Friday, March 12, 2004
I just noticed (which I should have noticed immediately after publishing)...
...that the url for the blood test in the previous post was wrong. My mistake. I forgot to add "http" to the address and the publishing facility added an incorrect guess as to where the test was located. That has been corrected.
Mom is still sleeping but if last Friday/Saturday/Sunday is any indication she'll be much more energetic today. In anticipation I spent a lot of our conversational time last night talking up a shopping trip to pick up the makings for a huge, hearty chef's salad to feed our guests tomorrow evening. Last Sunday was the day she trotted the entire inside perimeter of Costco without a hitch so I'm hoping today will be similar for her.
As we've played Sorry, lately, I've been focusing on her hands as a result of viewing a short animated film on one of our recent DVD purchases: Pixar's Geri's Game. In contrast to Dürer's Praying Hands, the hands portrayed in this film, while obviously the hands of An Ancient One, are not timid, submissive hands. When I watch my mother's hands I am only peripherally reminded of Praying Hands, and then in an argumentative fashion. Although my mother does pray at night in bed, folding her hands before her, the more I notice her hands the more that famous picture becomes an overly and unpleasantly sentimentalized view of the hands of the old. I am more impressed by the lightness and sureness of her touch when she uses them in everyday activity, which is in striking contrast to their "ancient" appearance. They do not seem soft or sentimental. Rather they appear to be defiant in both their appearance and their activity. While it is true that when she is performing automatic movements to which she gives little thought she is likely to use such a light touch that she may drop what she is holding, when her determination manipulates her hands her grasp is tight and her movements are forthright. She continues to exercise a lifelong tendency, when she touches people, to touch and hold so lightly (except when she clasps me for support...sometimes, in fact, she has squeezed so hard that she hurts me) that I wonder if she thinks others will be offended that she deigned to touch them. Other than this, her hands continue to reach for and lock around life as though she is determined to hold on. I think when we allow ourselves to remain distant and unfamiliar with the old we are likely to sentimentalize them out of recognition.
Something else I've noticed within the last two weeks: The smell of her urine has become much more pungent. I was surprised at first but, in combination with her improving color and energy level, I think this is an indication that her body is again working again the way it's "supposed to". I hadn't really considered it before as, except for the period in 2000 when she was extremely incontinent due to a runaway bladder infection previous to beginning treatment for her diabetes, I'd not been in a position to be exposed to or notice the odor of her urine. Since her back injury I've become so familiar with its smell that I take quick note of it with every whiff and use it as an extra calculation of what might be going on inside her. I'm beginning to realize that the milder it smells the more likely some systemic something may be out of whack inside her.
I've also been playing with comparing the warehousing of the elderly in nursing homes and assisted living facilities to orphanages and foster homes for parentless children. As a prelude to my wonderings I'm considering why it is we are so careful to avoid alternative placement outside the primary home for our children yet are acutely inclined to consider full time elder care facilities "the right thing to do", to the point of constructing elaborate propaganda regarding how beneficial this practice is for "everyone involved". Funny how we go to extraordinary lengths to care for our children in a home of relations but are often self-righteously reluctant to make similar adjustments in our lives so our elderly can expect the accompaniment of family through their last hurrah. I know that this is not a "new" phenomenon. I have vivid, years-ago memories of Mom indicating that "when the time comes" she intended to put herself into a nursing home so she wouldn't "be a burden" to her children. This idea didn't begin with her generation in our family. Her parents expressed the same view. Despite this, my mother's sister and her family took on the care of both her parents within their home. My grandfather died a permanent resident of this household. My grandmother's care, due to advanced senility (which may or may not have been Alzheimer's; we'll never know) became so intense and detailed that she spent the last months of her life in a nursing home, most of it in a fetal position. Moving her there was probably a good idea since the medical aspect of her care was extreme and it was impossible to administer much of it in a home environment. I can remember, though, accompanying my mother on her frequent visits to the nursing home and noticing that a surprising majority of the clients appeared to simply be housed there because of a lack of family willing to adjust their lives to include their elderly. This is an issue I'm still pondering. As far as my mother's travel through The Land of the Ancients is concerned, it was, frankly, luck that she gave birth to a daughter who would be available in middle age to come to and home with her as she entered Alpine Territory. None of us planned this, nor did she. It was not a part of our generational or societal expectations. I'm heartened, though, to know that even without societal preparation many of my generation are choosing to do what I'm doing. It's not easy. Most of the societal support we get is skewed toward the corporate dollar rather than toward our parents and the peculiar needs of a household that includes the elderly. But we're doing it anyway. This speaks well of my generation. May we always be grateful that, one by one, we are deciding to care for our Ancients in our homes and choosing to directly impact their lives as well as allowing them to directly impact ours.
Reconnaissance coughing detected. Later.
Mom is still sleeping but if last Friday/Saturday/Sunday is any indication she'll be much more energetic today. In anticipation I spent a lot of our conversational time last night talking up a shopping trip to pick up the makings for a huge, hearty chef's salad to feed our guests tomorrow evening. Last Sunday was the day she trotted the entire inside perimeter of Costco without a hitch so I'm hoping today will be similar for her.
As we've played Sorry, lately, I've been focusing on her hands as a result of viewing a short animated film on one of our recent DVD purchases: Pixar's Geri's Game. In contrast to Dürer's Praying Hands, the hands portrayed in this film, while obviously the hands of An Ancient One, are not timid, submissive hands. When I watch my mother's hands I am only peripherally reminded of Praying Hands, and then in an argumentative fashion. Although my mother does pray at night in bed, folding her hands before her, the more I notice her hands the more that famous picture becomes an overly and unpleasantly sentimentalized view of the hands of the old. I am more impressed by the lightness and sureness of her touch when she uses them in everyday activity, which is in striking contrast to their "ancient" appearance. They do not seem soft or sentimental. Rather they appear to be defiant in both their appearance and their activity. While it is true that when she is performing automatic movements to which she gives little thought she is likely to use such a light touch that she may drop what she is holding, when her determination manipulates her hands her grasp is tight and her movements are forthright. She continues to exercise a lifelong tendency, when she touches people, to touch and hold so lightly (except when she clasps me for support...sometimes, in fact, she has squeezed so hard that she hurts me) that I wonder if she thinks others will be offended that she deigned to touch them. Other than this, her hands continue to reach for and lock around life as though she is determined to hold on. I think when we allow ourselves to remain distant and unfamiliar with the old we are likely to sentimentalize them out of recognition.
Something else I've noticed within the last two weeks: The smell of her urine has become much more pungent. I was surprised at first but, in combination with her improving color and energy level, I think this is an indication that her body is again working again the way it's "supposed to". I hadn't really considered it before as, except for the period in 2000 when she was extremely incontinent due to a runaway bladder infection previous to beginning treatment for her diabetes, I'd not been in a position to be exposed to or notice the odor of her urine. Since her back injury I've become so familiar with its smell that I take quick note of it with every whiff and use it as an extra calculation of what might be going on inside her. I'm beginning to realize that the milder it smells the more likely some systemic something may be out of whack inside her.
