I was determined to get Mom moving, today. She was determined to stay in bed.
    She won.
    I was, as usual, a poor loser.
    When I am a poor loser regarding my mother's life it is because I run scared when I can't get her moving for a few or more days. I ran scared today.
    Everything was fine at first. I allowed her to awaken at her discretion. Fixed breakfast, laid out the day (all the errands that have been stacking up over the last few days, that I've been insisting on holding until I can get her going with me, which have now become urgent), she sounded interested. Then she balked at the bath. I have never seen her more determined than she was today except when she simply refuses to get out of bed. Her color was good, all her numbers were good but she simply, again, is out of the habit of moving much. It only takes her a few days to get out of the habit.
    At first I bribed. Then I teased. Then I cajoled. Then I spat hard reality at her. The less she moves the weaker she becomes, I pointed out, like today, she was already weaving down the hall rather than walking as she moved from dining room to bathroom. I asked her if she was ready to sleep her way into death, if she wanted to do that now. I repeated that, as I've promised, I would protect her. She denied this. I told her we were headed down exactly the same path that caused her ill health this last year. When she didn't respond to this and we were facing off like bull and toreador I finally broke.
    "Okay. To hell with you," I said. "I've got stuff to do to keep our households running until you die. Do what you want. I don't care. I'll be gone for several hours. You're on your own."
    I left. My errands included a personal stop at a friend's home who needed help on her computer but I'd put her off in lieu of the days I had planned on getting my mother out. I spent a few hours there then ran our errands and didn't get back until just before 1800.
    She was up. She called to me tentatively as I came in the door and told me she was worried about me being gone.
    I was brusque with her. I didn't want to repeat everything I'd said this morning about where I went and what I did so I told her that I was sorry she couldn't remember what happened this morning and why I was gone but I wasn't in the mood to repeat it. I took her blood sugar, asked her if she ate, although I could tell she hadn't, nor had she been drinking any fluids. I made dinner, administered her meds, badgered her to drink water all evening, which she did, as I verbally directed her to pick up her glass and take another swallow. Other than that, we left each other alone for most of the evening.
    When she decided to go to bed I apologized to her for my heavy handed treatment. I also told her I was scared that we were headed down exactly the same road that caused the entire last year, which she did not enjoy. She of course, said, "No, nothing's going to happen." But, stuff does happen regardless of what she thinks or says, and it happens to her, and I can only do so much about getting her out and moving.
    I'm getting so tired of battling her to get her moving. Even when a day turns out well and she thanks me for pushing her, even though she tells me, as she did tonight, that she needs me to push her, I'm getting tired of it and the reward of seeing her respond is wearing thin. It is almost too thin, now, to make up for the daily morning battles.
- posted by gail rae @ 23:26   email...this post