If my life has a score right now, it's elevator music because of the ups and downs. ::sigh::

We had another one of those days that started out hopefully and has deteriorated badly. I did get Mother to eat some Rice Krispies this morning, although she said I was nagging her. At eleven, Wendy from Social Services came over. We discussed what the hospice could do if I wanted to take Mom home with me for a while and tried to get some closure on the DNR/living will business but it never was quite settled. But Wendy did seem to think it was a good idea.

Just after she left the hospice folks sent a Sister over; she is one of the hospice chaplains. She and Mom had a long talk while I cleaned the kitchen and then went in the bedroom and read a St. Nicholas; I figured this was a private spiritual moment and I kept out of it. Mom also had Holy Communion.

I had called the doctor this morning to get a refill on Mom's pain patches, but because they are narcotics, they can't call in the prescription. So we had to drive up to the doctor's office to get them. Instead of going through the "front," which is shorter, but has more lights and is more city streets, I went through the "back," down Plainfield Pike past Neutaconkanut Hill (darn, it was a lot higher when I was younger) and through Killingly Street and Fruit Hill Avenue where I cut through my old alma mater, Rhode Island College, to get to the doctor's office.

(I got a heck of a shock as we passed a vacant lot on Killingly: they had torn down my grandfather and grandmother's—Mom's parents—house, the one they lived in from 1949 to when they both died in 1963. I also asked my mom, when we got to what is now her doctor's office and the hospice, what did this building used to be? It is brick, obviously very old, with towers and a bas relief on the front of what I thought was a Madonna and Child. It was, in a way; it's a mother and child. Mom pointed to the front door, and said, "See that, two floors up and three windows over? That's where I had you." So this was the old "Lying-In," before they built the newer one closer to Rhode Island Hospital and then renamed in more in style with the times, "Woman and Infants Hospital.")

So we picked up the prescription, then went across the street to Newport Creamery and had ice cream again (hey, any way that I can get food into her). Then, since we were so close to Roger Williams Hospital anyway, we went to see my cousin Anna. If I hadn't mentioned it before, Anna was admitted to the hospital last Saturday with a blood clot and an infection in her leg. Poor woman doesn't have enough to go through. She also had surgery last week and it wasn't healing properly, probably a combination of her diabetes and the blood thinners they have her on for the clot, so the doctor had to open up the incision and fix something. She's also anemic.

Mom sat and talked to her for a while while I relaxed and read Gladys Taber. I had to bring some books for emotional support; it was a tossup what I should bring, since when I am feeling emotionally drained I usually rely on Madeleine L'Engle's nonfiction. But I tried to keep the weight down and brought my Gladys Taber paperbacks instead. Taber writes such prose poetry about country living that it is a warm and comforting verbal blanket.

We then went by Walgreen's. The hospital corridors were long and Mom was tired out by the time we got home. We sat for a while and I finally made some soup. I don't know if it was just the vagaries of the tumor or we just did too much, but she started complaining about the pain again, to the point of tears. I pleaded with her to take a Percoset, or even half a Percoset, but she refused, and it was all I could do to get her to take some Tylenol. I swore to her that if she took the Percoset I would keep a close eye on her, but she wouldn't do it.

So I'm basically sitting here in the mostly dark so she can sleep and am watching stuff on PBS.

(Funny, I just went to our web page to look up a link. I have a javascript dingus at the top that rotates a different quote every time you reload the page. The one that came up when I loaded the page was Father Mulcahy's closing words from the M*A*S*H episode "Dear Sis": "It doesn't matter whether you feel useful or not when you're moving from one disaster to another. The trick, I guess, is to just keep moving." Ain't that the truth?)

----------------------------------------------------------------
. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 8:29:00 PM

Comments:

Aaron is trying to learn a video game I've got called StarScape, from Moonpod games. It's a basic 2D shooter with very nice graphics - but one thing he can't quite get is the concept that he has to keep moving or he WILL get hit and he'll blow up. And while you're moving you've got to do other things such as shoot at the mining barge and the other ships trying to shoot you.

Re pain control - tylenol's better than nothing, but you might want to consider upping the dose by 50% if she can take it without stomach upset. Sure wish Sue was there - I think she could reassure your mother that it was okay to take the pain meds in the dosage prescribed. But trying to get your folks to change thought patterns set for decades can be pretty darn hard. (Like I'm STILL trying to convince my folks to bail and get out here to GA...)

Do you think it would help if Sue gave your mom a call?

Jerry

# posted by  Jerry : 7:50:00 AM

 

Post a Comment