I've also been playing with comparing the warehousing of the elderly in nursing homes and assisted living facilities to orphanages and foster homes for parentless children. As a prelude to my wonderings I'm considering why it is we are so careful to avoid alternative placement outside the primary home for our children yet are acutely inclined to consider full time elder care facilities "the right thing to do", to the point of constructing elaborate propaganda regarding how beneficial this practice is for "everyone involved". Funny how we go to extraordinary lengths to care for our children in a home of relations but are often self-righteously reluctant to make similar adjustments in our lives so our elderly can expect the accompaniment of family through their last hurrah. I know that this is not a "new" phenomenon. I have vivid, years-ago memories of Mom indicating that "when the time comes" she intended to put herself into a nursing home so she wouldn't "be a burden" to her children. This idea didn't begin with her generation in our family. Her parents expressed the same view. Despite this, my mother's sister and her family took on the care of both her parents within their home. My grandfather died a permanent resident of this household. My grandmother's care, due to advanced senility (which may or may not have been Alzheimer's; we'll never know) became so intense and detailed that she spent the last months of her life in a nursing home, most of it in a fetal position. Moving her there was probably a good idea since the medical aspect of her care was extreme and it was impossible to administer much of it in a home environment. I can remember, though, accompanying my mother on her frequent visits to the nursing home and noticing that a surprising majority of the clients appeared to simply be housed there because of a lack of family willing to adjust their lives to include their elderly. This is an issue I'm still pondering. As far as my mother's travel through The Land of the Ancients is concerned, it was, frankly, luck that she gave birth to a daughter who would be available in middle age to come to and home with her as she entered Alpine Territory. None of us planned this, nor did she. It was not a part of our generational or societal expectations. I'm heartened, though, to know that even without societal preparation many of my generation are choosing to do what I'm doing. It's not easy. Most of the societal support we get is skewed toward the corporate dollar rather than toward our parents and the peculiar needs of a household that includes the elderly. But we're doing it anyway. This speaks well of my generation. May we always be grateful that, one by one, we are deciding to care for our Ancients in our homes and choosing to directly impact their lives as well as allowing them to directly impact ours.
Reconnaissance coughing detected. Later.
All tests have been added...
...and indexed to the Mom's Tests index.
The blood test may seem confusing, as some of the ranges have changed (in some cases, drastically), thus some of the results which are in or out of range were the opposite on previous tests. Most of the changes are as of 1/15/04 as per footnotes to the test results. However, the most important results, such as Hemoglobin and Hematocrit, are well within range and show marked improvement. All others are showing steady improvement toward normal ranges, except "% Saturation" in the iron tests. This one, though, isn't surprising. As well, the results appear to indicate that her anemia worsened between 2/10/04 and 3/05/04, before it began its reversal.
The Helicobacter Pylori test was ordered to determine whether this may be causing ulceration of the stomach and/or upper intestinal lining, leading to her anemia this time. The results were inconclusive and, at any rate, if this was a factor it no longer appears to be. Her PCP expressed again that she may very well be bleeding internally "a little" now and then, but since she is responding to non-invasive treatment and is not in mortal danger he expects to continue a course of iron supplementation and blood testing now and then to monitor it.
My feeling is that we will probably be dealing with bouts of anemia for the rest of her life and that there is a good chance, in her case, that even with extensive non-invasive testing it will not ever be determined whether her anemia is a result of internal bleeding. I'm still curious about the role metformin may be playing in her anemia but this area is still speculative within the medical community. I hope that my documentation of the idiosyncrasies of her anemia will contribute to the possibility of further research in this area.
The abdominal ultrasound, aside from revealing no abdominal aortic aneurysms, found nothing that hasn't already been documented except for one tiny kidney stone (cholelithiasis with 2mm wall thickness) which her PCP sees no reason to address unless the onset of belly pain indicates that it may be blocking or passing through a duct. All other conditions, including the cortical cysts (sacs of water on the kidneys) have been documented before, remain much as they were previously and do not beg treatment.
In short, the woman is doing well despite her mysterious bouts with anemia. Her PCP wants her to continue Prilosec OTC once a day for "a couple of months" to address the possibility of digestive lining ulceration, which we are doing. She will be evaluated for physical therapy and have a program of treatment outlined for her on Monday morning. The LPT who will be working with her lives just up the street, very convenient. Her PCP has indicated that the LPT has the leeway to determine all conditions which might benefit from therapy and, at this point, he will most likely approve everything the LPT wishes to address.
I'm extremely grateful that we have the ability and the resources to travel to and from Mesa for her primary non-alternative medical care, as I am tired of trying to deal with the medical community up here. I'm not worried about emergencies. The Yavapai Regional Medical Center is a good hospital for the handling of emergencies and now that she is firmly back in the care of her Mesa PCP I am certain that, if necessary, Mom can be med-evacked from here to The Valley for serious treatment. From the alternative health perspective, I am relieved that we are settled up here for the time being as, up to the 5th of March, the only people absolutely involved in the successful treatment and care of my mother have been myself, MCS and Mom's alternative health providers. She will be continuing acupuncture treatments every other week and if necessary I will seek out other alternative practitioners and treatments. Prescott may not be the best place to seek non-alternative medical care but it is an absolute haven for alternative practitioners. I'm glad her back crisis occurred up here as otherwise I probably would have never considered alternative care since the lack of decent non-alternative medical care would not have been a factor in Mesa. I'm very pleased with the gentleness, specificity and effectiveness of what's available in alternative healing. I just wish insurance companies would get their heads out of their asses about some of these treatments. In both the short and the long runs alternative healing saves the patient's eccentric dignity, is ultimately more capable of addressing problems without risking any harm (or, certainly not nearly as much as a seemingly benign visit to a non-alternative healer often presents) to the patient and saves money.
Well, goodness! If I plan to awaken to a full day of preparing for company I'd better get to bed. Damn! Nothing like a real nap to get my engines revving again!
The blood test may seem confusing, as some of the ranges have changed (in some cases, drastically), thus some of the results which are in or out of range were the opposite on previous tests. Most of the changes are as of 1/15/04 as per footnotes to the test results. However, the most important results, such as Hemoglobin and Hematocrit, are well within range and show marked improvement. All others are showing steady improvement toward normal ranges, except "% Saturation" in the iron tests. This one, though, isn't surprising. As well, the results appear to indicate that her anemia worsened between 2/10/04 and 3/05/04, before it began its reversal.
The Helicobacter Pylori test was ordered to determine whether this may be causing ulceration of the stomach and/or upper intestinal lining, leading to her anemia this time. The results were inconclusive and, at any rate, if this was a factor it no longer appears to be. Her PCP expressed again that she may very well be bleeding internally "a little" now and then, but since she is responding to non-invasive treatment and is not in mortal danger he expects to continue a course of iron supplementation and blood testing now and then to monitor it.
