Tag Archive | mom

Another year, another holiday party

Today was the annual holiday luncheon at Mom’s care home. Yesterday I took her to get a haircut and roller set, Mom Headshot 12-9-17and the stylist did a really nice job. Mom looked lovely in her new sparkly green Christmas top, and she seemed to be feeling pretty good. She enjoyed the Honeybaked ham and, especially, the assortment of fancy deserts like macarons, ladyfingers and bon bons. And because it was a special occasion, they let her have 2 1/2 cups of coffee with her meal. (We just won’t tell the nephrologist about that.) My niece was late arriving, and it gets hard to make small talk with Mom these days, so I broke out the Scrabble game to keep us entertained.

Again, it was one of those parties where the guests only talk to the residents they came to visit and to the staff. But Jenny did make a point of introducing us to her brother (at least, I think that’s who he was) as he was seeing her to her room before departing. I also overheard another resident’s daughter talking about her 90th birthday next Thursday, the 14th. My dad’s birthday was December 14th. He would have been 92 this year. As I was sharing that with them, I realized that it was 10 years ago this month that he died. It feels like another lifetime. I was a different person back then, and so was Mom.

We both enjoyed catching up with Sarah, who took a break from finals week to come celebrate with her grandma.

Mom and Sarah 12-9-17

I’ve been a little short on holiday spirit this year, but it sure was nice to see Mom feeling festive and enjoying the celebrations. Mostly I’m just thankful that we made it through another year and she’s still kicking… or, as she always used to say, “perking right along!”

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Thankful

Thanksgiving was a little different this year. I’ve had to accept the fact that the days when I could have Mom come and stay with me for an entire holiday weekend are over. The seven steps into my building are impossible for her to manage now. My best friend graciously offered her ground floor apartment for our co-hosted Thanksgiving dinner this year, and I was thankful that Mom was able to join us for the meal. Mom usually enjoys our lively gatherings, but wasn’t feeling very sociable this time. She was too tired to even concentrate on working a crossword puzzle and barely stayed awake long enough to eat. I took her back to her care home before dessert had even been served, but I saved her some pumpkin pie.

I brought the pie over today, right after lunch. Mom was, again, almost too tired to eat, which worries me. As I said to her, “It’s not like you to be uninterested in PIE!” She did finally finish her small slice, then almost immediately started dozing in her recliner. I sat with her for about an hour, watching figure skating on TV and chatting a bit when she woke up long enough to remember that I was there.

They’re tapering her off the supplemental oxygen during the day, per doctor’s orders, and her saturation has been staying around 94-95. But when I checked it today, she was only at 91. I sure hope this isn’t an indicator of fluid building up in her lungs again. Thankfully, we see the pulmonologist for a follow-up chest x-ray this coming Wednesday.

Despite the changes, I am deeply thankful that Mom is still here with me and that we were able to share Thanksgiving dinner.  I don’t know what Christmas will look like yet, but the only gift I need is to be able to share it with her.

Thanksgiving 2017

 

Infiltration

The x-ray results should “some infiltration in her lungs,” so the doctor prescribed another course of antibiotics, which she started at dinner on Thursday. Saturday I thought she was turning a corner — her oxygen got all the way up to 97 — but she is still dropping into the low 80s during the night, even though the oxygen gets turned up from 3 to 4 liters overnght. And her feet and ankles are still swollen and she’s still coughing. So this morning I called Dr. G again, and he pushed through a rush referral to a pulmonologist.

Their next available appointment was on Wednesday, but when I explained the situation they said I could bring Mom in as a walk-in this afternoon. We spent two hours at their office, which is about four hours less than the minimum we would have spent at an ER, so no complaints here. The pulmonologist said she coud hear a little bit of wheezing in Mom’s lungs so there’s definitely some fluid, but she said it’s not necessarily caused by an infection. She increased the Lasix dosage and ordered more frequent breathing treatments. And that’s that. Call back if it doesn’t improve.

Mom has been feeling pretty good, in spite of the oxygen difficulties, but today she was tired and grouchy and her caregiver said she had barely touched her lunch. So I’m still feeling a little anxious and wanting to watch her closely… and I guess I’m feeling a little tired and grouchy myself.

Stalled

Mom’s recovery progress seems to have stalled. Friday when the physical therapist was working with her, in the half hour or so he had her off oxygen, her sats dropped from 93 to 83. I called Dr. G’s office about that and he ordered a chest x-ray. Until we get the results we’re to keep her on oxygen 24/7.

