfortable surroundings with cats snuggling close to me I called the S(killed) N(ursing) F(acility) to let them know of the change in my plans and began the series of calls to my mother's room, all of which went unanswered. This doesn't concern me. I'm not sure my mother understands how to work the phone in her room (although I explained it to her the night before and we practiced), nor that she realizes that the phone is hers to be answered when it rings. As well, from the report I solicited from the day nurse, she is being kept busy and was walking yesterday, "hunched over", as she said, but walking. Although I suppose, with some effort, I could show up today, she will be receiving a visit from the Chandler branch of our family and I need today to recuperate before I begin the round of every-other-day-or-so visits that I'll be performing during my mother's stay at the facility.
My mother's initial therapeutic evaluation on Thursday by the charge nurse at the facility was surprisingly thorough. I'm extremely impressed with this facility and its staff. This is a "head 'em up, move 'em out" facility, which is exactly what I was hoping. As the evaluation came to a close I asked the charge nurse if she could make an initial prognosis based on her experience with people in my mother's state. Without hesitation, she replied that considering how good her resting strength was (including the balance of strength between her right and left sides) and how far she'd recovered with the intermittent, low key therapy applied to her in the hospital (her penmanship and ability to use eating utensils was much improved, and her ability to stand with aid was good as was her alertness and general physical condition), the nurse's guess was "a week and a few days to two weeks." I also noticed that, while I was there on Thursday, the halls were filled with therapists directing their charges on a variety of walks, strengthenings and motivational exercises. As well, aside from the quickly and deftly researched recommendation solicited by MPBIL, after I'd decided on this facility I was treated to a few unsolicited stories, not the least of which was from the independently contracted driver who delivered my mother there and had, at one time, entered his daughter into the facility for short term, intensive back therapy after an accident, regarding the quality and intensity of the therapeutic care given at this spot. They were all positive.
Yes!
"Thank you for taking me seriously," I told the Thursday charge nurse after she'd consulted with me regarding the detail of this mini-stroking episode and my preferences for my mother's medication administration, including a meticulous discussion of what the doctors had ordered versus (although, this time, I had no complaints) what I thought would be appropriate. "I have a devil of a time getting health care providers to take me seriously in regards to my mother's care."
In response, with a "don't thank me" air, she explained that I'm the one who is with my mother all the time, I'm the one who manages and manipulates her care and medication to best advantage, of course I should be taken seriously and listened to.
Yes!
So today I revive, I take care of minor life business here, rest up, contact people I know would be interested in what's going on and prepare for a day on the road tomorrow. I'll be shutting down the Mesa house tomorrow, as I see no reason to traipse back there. I have no intention of spending nights there. I can take bathroom and food breaks either on the road or at the facility during my visits.
After a full night's sleep, begun early and aided with ibuprofen for my incredibly aching body, I'm feeling good this morning. I expect to feel even better tomorrow. I'm confident that my mother is doing well. I will check in with the nurses' station at the SNF and continue to try calling my mother in her room, although I rather expect this will be a wasted effort.
I have a very good feeling about this SNF episode. My mother has an independent spirit. She probably not remember my oft repeated visiting schedule and my reasons behind it:
- That I want her to perform and she tends not to perform for me;
- I want her to take full advantage of any social opportunities available at the facility;
- I need to keep from driving myself crazy going up and down the mountain on a daily basis, as I found myself doing while she was in the hospital;
- I want her to rediscover her ability to rely on her wonderful independence of spirit and regain some confidence in her ability to maneuver through life and I believe she is capable of doing this;
- I want her to consider this boot camp for our continued life together.
I discovered why I was unable to sleep throughout the week: Aside from the general worry that attends such episodes in my mother's life, I am so used to listening to the drone of her oxygen concentrator at night and the quality of her breathing that I find it difficult to sleep without subconsciously monitoring the night rhythm of her life. The absence of her day rhythm is strange, as well, but I'm adjusting.
Once she is out of the facility I will be activating the prescription we still have for ongoing "ambulation and strength" physical therapy. I am keeping my expectations high and flexible. My most constant expectation is that my mother will continue to surprise and delight me through this episode in our shared lives and beyond.
*Stephen Stills: So Begins the Task