My feeling is that we will probably be dealing with bouts of anemia for the rest of her life and that there is a good chance, in her case, that even with extensive non-invasive testing it will not ever be determined whether her anemia is a result of internal bleeding. I'm still curious about the role metformin may be playing in her anemia but this area is still speculative within the medical community. I hope that my documentation of the idiosyncrasies of her anemia will contribute to the possibility of further research in this area.
The abdominal ultrasound, aside from revealing no abdominal aortic aneurysms, found nothing that hasn't already been documented except for one tiny kidney stone (cholelithiasis with 2mm wall thickness) which her PCP sees no reason to address unless the onset of belly pain indicates that it may be blocking or passing through a duct. All other conditions, including the cortical cysts (sacs of water on the kidneys) have been documented before, remain much as they were previously and do not beg treatment.
In short, the woman is doing well despite her mysterious bouts with anemia. Her PCP wants her to continue Prilosec OTC once a day for "a couple of months" to address the possibility of digestive lining ulceration, which we are doing. She will be evaluated for physical therapy and have a program of treatment outlined for her on Monday morning. The LPT who will be working with her lives just up the street, very convenient. Her PCP has indicated that the LPT has the leeway to determine all conditions which might benefit from therapy and, at this point, he will most likely approve everything the LPT wishes to address.
I'm extremely grateful that we have the ability and the resources to travel to and from Mesa for her primary non-alternative medical care, as I am tired of trying to deal with the medical community up here. I'm not worried about emergencies. The Yavapai Regional Medical Center is a good hospital for the handling of emergencies and now that she is firmly back in the care of her Mesa PCP I am certain that, if necessary, Mom can be med-evacked from here to The Valley for serious treatment. From the alternative health perspective, I am relieved that we are settled up here for the time being as, up to the 5th of March, the only people absolutely involved in the successful treatment and care of my mother have been myself, MCS and Mom's alternative health providers. She will be continuing acupuncture treatments every other week and if necessary I will seek out other alternative practitioners and treatments. Prescott may not be the best place to seek non-alternative medical care but it is an absolute haven for alternative practitioners. I'm glad her back crisis occurred up here as otherwise I probably would have never considered alternative care since the lack of decent non-alternative medical care would not have been a factor in Mesa. I'm very pleased with the gentleness, specificity and effectiveness of what's available in alternative healing. I just wish insurance companies would get their heads out of their asses about some of these treatments. In both the short and the long runs alternative healing saves the patient's eccentric dignity, is ultimately more capable of addressing problems without risking any harm (or, certainly not nearly as much as a seemingly benign visit to a non-alternative healer often presents) to the patient and saves money.
Well, goodness! If I plan to awaken to a full day of preparing for company I'd better get to bed. Damn! Nothing like a real nap to get my engines revving again!
Thursday, March 11, 2004
It's been a sleep day. For all of us. Even me.
This is the first day I can remember in months that I've been able to nap. Because of our experience with last Friday's Mesa appointments followed by Mom spending the day in bed, I didn't freak today when she slept in then went back down for a nap at 1400, then decided, after arising at 1800, to go back to bed 1t 2230. I didn't try to stop her, just gave her a good rub down to relax her.
The surprise was that I was able to nap. Napping is difficult for me even when I'm exhausted. I rarely sleep and am usually up within a half hour at most after I attempt to take a nap. Today though, hallelujah, I slept for four hours. When I awoke I was sprawled on my back all over my futon. This is a sign that I'd completely relaxed. I discovered I'd slept through a phone call (one of our phones, the one set to ring like a siren, is just above the head of my futon) and the door bell. I'm still lagging a bit and looking forward to some sleep tonight but I'm staying awake to finish the laundry, something I normally do in the afternoon.
We have company coming this weekend, people we love and who love us. Tomorrow we'll spend the day shopping for food. Mom expressed a great deal of interest in going along, making selections. Slowly but surely she's "up", more often now for short trips of all kinds even when they exhaust her. Yesterday, as we were running errands in The Valley and going to the doctor (and she was refusing to use the wheel chair as a walker or even ride in it until we stopped at the Costco there to pick up a couple of things that the one up here doesn't regularly carry), I noticed that she's straightening more when she walks. Very gratifying to notice.
Our trip to the doctor was successful, too. All the people at her Mesa PCP's office make over her in a way that always makes her feel better even when she's not feeling good. Yesterday she felt so good that the fawning turned her head. I'm glad it did. I love exposing my mother to people who care about her and enjoy her.
Her PCP did something yesterday that I was pleased to witness. Instead of talking to me he talked to her. When he went over the lab results he leaned toward her, put the results in her line of vision and pointed out and explained all the significant indicators. I moved behind her chair and silently absorbed the process. Non-alternative health care providers tend to focus on me when she's in their offices, in part because she can't hear well and in part because it becomes quickly obvious that I manage her health care and that's what I should be doing. It always irritates me, though, that this tends to happen, as I hear quite well, I don't need to have a speaker facing me and she is the patient, not me. If I have a concern I speak up but, for the most part, I prefer the attention, in a health care provider's company, to be on her. At times, when asked about some aspect of her health for which my mother can speak and should be heard, I've had to ask the provider to redirect the question to my mother. This hasn't happened with this PCP but he and I have, in the past, accidentally fallen into dialogue as though my mother isn't present and it frustrates me both on my own behalf for allowing myself to participate and on my mother's behalf for having to endure her being treated like a third party when she's actually the first party. I'm so pleased that her Mesa PCP is leaning in toward her now. Although I know a great deal more about her body and her health than she can often express, I'm not her and there is much that my mother can communicate with and without words to the attentive physician that I would never be able to relay and numbers on paper can't express.
While I have some time and have to stay up to monitor the washer and dryer loads (every day our laundry includes at least one down comforter, often a feather pillow, always one set of sheets, sometimes a second load with another set of sheets, sometimes yet another comforter and pillow and several items of clothing, as well as at least six towels and four wash cloths per day), I'll input as much of the lab results as I can. The only result that is a bit curious is her extremely low blood glucose. I tend to think that this is either a misprint or a botched result. Although she was enduring a six hour fast without water that day due to the impending ultrasound, she'd had a healthy, ultrasound-regulation breakfast at 0630 and I went light on her metformin since the directions for what she could eat eliminated refined carbohydrates. As well, as her physician pointed out, such a low blood sugar is typically accompanied by lethargy and can easily trigger unconsciousness. That day my mother was raring to go all day long even after a few of the vacu-tubes used to collect her blood malfunctioned and quite a bit more blood had to be extracted than intended. We didn't eat until 1600. When we emerged from the car in the parking lot of the a steak house, at the whiff of grilling beef she literally charged ahead of me toward the door.
I'll check back before retiring to report my progress on entering the test results.
Later.
