Castoff Day

Today was the big day!  It was the day my mother was having her cast off. 

When I told her, thinking it would make her happy, she didn't know what I was talking about and when I pointed to her cast, she said "what is that and why do I have it?"

I had to encourage her to get up and come with me.  She didn't realize that "we are going to the doctor" meant that she had to actually get up and go to the doctor.

But we got her in the car and I had Walt go the "scenic route," out the back roads instead of  the freeway because I knew how many orchards were in bloom and thought she'd enjoy that, though she didn't seem to understand when I pointed out the trees. Sigh.

When we were last at Kaiser, they gave me an appointment for 3:30, but then I got a reminder from them yesterday saying that the appointment was for 2:30, and to get there early so she could have an x-ray.

We got there at 1:45 and were told that her appointment wasn't until 3:30....and that she didn't need an x-ray.  Sigh.  It would be nice if the left hand talked to the right hand!

But they weren't busy and they took her right away (as a matter of fact, we were back at Atria before 3:30!)

A P.C named Kevin (I told him Kevin was a nice name, but not as nice as "Sundance," the PC who took care of us the last two times!) took the cast off.  When he came toward her with the little saw that takes it off and asked her to give him her arm, she opened her mouth wide.  She thought he was a dentist.  Sigh.

She winced during the sawing process, but I suspect it was more from anticipation than from actual pain.  And then it was over.  No more cast.  She still has some pain, which Kevin says is to be expected, and doesn't know why her wrist is hurting and doesn't remember ever having a cast.  But at least it's done.  Now if only we can keep her upright with all bones intact.

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Earlier in the day, I went shopping.  I have to admit I was a bit taken aback by the sticker shock.  I don't think I ever go over $200 (or even near that much!) in a normal shopping trip that is NOT for a holiday meal.

But we were out of pretty much everything.  I really don't like shopping any more and the wonderfulness of delivered meals is that you don't have to shop and don't have to plan.  But they DO only deliver 3 meals a week, so unless there are leftovers, you have 4 other days to cook.

Any shopping trip that involves buying meat is already an expensive trip.  And I was out of my multi-vitamins and my Vitamin-B, both of which the doctor says I should take, and that's a big cost right there. 

On this trip, I also paid attention to the odd fruits I had not seen before, like the "Sumo Citrus" which looked like tangerines on steroids....big and muscular (someone said that they are really quite good).  I was particularly intrigued by the rambutan and passion fruit.

I knew of passion fruit (the ones on the right) but don't know that I'd ever seen one...but I had neither seen nor heard of rambutan, which is apparently a fruit native to Southeast Asia.  It sounds suspiciously like a relative of the odious durian, so though Wikipedia tells me it's tasty, I probably won't be intrigued enough to buy one.

We are all stocked up now and with luck I won't have to go to the store again for several weeks, except for that one thing I forgot, which of course I remembered as soon as I left the store.

When I got home, I was moved to write to the manager of the store and commend the bagger, a guy who must be close to 7' tall and whose name was Patrick.  My complaint with most baggers is that even if you specifically ask them to pack the reusable bags you dutifully bring to the store with you light, they seem determined to fit as much as they can into one bag and leave 10 bags empty.  When I complain, they tell me not to worry--that they will carry the bags to the car for me.  My question of whether they will then come home with me and carry the bags into the house goes unanswered (and my wit unappreciated).  Patrick first asked me if I wanted the bags to be packed light, then he packed one bag and had me test it for weight.  When all the bags were loaded in the cart, he started to push it to the car and then stopped and asked if I'd prefer to push it myself (which I appreciated, since I use the cart as a quasi cane).  He was so considerate and friendly that I thought the manager should know what an impression he made on me.

Collision

We almost had a head-on collision the other day.

I had gone to Atria to pick my mother up for her new orthopedist appointment, to have her cast replaced (because the swelling has now gone down and the cast was too loose).  I've noticed new people in the memory unit lately.  Like the lady who always sits in the foyer in her wheel chair asking everyone when someone is going to pick her up.  They always tell her "tomorrow" and I suspect nobody ever comes to pick her up.

There's also the very nice lady who carries around a stuffed kitten wrapped in a blanket, holding it like a baby, who walks close to us so that she can escape out the door if we leave (the aids are good at redirecting her).

My mother's "friend" Loretta, who lives across the hall from her seems to have a new roommate.  As I went to my mother's apartment she was coming out, with her walker, arguing with the helper she had that she did not want to be walking with the walker.

I got a jacket for my mother and walked down to meet her, halfway to the back door.  By the time we got her jacket on her, the walker lady had walked the length of the hall and was on her way back.  She saw us standing there, aimed her walker directly at us and sped up  We had to grab my mother out of the way or she would have run right into us.

Exciting times at "the home."

The doctor appointment went well, though she still doesn't know why she's there or why her arm hurts.  

