I was really afraid for Mom last night. Her mouth was all dry, but she had slid down into a position on the sofa where she couldn't drink from the glass, even with a straw, without spilling water all over her. And she was so hot.

The fever appears to have broken and she has been brighter this morning if not quite alert, which is expected since she really hasn't had a decent meal in days. She has downed a half bottle of Boost, two glasses of water, and all of her pills—she took the regular ones for me, but would not take the pain medication until Wendy (the lady from hospice) talked her into it. She's also used the bathroom and let me bathe her eye. Temperatures make her crazy, almost literally. She never got fevers until she was well into her 70s and the few times she has had a fever over 101°F she has ended up in the hospital after passing out.

Wendy is actually still looking optimistic about her getting to come back home with me. She says we can get special assists at the airport, but Mom needs to take her meds regularly and get stronger. I wish she would do as well with me as she does with Wendy, or Lynn (the regular nurse), or even my cousin Debbie. She seems reluctant to do things for me. Maybe it's because even at my age she still thinks of her as the "Mom" and me as the child? It is a puzzle and a problem.

It is cool right at the moment with a nice breeze, but it won't stay this way once the sun comes out. I hate the sun. It sucks every bit of energy from me.

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 1:31:00 PM

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