The surprise was that I was able to nap. Napping is difficult for me even when I'm exhausted. I rarely sleep and am usually up within a half hour at most after I attempt to take a nap. Today though, hallelujah, I slept for four hours. When I awoke I was sprawled on my back all over my futon. This is a sign that I'd completely relaxed. I discovered I'd slept through a phone call (one of our phones, the one set to ring like a siren, is just above the head of my futon) and the door bell. I'm still lagging a bit and looking forward to some sleep tonight but I'm staying awake to finish the laundry, something I normally do in the afternoon.
We have company coming this weekend, people we love and who love us. Tomorrow we'll spend the day shopping for food. Mom expressed a great deal of interest in going along, making selections. Slowly but surely she's "up", more often now for short trips of all kinds even when they exhaust her. Yesterday, as we were running errands in The Valley and going to the doctor (and she was refusing to use the wheel chair as a walker or even ride in it until we stopped at the Costco there to pick up a couple of things that the one up here doesn't regularly carry), I noticed that she's straightening more when she walks. Very gratifying to notice.
Our trip to the doctor was successful, too. All the people at her Mesa PCP's office make over her in a way that always makes her feel better even when she's not feeling good. Yesterday she felt so good that the fawning turned her head. I'm glad it did. I love exposing my mother to people who care about her and enjoy her.
Her PCP did something yesterday that I was pleased to witness. Instead of talking to me he talked to her. When he went over the lab results he leaned toward her, put the results in her line of vision and pointed out and explained all the significant indicators. I moved behind her chair and silently absorbed the process. Non-alternative health care providers tend to focus on me when she's in their offices, in part because she can't hear well and in part because it becomes quickly obvious that I manage her health care and that's what I should be doing. It always irritates me, though, that this tends to happen, as I hear quite well, I don't need to have a speaker facing me and she is the patient, not me. If I have a concern I speak up but, for the most part, I prefer the attention, in a health care provider's company, to be on her. At times, when asked about some aspect of her health for which my mother can speak and should be heard, I've had to ask the provider to redirect the question to my mother. This hasn't happened with this PCP but he and I have, in the past, accidentally fallen into dialogue as though my mother isn't present and it frustrates me both on my own behalf for allowing myself to participate and on my mother's behalf for having to endure her being treated like a third party when she's actually the first party. I'm so pleased that her Mesa PCP is leaning in toward her now. Although I know a great deal more about her body and her health than she can often express, I'm not her and there is much that my mother can communicate with and without words to the attentive physician that I would never be able to relay and numbers on paper can't express.
While I have some time and have to stay up to monitor the washer and dryer loads (every day our laundry includes at least one down comforter, often a feather pillow, always one set of sheets, sometimes a second load with another set of sheets, sometimes yet another comforter and pillow and several items of clothing, as well as at least six towels and four wash cloths per day), I'll input as much of the lab results as I can. The only result that is a bit curious is her extremely low blood glucose. I tend to think that this is either a misprint or a botched result. Although she was enduring a six hour fast without water that day due to the impending ultrasound, she'd had a healthy, ultrasound-regulation breakfast at 0630 and I went light on her metformin since the directions for what she could eat eliminated refined carbohydrates. As well, as her physician pointed out, such a low blood sugar is typically accompanied by lethargy and can easily trigger unconsciousness. That day my mother was raring to go all day long even after a few of the vacu-tubes used to collect her blood malfunctioned and quite a bit more blood had to be extracted than intended. We didn't eat until 1600. When we emerged from the car in the parking lot of the a steak house, at the whiff of grilling beef she literally charged ahead of me toward the door.
I'll check back before retiring to report my progress on entering the test results.
Later.
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Mom does not have an abdominal aortic aneurysm.
She is still this side of anemic but improving at a steady, acceptable rate. Her numbers have skewed themselves toward her typical anemia profile, a skewing they hadn't shown previously, so there are a few more highs and lows than in the last two blood tests but all are borderline toward normal and some of her previous highs have driven themselves entirely back to normal. Her Mesa PCP is "very happy"...and so am I. I'll cover the detail later. Very shortly I intend to cover myself with down and sleep.
Today's trip to Mesa was both invigorating and tiring. It was a long day: So long that we decided to do something we rarely do when we take day trips to Mesa...leave in the middle of rush hour. We simply couldn't wait to return home. I haven't driven rush hour traffic in a couple of years at least. Throughout my life I've worked hard to avoid rush hour traffic and have been mostly successful expect for in Seattle where rush hour, while capable of producing the penultimate in gridlock, is one of the most courteous cities in which to drive. Seattle rush hour never bothered me. Sometimes it was a pleasure to drive it after a day of rude business. In the Phoenix metroplex though, I am stymied over how it is that people "do" a typical Sonoran rush hour twice a day five days a week without inflicting serious psychological harm upon themselves, let alone the high risk of physical harm. Perhaps people do suffer psychologically from exposure to Valley Rush Hour but since they live in a city full of people branded by this peculiar rush hour experience they all seem normal to one another. Mom shared my astonishment. We were both mellow throughout but both of us exclaimed during the hour and a half it took us to traverse the area we normally handle in 45 minutes (this doubling of time was accomplished without passing any accidents and only two speeders who'd been pulled over, neither of which had any rubbernecking effect on traffic flow), "Do you believe people do this without thinking about it every day as though it was normal?!?"
The interesting aspect of all this is that our rush hour experience happened immediately after a day of Mom talking about how much she missed Mesa, our home there, etc. Every 15 minutes before we hit the freeway she would say, "I'm really looking forward to living here, again," or "I feel like I'm finally home," or, "I've always liked this house." On our way out of the city though, several times in several ways she said, "I'm glad we haven't had to put up with this in awhile."
The ping-pong nature of her desires continues.
Lab results, including the results of the ultrasound, will appear within the next few days with notes about her PCP's comments and MCS's elaboration.
All in all, although tiring for both of us, we had a successful day and Mom retired in excellent spirits. I am, too.
Later.
Today's trip to Mesa was both invigorating and tiring. It was a long day: So long that we decided to do something we rarely do when we take day trips to Mesa...leave in the middle of rush hour. We simply couldn't wait to return home. I haven't driven rush hour traffic in a couple of years at least. Throughout my life I've worked hard to avoid rush hour traffic and have been mostly successful expect for in Seattle where rush hour, while capable of producing the penultimate in gridlock, is one of the most courteous cities in which to drive. Seattle rush hour never bothered me. Sometimes it was a pleasure to drive it after a day of rude business. In the Phoenix metroplex though, I am stymied over how it is that people "do" a typical Sonoran rush hour twice a day five days a week without inflicting serious psychological harm upon themselves, let alone the high risk of physical harm. Perhaps people do suffer psychologically from exposure to Valley Rush Hour but since they live in a city full of people branded by this peculiar rush hour experience they all seem normal to one another. Mom shared my astonishment. We were both mellow throughout but both of us exclaimed during the hour and a half it took us to traverse the area we normally handle in 45 minutes (this doubling of time was accomplished without passing any accidents and only two speeders who'd been pulled over, neither of which had any rubbernecking effect on traffic flow), "Do you believe people do this without thinking about it every day as though it was normal?!?"