 (I loved the tattoo on the guy who put on her new cast)

 

 She seemed more fragile and more depressed than the last time, which doesn't surprise me.   This accident has done something to her stamina.

 

We dropped her off at home and then the next day I went to visit and be there so Jeri could call her.  I told her that Jeri would be calling and she didn't know who that was (she also thought I was a "nice lady").  I said that Jeri was her granddaughter and she said "I didn't know I had a granddaughter; I guess I've never met her."

While waiting for Jeri to call, she seemed to fall asleep.  I let her sleep and by the time Jeri called, she was out.  Like one of her passing out spells.  I couldn't wake her up, so Jeri couldn't talk to her.  After we hung up, I tried again to wake her up, to no avail.

I went to the person who run the memory unit and suggested to her that they leave her be and check on her in an hour.  I fully expected to get a call telling me they had sent her to the ER, but no.  I guess she woke up on her own.

I told Walt I've decided that these spells are "practice dying" spells and that one day she just won't wake up again.  If only she could end her life that peacefully.

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We were back in the theater Saturday night, after about a 3 week hiatus.

We saw The Nether, a play by Jennifer Haley. "I don't know what I just saw, but I loved it," Walt said when it was over.

I checked with the wife of one of the other critics for her opinion.  "I hated it," she said (which didn't surprise me!)

"I'm sure glad you're writing this review and not me," said another critic.

Another recently retired critic expressed disappointment that he had nobody to write a review for because he found it an enjoyable challenge.

This is a kinda sci fi story taking place in some dystopian world, when technology has evolved enough to allow people to enter a virtual realm on the internet and interact with the virtual people there.

The site was set up by a confessed pedophile, who finds this a way to release his urges without any danger to any real children in his real life.  Apparently part of the experience is having sex with children and then killing them.  But since they are androids, they can regenerate and you can do it again.

It's all very creepy, but written so well and acted so well that I found myself enjoying it, though it does open up the doors for all sorts of discussions about morality!

A Cloud of Pain

I don't remember the last time I had any sort of major pain.  I have been fortunate in that regard.  It probably was 2003, when I had my bike accident and dislocated my shoulder. But the thing I remember about that time is that when you are in that much pain, it's like you are living inside a cloud of pain, oblivious to everything around you. 

Looking at my mother today, that's all I could think of.  She was in this big cloud of pain and nothing outside the cloud registered with her.

Of course she was not wearing her splint.  They've taken to calling her "Houdini" for how quickly she can get out of it.

The wrist was much more swollen and discolored and every little thing that touched it, or came near it, caused her to cry out in pain.  I think if she could have taken a pill to end her life then and there she would have.

And of course she doesn't know why it hurts.  And she can't understand that the splint is to protect it so that she can't accidentally brush it against anything (she told me she didn't know anything about a splint and guessed she didn't have one).

I told one of the aids today that I have noticed a significant decline in her cognitive functioning recently and she agreed and said "sometimes it comes on suddenly."  At 98, that's not surprising.  I suspect that even after the wrist has healed, she will have taken another step down from which she probably won't recover.

Today was her appointment with the orthopedist and we had to check in an hour early so she could get an x-ray.  Of course I couldn't stay in the room with all the rays flying around, so I don't know how much the manipulation of her wrist to get four shots hurt her, but I suspect a lot.

Then back to ortho to wait for her to be called.  Her official appointment time was not until 2:50, so we had about 45 minutes to wait and after about 40 minutes, she had to go to the bathroom.  This was my first time with bathroom duty for her and getting the wheelchair into the ladies room was almost impossible and with her unable to understand such commands as "hold the bar while I move the wheelchair" made it even more difficult.  I finally got her to understand she should hold onto the metal bar while I moved the wheelchair out of the way, but then she couldn't understand that she had to lower her body to the toilet.  Trying to manipulate her I couldn't help at brush her wrist several times and each time she let out a mournful groan.

I suspect this is something I will get better at doing.

They finally called her back to a room and the certified physician's assistant came in. I have to admit I'd never met a medical person named "Sundance" before!  She was very sweet and very patient and said that it was a bad break, that they had aligned it well in the ER and that it had shifted a bit, with all the splint on/splint off-ing. 

Said that she couldn't put a cast on her herself, so she called the wonderful Arthur, who got her all decked out in a bright green cast.

She was already picking at it before he'd left the room, but he assures me that it is solid and she won't be able to remove it.

I'm not convinced and I'll be curious to see what I find when I check on her tomorrow.

We dropped her back at Atria and I decided to let the aid take her to her room.  She was totally lost and confused and didn't know why I was there and I told her I'd see her tomorrow. 

I came home to take my now-normal post-Atria nap.  Unless she tears the cast off between now and next week, she won't have to return to Ortho until next Friday.

Castaway

This is how I ended yesterday's entry:

We finally got back to Atria and helped the aids get her settled in bed, though I will be interested to see how they found her this morning.

