I had lunch with my mother yesterday.
As days go, it was more less normal, but occasionally I like to record
how the day went, so I can track whether I see deterioration or not.
I got stuck trying to solve a thorny computer
problem and suddenly it was nearly 11:30. I usually leave here at
11:15 and we frequently go to lunch at 11:30 or a little after, so I called
to let her know I might be a little late and not to go to lunch before I got
there. She sounded groggy and I asked if I woke her up. Most of
the time these days, I wake her up when I get there for lunch. She
swears she only naps occasionally, but I think she naps in the morning and
again in the afternoon.
When I got to the apartment, her paper was
still in the box where they put it in the morning. That is the first
thing I always check, to give me an idea of whether she might have died in
the night or not. But since I had just talked with her 15 minutes
before, I figured chances were good that she was still alive.
But
when I knocked there was no answer, so I finally started to dig out my key
when she opened the door. Her hair was flying in all directions and
she looked like this picture of Albert Einstein (without the moustache).
That was when she told me that she just woke up, that she had
difficulty sleeping the night before and was shocked when she woke up to
discover that it was nearly 11:30.
She is always disoriented when she first
wakes up and today was even more so, since she had just awakened after
several hours of sleep.
She finished brushing her hair and putting on
makeup and brought me her lipstick to show me that it was pretty much gone.
I reminded her I had bought her two lipsticks a week ago, which, of course,
she did not remember, and we went searching for them, but couldn't find them
in the bathroom, where she keeps her makeup.
I finally found them on the dresser in her
bedroom, so that crisis was averted. She repeated, as she has every
single day since she moved here two years ago, that she is going to have to
start keeping a list so she can remember what she wanted to talk to me about
(to date there has never been a list).
I told her that I had thrown out the loaf of
bread that was in her freezer, since I bought it for her when she first
moved in two years ago and I didn't think it would be any good now. I
wanted to be sure she didn't find it in the garbage and take it out again.
We had the usual "I'm old" discussion and the
talk about how much she likes at Atria and, to my surprise, she mentioned
that she had made a few friends here. That's the first time she has
said that.
We went off to lunch and she headed for the
table where Margaret and Robert sat, where we usually sit, but there had
been two people there before us and so there was no clean place settings and
we sat at the next table, but as we passed Robert, she greeted him (not by
name, of course) and told me he was her friend. She later indicated
Margaret and told me she was a nice lady.
As we sat down, she suddenly could not get
her breath and for a minute I was ready to get someone to come and help, as
she bent down toward the table and held her chest and tried to breathe.
But the incident was over in a couple of seconds and after that she was
fine.
As she does every single day she perused the
menu thoughtfully and then chose fruit salad and vegetable soup, but had to
refer back to the menu several times to remember what she was going to have,
though she has it every day. And, as always, she took the broth from
the soup and left the vegetables.
We were joined by a man who has probably had
a stroke. He is worse off than she is. Very pleasant guy, but
could not get his words out and would start talking and then forget what he
was going to say.
We went back to the apartment and I did some
flower arranging for her. I had brought her a floral arrangement at
Easter, pink and yellow carnations in a nice basket with a big bow on it.
Talk about getting a bang for your buck. She has raved and raved over
how beautiful the arrangement was, even as the flowers died off and she was
left with only dried fern in the backet. She always asks if I brought
her the basket. She said she didn't understand why the flowers died, because
she kept watering them. I have suggested throwing the basket out, but
she says she likes looking at it.
I had brought her fresh flowers the last time
I was there to bring her pills and she put them in a vase but stuck the vase
in a dark corner where she couldn't see the flowers, so I took those flowers
and put them in the basket with the dried ferns and now she thinks that the
basket is the one I brought her at Easter time, which is nice because she
seems to spend her day looking at either the flowers or out the window at
the trees. She loves plants so much. Ed brought her a lovely
orchid plant at Christmas and though it has been totally dead for months,
she has hung a plastic lei on it and it still stands there so she has
"something pretty to look at."
She has mentioned that she "has to do
something with her hair" and I offered to make an appointment with the hair
dresser for her, but she wants to "think about it" first. I didn't
press her on it, but when I have free time I'll just make the appointment
and take her. That's the only way she will ever go.
I picked up her laundry to bring home to
wash. I pointed out that I have only done underwear for the past month
and didn't her other clothes need washing? She wears the same 3
outfits in rotation every day, despite having a full closet of clothes, but
she insists they aren't dirty and when they are, she'll give them to me to
wash. Whatever.
No comments:
Post a Comment