The interesting aspect of all this is that our rush hour experience happened immediately after a day of Mom talking about how much she missed Mesa, our home there, etc. Every 15 minutes before we hit the freeway she would say, "I'm really looking forward to living here, again," or "I feel like I'm finally home," or, "I've always liked this house." On our way out of the city though, several times in several ways she said, "I'm glad we haven't had to put up with this in awhile."
The ping-pong nature of her desires continues.
Lab results, including the results of the ultrasound, will appear within the next few days with notes about her PCP's comments and MCS's elaboration.
All in all, although tiring for both of us, we had a successful day and Mom retired in excellent spirits. I am, too.
Later.
Tuesday, March 9, 2004
The news is...
...Mom awoke on her own at a little after 0800 today! I heard one reconnaissance cough, then another, then another, until I peaked around her door frame at 0815. She was leaning against the wall, prone, in the position she usually takes before scouting the bottom sheet for wet spots and moving toward the other edge of the bed to arise.
"My goodness, girl! Are you ready to get up?"
"May as well..."
"Can't dance."
And up she arose.
Her blood sugar was a bit high, 149. I wracked my brain trying to figure out why it may have soared this morning. About halfway through preparing breakfast I remembered that we'd both been so hungry last night that after I prepared a dinner of quick beef stroganoff (a salty meal, specifically so that we'd get some sodium in her system since she was having trouble holding onto fluid yesterday) we chowed down without remembering her metformin (although I did remember to give her glipizide since that comes a half hour before the meal). Considering that she had neither her typical 500 mg of metformin nor her iron, her blood sugar reading this morning is actually pretty good. Her color looks much better than I'd expect, not having had her iron and being off oxygen for almost 2 hours.
It's happening. She's healing, again. We're off to a great start today. I'm going to get her moving around. We've got several pleasure pursuits planned: Doing her hair; doing her nails; an extra leg rub, as I've discovered that when she lags during the day these get her going again. Tomorrow we'll be heading for Mesa again for the results of the ultra sound.
It's also acupuncture day. We haven't decided yet who's going. Right now though, we're going to return MCS's early call when Mom awoke. Something tells me it's going to be a full day for both of us. Good, good news!
Short note: Her Mesa PCP (now her only PCP) has put her on Prilosec OTC once a day to help control stomach irritation in case this was the cause of her recent bout with anemia. He mentioned that although the package says it is to be taken for only 14 days, "...she can take it forever, if necessary."
"My goodness, girl! Are you ready to get up?"
"May as well..."
"Can't dance."
And up she arose.
Her blood sugar was a bit high, 149. I wracked my brain trying to figure out why it may have soared this morning. About halfway through preparing breakfast I remembered that we'd both been so hungry last night that after I prepared a dinner of quick beef stroganoff (a salty meal, specifically so that we'd get some sodium in her system since she was having trouble holding onto fluid yesterday) we chowed down without remembering her metformin (although I did remember to give her glipizide since that comes a half hour before the meal). Considering that she had neither her typical 500 mg of metformin nor her iron, her blood sugar reading this morning is actually pretty good. Her color looks much better than I'd expect, not having had her iron and being off oxygen for almost 2 hours.
It's happening. She's healing, again. We're off to a great start today. I'm going to get her moving around. We've got several pleasure pursuits planned: Doing her hair; doing her nails; an extra leg rub, as I've discovered that when she lags during the day these get her going again. Tomorrow we'll be heading for Mesa again for the results of the ultra sound.
It's also acupuncture day. We haven't decided yet who's going. Right now though, we're going to return MCS's early call when Mom awoke. Something tells me it's going to be a full day for both of us. Good, good news!
Short note: Her Mesa PCP (now her only PCP) has put her on Prilosec OTC once a day to help control stomach irritation in case this was the cause of her recent bout with anemia. He mentioned that although the package says it is to be taken for only 14 days, "...she can take it forever, if necessary."
Monday, March 8, 2004
I forgot to mention the Cinnamon Experiment yesterday...
...although it's been continuing and I've been taking notes which I intended to post here daily but never found the time. Here's the review: I've been continuing to see to it that she gets at least 1/2 tsp cinnamon a day, usually on her toast in the morning and in her V-8 juice at lunch or dinner. Occasionally she gets an extra 1/4 tsp depending on what she's eating and how her blood sugar numbers look, although they've been looking quite good on 1/2 tsp. Using cinnamon has allowed her dose of metformin to most often come in at 1,000 mg per day, 500 mg at her morning and evening meals, although I'm having to administer an extra 500 every 3 days or so depending on how much and what she eats. Lately I've been feeding her a lot more meat than we usually eat, especially beef since that is the highest and most easily absorbed source of iron naturally available. I've been experimenting with supplements, too, trying to keep her bowel movements regular without laxatives. Except for the last few days, it seems to be working. She's been moving so much, though, over the last few days that she may be using more of the food she eats than previously.
She knows I'm adding straight cinnamon to her diet. She's mentioned, since I've been putting it in her V-8 juice, that she likes the flavor of the juice better. The second day I used it, a day I recorded here, she asked if I was using a different brand of vegetable juice and said she liked it. I purchased cinnamon sticks to use in tea but since I've purchased them we've had tea only once.
I expect that we'll be having tea more and more. Her smoking has become personally dangerous externally: Interpreted, this means that she is becoming somewhat more careless when handling cigarettes. She's singed her hair twice in the last 3 weeks and almost lit her bathrobe (thank god it is flame retardant) once. She is also dropping ashes and embers more than before and is holding her cigarettes so long that they burn down to the filter and threaten to burn her fingers.
I don't think it's the nicotine that's the attraction for her anymore but rather the activity of holding the cigarette. I believe I mentioned once before that she holds her cigarette in exactly the manner portrayed in movies produced during the late 1930's through the mid 1940's. She picked up smoking when she was in the Navy as near as I can determine and she can remember so this figures. The activity is most likely a psychological cue for her, allowing her to feel the way she felt during some of the best, most exciting years of her life. I was stunned when we watched Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and her cigarette behavior was portrayed exactly by the female lead.