Yesterday I was able to take her to church for the first time in 6 weeks. She was happy to be there and particularly enjoyed the attention from her friends in the seniors Sunday school class, but she had some trouble transferring from the wheelchair to the pew and (especially) back again. When I got her home after the service, she was ready for a nap!  I noticed when I picked her up for church that her left hand  and wrist were very swollen and puffy. It had improved a little by the time we were driving home, so I decided it wasn’t worth spending our Sunday afternoon at Urgent Care when I’d be seeing her again today.

She seemed tired today, much less perky than she was for church yesterday. When we pulled in to the parking lot for the Imaging Center, I checked her O2 level and it was only 89 — even though she’d been continually on oxygen. Feeling thankful that we were getting the x-ray done, I finagled the wheelchair and the portable oxygen tank inside and even managed to fit both of us and the equipment in the small dressing room, so I could help her get undressed and into a gown. When the x-ray techs told me she was going to have to stand while they took the images, I explained that her legs are weak and her balance is very poor — so they gave me a heavy lead smock and let me stand beside her, my hand on the small of her back to keep her steady. Mom clung to the sides of the board as if to a life raft in deep water, but she managed to stay standing with her back straight and followed their breathing instructions while they took the images. Her PT would have been proud.

The swelling in her left hand and forearm was about the same as when I left her yesterday, and I noticed her feet are now swollen also. While we were waiting our turn, I called the cardiologist’s office about that. Her doctor is off today, so the receptionist gave the message to a nurse who consulted with one of the other cardiologists and called me back. They said it “doesn’t sound like a heart issue” and recommended she increase her Lasix dosage for the next 48 hours and call back if the situation hasn’t improved by then.

While I’m relieved they don’t seem concerned about it, I’d sure like to know what’s going on. Between this and the difficulty keeping her satured with oxygen, it’s obvious that something isn’t right. For now, we wait.

If it’s not one thing…

Friday was one of those days. Mom had her first session with the physical therapist, and it did not go well. He had her lying on her back on the bed doing leg stretches and she was having trouble breathing, and he got snippy with me because I “undermined his authority” by responding to her needs without clearing it with him first. Even with the oxygen cannula in, her sats didn’t get above 91 and she was laboring so hard to breathe that he cut the session short and let her go back to sitting in her recliner.

I was so relieved that she already had an appointment with the cardiologist that afternoon because I felt sure it was a CHF (congestive heart failure) episode. But the cardiology PA who treats her didn’t hear any congestion in her lungs or heart. They had the results of Monday’s labs sent over and noted that she’s almost dangerously anemic, which might explain the difficulty getting enough oxygen even when the fluid build-up is gone. Since we are seeing the kidney specialist next Monday, and this is something he’s been tracking, cardiology PA left it for him to determine the best course of treatment. I took Mom home and she almost immediately fell asleep in her recliner.

Worn out from a stressful day, at 9:00 p.m. I got into my pajamas, poured a glass of wine and settled in for a West Wing marathon on Netflix. At 9:30, I got a call from the owner of the board and care: Mom had a nosebleed that thet couldn’t stop and they were taking her to the ER. I met them there shortly before 10:00, and it was a LONG night. They got her into triage very fast, considering the unusually large number of people in the waiting room, and had a quick temporary fix to stop the bleeding.

Mom nosebleed ER picBut then, as you can see in the photo, they sent us back out to the waiting room. Where we waited… and waited… and waited. It was cold in that room and Mom was thankful for the cozy flannel pajamas, though she was a little embarrassed about being out in public without her dentures in.  And though she complained that the clamp on her nose was uncomfortable, I would have been thankful to have one myself when a young woman sitting across from us suddenly vomited.

It was three hours from the time we were checked in until Mom saw a doctor. He removed a massive blood clot from her nose and thought that would solve the problem, but the bleeding started up again. The culprit, a broken blood vessel, was too high up in her nose for the doctor to see or cauterize, so they had to insert a balloon catheter in her nose to stop the bleeding — a last resort because it’s “uncomfortable” (the doctor’s word). Mom cried out in pain when it was inserted and kept exclaiming that she couldn’t stand it because it hurt so much.  It was 3:00 a.m. by the time this happened, and 3:30 by the time we were leaving the ER. The owner of the care home and her husband had waited with us the whole time, and they drove Mom home once she was discharged. I got in my car and immediately began to sob from exhaustion and helplessness at not being able to ease her pain.