This is how I found her room.

And this is how I found her in the community room.

She was in pain and didn't understand why her arm hurt.  I've discovered that she not only has no short term memory, she also has selective hearing.  She doesn't want a broken wrist, so when you try to explain that her wrist is broken, she doesn't even hear you.

Since tomorrow is a holiday and it will be two days before Orthopedics will be open, I called the ER to find out what to do.  The Advice Nurse consulted with a doctor and said to bring her back to the ER.  And so instead of writing the article I was supposed to be writing, we were back at Atria and packing up a very reluctant mother to take her back to Kaiser.

We didn't have to wait TOO long in the cast room, but my mother was very irritated that people didn't come right away.  But we were there long enough for me to learn that my mother is really Adrian Monk (of the show Monk), who suffers from OCD.  It bothered her that the sheet on the gurney was untucked and she mentioned how much junk there was in the cast room.  (They think she may have fallen trying to pick something off the floor.  She is forever finding microscopic bits of something on the floor and leaning over the pick it up.  They keep warning her not to do that.  But of course she won't listen.)

The doctor and I talked about what we could do, since she can't have a plaster cast until the swelling goes down.  The doctor finally decided to try one of those splints that you have for carpal tunnel because even if she rips it off, it can easily be put back on again.

When we got that done, we drove back to Atria.  They had saved a plate of dinner for her and I sat with her for a bit (they brought her steak, a baked potato, and a roll, none of which she could eat with only one hand!).  I cut everything up for her and  then said I would be going home.  "Can't I go with you?" she asked.  When I told her that she lived at Atria, she was very frightened that I leave her alone in the place where she eats 3 meals a day because she didn't know anybody and didn't know what to do.  Walt and I ended up staying longer, but finally left and one of the aids promised to make sure she got back to her room all right.

Will she keep the splint on all night?  I don't have a clue.  But at least if/when she takes it off, it will be easy to put back on again.

Update:  They called me (and woke me up) at 6 a.m. to tell me she had removed the splint.  "Put it back on," I told them.

Take a Break

15 January, 2018

I love my sister-in-law.  She has such a positive outlook on life and is usually smiling or laughing.  She is interested in everybody.  I don't know anybody else, except Jeri, who is such a pleasant person to be around.

She and her husband, Joe, were in Sacramento for a surprise party for a friend of hers on Friday night, escaping the mudslides of Santa Barbara.  On Saturday we got together with the two of them, with Ned & Marta and with Walt's brother Norm and his wife Olivia.

We went to a nice upscale Mexican restaurant which was nicely decorated with these paper decorations all over the ceiling throughout the place.

We sat at the table and visited while waiting for Norm and Olivia to arrive.  They were driving up from Petaluma.

The restaurant doesn't have an extensive menu, but a nice selection and I had to laugh that when they delivered the plates, everybody but Ned and Marta had ordered the same thing--Enchilada Suisse, which was delicious

We closed the restaurant and then came home.  I sat in the recliner and immediately fell asleep, to be awakened by Walt poking me and holding out the telephone saying it was Kaiser calling.  It was about 11 p.m.

The doctor said that my mother had a fall and that she had broken -- I thought he said her rib, but it was actually her wrist.  The doctor said they would call when she was ready to go, but I knew she would be frightened, so we left right away and drove the 30 miles to the hospital.

My heart went out to her.  She was lying in the bed calling out, softly, "help me.  please help me."  She was happy to see me and the first thing she wanted me to do was to help her to sit up so she could help me.  But we wouldn't let her sit up because I thought she had a broken rib.  We had to fight to keep her down and explain to her over and over again where she was and why she was there.

The doctor finally came in with the supplies to put her in a cast while he sent Walt and me out to the waiting room, where we sat with barfing lady, a poor woman who had a barf bag and made horrible vomiting sounds every couple of minutes, as her bag slowly filled up.  It was lovely.  I was very happy when they finally took her into the back to examine her.

I was surprised to go back into the room and see my mother with a huge cast on her arm.  That's when I realized that she had broken her wrist.   

As I told Jeri this morning, my mother is a lovely woman who is very gracious and will do anything for anyone.  When she first saw me, she was scared in pain but the first thing she said was that she wanted to sit up so she could help me.  But when there is something wrong with her, she can be a real bitch.  She hates the look of the cast and the doctor said she had already torn it off once, so they had to strengthen it.  I had to keep her from trying to tear it off.  She still didn't know why she had to wear it or what had happened to her.

We finally got her into the car but first she complained of the cold, then of the discomfort of the car, and then the wait for Walt to pick up her meds at the pharmacy (many, many times), and all the while picking at the cast.  I got into the back sat with her to keep her from ripping at her cast.

We finally got back to Atria and helped the aids get her settled in bed, though I will be interested to see how they found her this morning.  It will probably take about six weeks for her to be in the cast.

I suspect it will be a long six weeks.