MCS surmised that replacing her cigarette behavior might help and suggested daily, frequent Tea Times, which is a good idea although I haven't yet been able to implement these regularly because she is still working on the carton she had when I decided to initiate The Quitting Sequence. She is smoking quite a bit less than before, in part because I have also instituted a type of aversion therapy when she lights a cigarette. I hound her mercilessly to place her cigarette in the ashtray between puffs. Since a lot of her smoking occurs when we are watching programs on TV or movies, this hounding is usually accompanied by muting a show or pausing a movie. It's terribly distracting for me, but not for Mom. When she has trouble activating a lighter I tell her, "If you're too weak to work the lighter you shouldn't be smoking." This particular strategy seems to be having an ambivalent effect: Once in awhile she gives up but mostly she keeps working until she gets the lighter activated, which, in a sense, is good...the exercise is increasing the strength of her fingers. I'm hoping that, although this is a slow road, it will be a road leading to a successful destination. Although I do believe that if she wants to compromise her internal health by smoking she has that right, at the same time I have been informing her constantly, and in no uncertain terms, that her external behavior is immediately dangerous to our property and the four lives housed within. Thus, I no longer allow her to smoke when I am not in the room monitoring her. She accepts this with equanimity even when I have to leave the room while she is in the middle of a cigarette and I take it from her. I've also been talking up the specific benefits to her of not smoking: Being able to use oxygen less, not being bothered by congestion nearly as much as now, an overall improvement in all her internal health indicators. I don't know if this is working but I do know that every time I start on her she automatically extinguishes the cigarette she's smoking. None of this is causing her any irritation. I seem to be the only one exhibiting agitation when I find myself spending hours during the day monitoring her smoking in order to keep us all safe.
On my own plus side, it was brought to my attention last Friday when we visited the Valley that all the exercise I've been getting since Mom injured her back has tightened and firmed me in ways I am now beginning to appreciate. Because I decided to practice the back exercises she was unable to perform a few months ago in order to avoid the chronic back problems which seem to plague the women in our family, my back is stronger than it's been in a long time. My arms, chest and abdominals have fallen into line as well and heavy lifting and supporting Mom (which I still need to do at least a few times a day) have become a breeze. My legs don't ever tire anymore. Everyone we met on Friday commented on how toned I appeared. Our divine Mesa next door neighbor mentioned that she was surprised at my energy level. "I didn't think you could be more energetic than you were, but you are." She confirmed that the same thing happened to her when she was taking care of her husband. "I know what you mean," I responded. "I can crouch and stand, crouch and stand, either flat-footed or on toe, forever, now," an exercise I've been forced to practice every morning during my mother's 20 minute complete body wash, sometimes twice a day, depending on how much liquid she sheds during her afternoon nap (if she takes one...she's been eschewing these more often, lately). On Saturday I spent some morning time pulling dead weeds in the back of our property and was surprised to discover that I was waddling quickly from weed to weed without needing to stand. As I did some months ago, I murmured a heartfelt, psychic thanks to my mother for the opportunity her back injury has granted me to become stronger in several ways, not the least of which is physically. As one of my mother's Mesa PCP nurses said on Friday, "You never know whether a tragedy is an opportunity in disguise."
Time to get my mother moving. It's going to be a beautiful day, high in the low 70's. It will be our 3rd day of completely opening up the house until after sundown. The cats are thrilled and my mother is enjoying this home even more than before. And me? Well, as I mentioned to my mother yesterday, "Now, we'll be able to have the house open almost constantly until the end of October." We were lucky if we were able to have the house in Mesa completely open, day and night, three months out of the year.
"Wonderful," she enthused as she spied on our neighbors across the street and strained to hear their conversation through our screened windows. She's a natural voyeur and loves the variety of activity that takes place in the yards around us up here. Interestingly, despite the fact that her nostalgia for our Mesa home was activated by our brief visit there last Friday, while we were relaxing between appointments she mentioned that there wasn't "as much to see" there as here. If all goes well, our spring, summer and fall in this snug, perfectly placed home on this inviting, energizing section of earth will be one of her best Ancient years, yet.
She knows I'm adding straight cinnamon to her diet. She's mentioned, since I've been putting it in her V-8 juice, that she likes the flavor of the juice better. The second day I used it, a day I recorded here, she asked if I was using a different brand of vegetable juice and said she liked it. I purchased cinnamon sticks to use in tea but since I've purchased them we've had tea only once.
I expect that we'll be having tea more and more. Her smoking has become personally dangerous externally: Interpreted, this means that she is becoming somewhat more careless when handling cigarettes. She's singed her hair twice in the last 3 weeks and almost lit her bathrobe (thank god it is flame retardant) once. She is also dropping ashes and embers more than before and is holding her cigarettes so long that they burn down to the filter and threaten to burn her fingers.
I don't think it's the nicotine that's the attraction for her anymore but rather the activity of holding the cigarette. I believe I mentioned once before that she holds her cigarette in exactly the manner portrayed in movies produced during the late 1930's through the mid 1940's. She picked up smoking when she was in the Navy as near as I can determine and she can remember so this figures. The activity is most likely a psychological cue for her, allowing her to feel the way she felt during some of the best, most exciting years of her life. I was stunned when we watched Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and her cigarette behavior was portrayed exactly by the female lead.
MCS surmised that replacing her cigarette behavior might help and suggested daily, frequent Tea Times, which is a good idea although I haven't yet been able to implement these regularly because she is still working on the carton she had when I decided to initiate The Quitting Sequence. She is smoking quite a bit less than before, in part because I have also instituted a type of aversion therapy when she lights a cigarette. I hound her mercilessly to place her cigarette in the ashtray between puffs. Since a lot of her smoking occurs when we are watching programs on TV or movies, this hounding is usually accompanied by muting a show or pausing a movie. It's terribly distracting for me, but not for Mom. When she has trouble activating a lighter I tell her, "If you're too weak to work the lighter you shouldn't be smoking." This particular strategy seems to be having an ambivalent effect: Once in awhile she gives up but mostly she keeps working until she gets the lighter activated, which, in a sense, is good...the exercise is increasing the strength of her fingers. I'm hoping that, although this is a slow road, it will be a road leading to a successful destination. Although I do believe that if she wants to compromise her internal health by smoking she has that right, at the same time I have been informing her constantly, and in no uncertain terms, that her external behavior is immediately dangerous to our property and the four lives housed within. Thus, I no longer allow her to smoke when I am not in the room monitoring her. She accepts this with equanimity even when I have to leave the room while she is in the middle of a cigarette and I take it from her. I've also been talking up the specific benefits to her of not smoking: Being able to use oxygen less, not being bothered by congestion nearly as much as now, an overall improvement in all her internal health indicators. I don't know if this is working but I do know that every time I start on her she automatically extinguishes the cigarette she's smoking. None of this is causing her any irritation. I seem to be the only one exhibiting agitation when I find myself spending hours during the day monitoring her smoking in order to keep us all safe.
On my own plus side, it was brought to my attention last Friday when we visited the Valley that all the exercise I've been getting since Mom injured her back has tightened and firmed me in ways I am now beginning to appreciate. Because I decided to practice the back exercises she was unable to perform a few months ago in order to avoid the chronic back problems which seem to plague the women in our family, my back is stronger than it's been in a long time. My arms, chest and abdominals have fallen into line as well and heavy lifting and supporting Mom (which I still need to do at least a few times a day) have become a breeze. My legs don't ever tire anymore. Everyone we met on Friday commented on how toned I appeared. Our divine Mesa next door neighbor mentioned that she was surprised at my energy level. "I didn't think you could be more energetic than you were, but you are." She confirmed that the same thing happened to her when she was taking care of her husband. "I know what you mean," I responded. "I can crouch and stand, crouch and stand, either flat-footed or on toe, forever, now," an exercise I've been forced to practice every morning during my mother's 20 minute complete body wash, sometimes twice a day, depending on how much liquid she sheds during her afternoon nap (if she takes one...she's been eschewing these more often, lately). On Saturday I spent some morning time pulling dead weeds in the back of our property and was surprised to discover that I was waddling quickly from weed to weed without needing to stand. As I did some months ago, I murmured a heartfelt, psychic thanks to my mother for the opportunity her back injury has granted me to become stronger in several ways, not the least of which is physically. As one of my mother's Mesa PCP nurses said on Friday, "You never know whether a tragedy is an opportunity in disguise."
