Wednesday, August 18, 2004
I am sitting on the floor of the room my mother shares...
...with another resident at the SNF, barely able to contain my excitement. My mother is going to be released on Friday, August 20, 2004, at 1100! She has been doing very, very well here. This morning I found out that last night, out of a combination of curiosity, boredom and adventure-seeking, I'm sure, she decided to pad down the hall from her room to the nurses' station to see what was going on there. She did this without aid of wheelchair or walker. "She's a very independent lady," the Director of Nursing commented when she told me about my mother's night adventure. That she is.
She did all three of her therapy sessions for the day this morning. She's napping now. I'll style her hair later (earlier I washed and set it), and I'll take her on one more walk today (this time with the walker; insurance prohibits me from encouraging her to walk on her own while at the facility) to the living area so she can fill her popcorn bowl. She is surprised that everyone considers it amazing that she took a leisurely walk on her own last night.
While I was washing and setting her hair I asked her if she remembered anything about how it is she came to be admitted to this SNF. She did not. So I told her the story of her debilitation. She gazed back at my image in the mirror, rapt as I related her accelerating collapse of three weeks ago, then said, "Oh, my! That certainly isn't worth remembering!"
She's right. It's not. Whether or not this attitude is a touch dangerous she can't see any reason why she shouldn't be able to stand up and move at will. Although this means I'll have to keep an eagle eye on her it also means that she is not going to assume that she might not be able to go where she wants and do what she wants. I prefer that she have this attitude. This means she'll do more and go more.
She has amazing recuperative powers and I am pleased I am genetically related to such a woman. I hope, if I make it to her age (and, actually, considering everything I've learned about being Ancient, it wouldn't bother me if I didn't), I'm at least as adventurous as she is and as assumptive that I can do whatever I god damn well feel like doing.
She did all three of her therapy sessions for the day this morning. She's napping now. I'll style her hair later (earlier I washed and set it), and I'll take her on one more walk today (this time with the walker; insurance prohibits me from encouraging her to walk on her own while at the facility) to the living area so she can fill her popcorn bowl. She is surprised that everyone considers it amazing that she took a leisurely walk on her own last night.
While I was washing and setting her hair I asked her if she remembered anything about how it is she came to be admitted to this SNF. She did not. So I told her the story of her debilitation. She gazed back at my image in the mirror, rapt as I related her accelerating collapse of three weeks ago, then said, "Oh, my! That certainly isn't worth remembering!"
She's right. It's not. Whether or not this attitude is a touch dangerous she can't see any reason why she shouldn't be able to stand up and move at will. Although this means I'll have to keep an eagle eye on her it also means that she is not going to assume that she might not be able to go where she wants and do what she wants. I prefer that she have this attitude. This means she'll do more and go more.
She has amazing recuperative powers and I am pleased I am genetically related to such a woman. I hope, if I make it to her age (and, actually, considering everything I've learned about being Ancient, it wouldn't bother me if I didn't), I'm at least as adventurous as she is and as assumptive that I can do whatever I god damn well feel like doing.