I got about five hours of sleep before I got another call from the care home telling me that Mom had pulled the balloon halfway out during the night. I drank a big mug of strong coffee, threw some clothes on, and headed over there. The balloon catheter was supposed to be left in place until Monday, when we had been directed to see an ENT doctor to remove it. I called the ENT office and left a message for the on-call doctor, who called me back quite promptly and said that we could leave it as is unless it started bleeding again. Thankfully, that did not happen. And the balloon didn’t hurt when it was only half inserted, so Mom was much more comfortable for the duration of the weekend than she would have been otherwise.

All’s well that ends well, I guess.

It happens…

We saw the neurologist today. When Mom was in the SNF and would complain about feeling “quivery inside,” when her hands shook as she tried to hold a glass of water, when she couldn’t keep from bouncing her feet constantly… I kept thinking, “It’s OK, Dr. O will help her with this.”

Dr. O spent all of five minutes with us, and when I described Mom’s complaint about feeling quivery inside, she merely nodded and said “It happens.” The medication Mom was taking at bedtime before for restless legs made her too sleepy (so it was difficult to get her out of bed before 10:00 or 11:00 a.m.), and we agreed not to put her back on that unless the restless legs become intolerable. We are going to try increasing her dosage of Sinemet to see if that helps the tremors — but Dr. O said the caregivers will have to watch her closely because if the increased dose is too high for her body, the tremors will get worse instead of better. So grateful she lives in this small board and care home with attentive staff who WILL notice any changes. Otherwise I’d be back to camping out with her almost 24/7.

I was a little disappointed by the lack of attention we got from Dr. O, but I guess it’s a good sign that she wasn’t too worried about any of what we reported. And Mom was happy to get home. Short trips in the car still wear her out, and she dozed off in her recliner almost as soon as we got her in it. I kissed her forehead and headed out…

… And five minutes later I was ringing the door bell again, after having phoned AAA because my car wouldn’t start. Turned out to be a dead battery, and one hour and $126 later I was back on the road. So thankful it didn’t happen until AFTER I got Mom home! It’s warm and muggy today, and I can’t imagine making Mom sit in the car (or in her wheelchair in a parking lot) for an hour. Much better that I got to spend most of that hour sitting by her side in air conditioned comfort.

(Sh)it happens… But it could always be worse. And we get through it, together.

Grateful

Filled with gratitude tonight. I am grateful for my aunt and uncle, who drove all the way from Ohio so my aunt could see her sister… and grateful that the timing of their visit meant I could go do an 8-hour workshop on Sunday and not be distracted by worrying about Mom. Aunt Alice took this picture of us.

Mom Sep 3 2017

I am grateful for my niece, Sarah, who has visited her grandma several times (both at the hospital and the SNF), so that I can have a break. I am thankful for the friends from church who visited her in the hospital while I was away in Oregon, and for all the family who have called or sent cards or flowers. I appreciate my friend Joy who visited today and brought a new kind of nutrition shakes for Mom to try, since it’s still a struggle to get enough calories in her. Also Joy’s visit meant I could take a couple hours off and go to my restorative yoga class, which I really needed!

I am so, so grateful that Mom is finally feeling like herself again — that she’s not only physically stronger today, but has less anxiety and improved cognition. Today was a good day. She was up in the wheelchair for much of the day; she got a shampoo, cut and style by the beautician who comes to the facility every Wednesday; and when I came back around 2:00 pm she was able to tell me everything they’d served her for lunch, and also talked about Sarah’s visit the night before. So much of the time Mom doesn’t remember that someone visited ONE HOUR before, so that she was able to recall Sarah reading to her last night from her book of daily meditations on scripture feels like a small miracle to me.

It also feels like a miracle that even though some staff member screwed up and forgot to put her back on oxygen when returning her to her room (she was without oxygen from at least 4:15 pm until a little after 7:00, when I arrived to question it), she didn’t have trouble breathing and remained cheerful and talkative… and when I asked them to check her oxygen level, it was still at 94.  I’m so glad for this sign of her returning health that I’m not even angry about what could have been a dangerous error. (Well, anger might come later. A complaint will definitely be made.)

Right now, I’m just grateful.