Time to get my mother moving. It's going to be a beautiful day, high in the low 70's. It will be our 3rd day of completely opening up the house until after sundown. The cats are thrilled and my mother is enjoying this home even more than before. And me? Well, as I mentioned to my mother yesterday, "Now, we'll be able to have the house open almost constantly until the end of October." We were lucky if we were able to have the house in Mesa completely open, day and night, three months out of the year.
"Wonderful," she enthused as she spied on our neighbors across the street and strained to hear their conversation through our screened windows. She's a natural voyeur and loves the variety of activity that takes place in the yards around us up here. Interestingly, despite the fact that her nostalgia for our Mesa home was activated by our brief visit there last Friday, while we were relaxing between appointments she mentioned that there wasn't "as much to see" there as here. If all goes well, our spring, summer and fall in this snug, perfectly placed home on this inviting, energizing section of earth will be one of her best Ancient years, yet.
Sunday, March 7, 2004
Again, it's been awhile...
...much longer than I intended. Had two more Christmas Card snows that were gone within 24 hours. We've been to Mesa twice, once last week to renew our relationship with her Mesa PCP. Yep, my mother was "discharged" from our Prescott PCP's care because I refused to allow this doctor's partner to endoscope her. Since this physician has done nothing but renew my mother's prescription for blood test strips and write another prescription for physical therapy which the discharge pulled out from underneath her, I was neither surprised nor upset. There will be more here about this, shortly, in the essay section. The Prescott PCP's letter and the circumstances of this physician's "care" of my mother set my "Doctors and Patience" essay up perfectly, gave it some organization and it's close to ready to load. I almost loaded it last week. I'm glad I couldn't find the time. Our visit to Mesa added some detail to it.
In the meantime, my mother continues to improve under my and the acupuncturist's care, so much that I've taken two of her appointments to have my thumbs treated with very good results. I'm planning on taking a few more appointments as well. I've had a problem with my feet for years, since I was a teenager, actually. I assumed it was because some bones in the tops of my feet were broken and I've simply borne it, moving anyway, sometimes with great pain. I didn't mention this to the acupuncturist. Despite not mentioning it this problem seems to have been licked. My thumb problem (which is how I refer to it, since it is primarily my thumbs that are affected by the tendon problem) is a bit more recalcitrant but coming along.
The most interesting aspect of the treatments is that I've been able to acquire a sensual understanding of what my mother's treatments are like. During the first treatment the acupuncturist placed needles all over me...arms, legs, top of the head. She activated what I can only describe as a web of energy. Once the needles were inserted she told me to lay and relax for fifteen minutes. As I said, "O.K." I lifted my right index finger and moved my left big toe. Yeow! The only way I can describe what I felt was that it was as though I had been zapped by a current of electricity (which has happened to me), running in a specific pattern throughout my body. Incredible feeling! Not painful but not comfortable, either. I was held tight in the web; couldn't move without zapping myself. I accidentally zapped myself once more and noticed that, each time, I was getting a mental picture of web strands throughout my body colored just-this-side-of-white lavender-to-the-blue and shimmering.
The second time the needles were placed at what I assume were primary points and stung for a second or two, except for one of two on the top of my head, the one closest to my forehead, which stung for a good 20 seconds. Didn't get the "web" feeling, but got a mental picture of shimmering pure red.
Last week I took my mother in for a "tune-up" before our visit to her Mesa PCP. I'm not sure who'll be visiting the acupuncturist this week.
My mother's performance this week has been amazing. Despite having some difficulty getting around, when we were in Mesa she insisted on walking everywhere we went rather than using the wheelchair. She still bends a bit to the right although that is improving. Some mornings she is able to stand practically straight. Her blood pressure was excellent on Thursday. I'm not sure if she's still anemic. We'll find out next Wednesday when we return for the results of an abdominal ultrasound done to determine whether or not she has a "mild" abdominal aortic aneurysm that her former Prescott PCP chose to clue us into in the discharge letter. She had to lay on her back for this test and did fairly well since she was on oxygen. She can't rise from this position herself, but the acupuncturist had her on her back for her last treatment and although she coughed because I hadn't brought the oxygen. She didn't want it and I didn't think she'd need it although if I'd known she was going to be treated on her back I would have brought it. She was able to raise from laying on her back while I held her arms and counseled her to tighten her abdominals.
I've done my reading on abdominal aortic aneurysms. If she has one, "mild" would refer to its size, which would be well under 5 cm. The typical treatment is to "watch" it. The main problem associated with "mild" aneurysms is that clots can form at the site of the aneurysm, break off and travel to other parts of the body. The secondary problem, which can become the primary problem depending on the size of the aneurysm, is rupture.
The truth is, I'm wondering if she has one, at all. Apparently, according to the discharge letter, the possibility of the existence of this aneurysm was mentioned in the x-ray report from 10/27/04 when she was treated in the ER for her back. I'm a little surprised that her former Prescott PCP didn't requisition these x-rays sooner. I wonder, now, if they would have been requisitioned at all if we'd continued under this physician's care. I never asked for a copy of this report because the technician, after x-raying my mother, seemed to be very complete in his verbal report, mentioning several conditions about which I already knew from previous x-rays. Now I think I'll get a copy of the report for us just out of curiosity. At the same time I'm also going to request a written copy of the colonoscopy report as I'm beginning to wonder if the internist who did my mother's colonoscopy wrote the same information in the report that I received from her verbally, face-to-face, immediately after the procedure.
Oh, just to mention it for those of my sisters checking in to whom I haven't talked in awhile, yes, we have a new prescription for physical therapy with the same therapist our Prescott PCP pulled out from underneath us. The Eval & Treat will probably take place this week.
After a very good day in Mesa on Friday and a day spent in bed yesterday which tried my patience, today Mom and I went to Costco to pick up some small items. We took the wheelchair. I assured her that my only request was that she use it as a walker on our way in and out. Otherwise, she could ride through the store. She insisted, though, on walking throughout the store. We made a complete circle of the warehouse, which was necessary, as the four items we needed were, of course, at each of the four corners. Our progress wasn't even as slow as I expected. I was amazed. She was not. She had no desire to ride until we reached the check-out counter. Afterwards it was impossible to get her past the luncheonette without replenishing her with a polish sausage with sauerkraut and a diet soda. Expecting this, I'd brought her metformin and iron. We ate and people-watched and I couldn't help but admire her color and her mood. On our way out one of the door attendants who checks receipts and has noticed my mother's zig-zag progress throughout the past few months, often asking after her when I show up at Costco alone (several of the employees, in fact, do this), mentioned to my mother that she was "so happy" to see her traipse about the store today and congratulated her on her progress. Mom beamed all the way home. Once we arrived home and she was settled in her rocking chair she said, "I always feel so good after we go to that store!"
Friday evening just before we left Mesa our divine next door neighbor appeared and waylaid me while I was packing up the car, wanting to know how we'd been. I briefed her on what had happened since we left last September and why she hadn't seen us since. My mother ventured out to admire the sunset while our neighbor and I were talking. Our neighbor made over her, took my mother's face tenderly in her hands and kissed her, telling her how worried she'd been and how glad she was that Mom was looking so good. "We can't have you leaving us, yet, dear," she said, "we all depend on you being here."
My mother laughed. "Oh, don't worry. I'll be here for a long time."
I'm thinking she might be right.
It takes a village to care for Ancient Ones. Between Prescott and Mesa I think Mom and I have stumbled upon exactly the right village.
In the meantime, my mother continues to improve under my and the acupuncturist's care, so much that I've taken two of her appointments to have my thumbs treated with very good results. I'm planning on taking a few more appointments as well. I've had a problem with my feet for years, since I was a teenager, actually. I assumed it was because some bones in the tops of my feet were broken and I've simply borne it, moving anyway, sometimes with great pain. I didn't mention this to the acupuncturist. Despite not mentioning it this problem seems to have been licked. My thumb problem (which is how I refer to it, since it is primarily my thumbs that are affected by the tendon problem) is a bit more recalcitrant but coming along.
The most interesting aspect of the treatments is that I've been able to acquire a sensual understanding of what my mother's treatments are like. During the first treatment the acupuncturist placed needles all over me...arms, legs, top of the head. She activated what I can only describe as a web of energy. Once the needles were inserted she told me to lay and relax for fifteen minutes. As I said, "O.K." I lifted my right index finger and moved my left big toe. Yeow! The only way I can describe what I felt was that it was as though I had been zapped by a current of electricity (which has happened to me), running in a specific pattern throughout my body. Incredible feeling! Not painful but not comfortable, either. I was held tight in the web; couldn't move without zapping myself. I accidentally zapped myself once more and noticed that, each time, I was getting a mental picture of web strands throughout my body colored just-this-side-of-white lavender-to-the-blue and shimmering.
The second time the needles were placed at what I assume were primary points and stung for a second or two, except for one of two on the top of my head, the one closest to my forehead, which stung for a good 20 seconds. Didn't get the "web" feeling, but got a mental picture of shimmering pure red.
Last week I took my mother in for a "tune-up" before our visit to her Mesa PCP. I'm not sure who'll be visiting the acupuncturist this week.
My mother's performance this week has been amazing. Despite having some difficulty getting around, when we were in Mesa she insisted on walking everywhere we went rather than using the wheelchair. She still bends a bit to the right although that is improving. Some mornings she is able to stand practically straight. Her blood pressure was excellent on Thursday. I'm not sure if she's still anemic. We'll find out next Wednesday when we return for the results of an abdominal ultrasound done to determine whether or not she has a "mild" abdominal aortic aneurysm that her former Prescott PCP chose to clue us into in the discharge letter. She had to lay on her back for this test and did fairly well since she was on oxygen. She can't rise from this position herself, but the acupuncturist had her on her back for her last treatment and although she coughed because I hadn't brought the oxygen. She didn't want it and I didn't think she'd need it although if I'd known she was going to be treated on her back I would have brought it. She was able to raise from laying on her back while I held her arms and counseled her to tighten her abdominals.
I've done my reading on abdominal aortic aneurysms. If she has one, "mild" would refer to its size, which would be well under 5 cm. The typical treatment is to "watch" it. The main problem associated with "mild" aneurysms is that clots can form at the site of the aneurysm, break off and travel to other parts of the body. The secondary problem, which can become the primary problem depending on the size of the aneurysm, is rupture.
The truth is, I'm wondering if she has one, at all. Apparently, according to the discharge letter, the possibility of the existence of this aneurysm was mentioned in the x-ray report from 10/27/04 when she was treated in the ER for her back. I'm a little surprised that her former Prescott PCP didn't requisition these x-rays sooner. I wonder, now, if they would have been requisitioned at all if we'd continued under this physician's care. I never asked for a copy of this report because the technician, after x-raying my mother, seemed to be very complete in his verbal report, mentioning several conditions about which I already knew from previous x-rays. Now I think I'll get a copy of the report for us just out of curiosity. At the same time I'm also going to request a written copy of the colonoscopy report as I'm beginning to wonder if the internist who did my mother's colonoscopy wrote the same information in the report that I received from her verbally, face-to-face, immediately after the procedure.
Oh, just to mention it for those of my sisters checking in to whom I haven't talked in awhile, yes, we have a new prescription for physical therapy with the same therapist our Prescott PCP pulled out from underneath us. The Eval & Treat will probably take place this week.
After a very good day in Mesa on Friday and a day spent in bed yesterday which tried my patience, today Mom and I went to Costco to pick up some small items. We took the wheelchair. I assured her that my only request was that she use it as a walker on our way in and out. Otherwise, she could ride through the store. She insisted, though, on walking throughout the store. We made a complete circle of the warehouse, which was necessary, as the four items we needed were, of course, at each of the four corners. Our progress wasn't even as slow as I expected. I was amazed. She was not. She had no desire to ride until we reached the check-out counter. Afterwards it was impossible to get her past the luncheonette without replenishing her with a polish sausage with sauerkraut and a diet soda. Expecting this, I'd brought her metformin and iron. We ate and people-watched and I couldn't help but admire her color and her mood. On our way out one of the door attendants who checks receipts and has noticed my mother's zig-zag progress throughout the past few months, often asking after her when I show up at Costco alone (several of the employees, in fact, do this), mentioned to my mother that she was "so happy" to see her traipse about the store today and congratulated her on her progress. Mom beamed all the way home. Once we arrived home and she was settled in her rocking chair she said, "I always feel so good after we go to that store!"
Friday evening just before we left Mesa our divine next door neighbor appeared and waylaid me while I was packing up the car, wanting to know how we'd been. I briefed her on what had happened since we left last September and why she hadn't seen us since. My mother ventured out to admire the sunset while our neighbor and I were talking. Our neighbor made over her, took my mother's face tenderly in her hands and kissed her, telling her how worried she'd been and how glad she was that Mom was looking so good. "We can't have you leaving us, yet, dear," she said, "we all depend on you being here."
My mother laughed. "Oh, don't worry. I'll be here for a long time."
I'm thinking she might be right.
It takes a village to care for Ancient Ones. Between Prescott and Mesa I think Mom and I have stumbled upon exactly the right village.
