For the past few days...
...my mother has been shedding water nonstop, in every way there is to shed water, but, primarily, through extreme incontinence. It started three nights ago. I was a little slow to pick up on it. It's been a good couple of weeks since I've had to change her bed in the morning because she's soaked through her paper underwear so, the first night she did this, I didn't think much of it and chalked it up to the busy day we'd had. She was unusually tired the day following the first shed night which is typical when she's dehydrated but, because she hasn't been dehydrating lately I was slow to pick up on that, too, and let her sleep, not thinking that I needed to watch her water intake more than just to make sure she consumed enough that morning to make up for the previous night's loss.
    After sleeping a good 10 hours the night previous she was up for about three then went to bed for another five hours. When she awoke her skin hung on her. That's when I went into emergency mode. By yesterday morning I realized it wasn't going to matter how much water I pushed on her, her body seemed determined to shed every last drop and all of it was ending up in her bed. I apologized to her for my slow response and told her that I'd watch her for another day but she was going to have to cooperate with me and drink lots of water and liquids or I was going to start getting "nasty, too"; she was beginning to get nasty in her irritation at my constant fluid push. If I couldn't get fluids to stay with her we'd probably have to consider visiting the doctor on Friday, which is something neither she nor I wanted.
    It's been a harrowing couple of days. I plied her with all kinds of liquids, salty foods and foods loaded with potassium just to keep her body chemistry relatively stable. Still, she continued to lose water like a sieve and her appetite as well. I didn't want to take her to the doctor because I figured he wouldn't believe that she was losing water and not blood and he'd seize this as an opportunity to tell me, once again, she needed yet another unnecessary and elaborate test to look for internal bleeding and ignore all other possibilities. Besides, although she was looking somewhat more wan than she has lately, it was a different "shade of pale"; rather like a waxy build-up over pink muscles, which, I figured, was an indication that, while she is still probably a bit anemic, she's well on her way to recovery and, at least, she wasn't losing blood so much as simply not keeping enough water on her frame to make enough blood. And, of course, we had a blood draw coming up today for The Big Gun tests, which require twice the blood usually drawn. So I decided to wait it out at least until Blood Draw Friday then, if she was continuing to lose fluid, I'd give up and take her to the doctor.
    Don't ask me why but, although she once again shed an enormous amount of water last night, sometime today her body turned around in its tracks and this evening, when I examined her feet as I usually do when rubbing them, I noticed that they no longer looked like translucent vinyl stretched over a skeleton. They were pleasingly plump, deep pink and the rest of her body was beginning to fill out.
    I have no idea why her body decided to purge like this for a couple of days. I have no idea why it stopped purging. I tried a variety of measures while it was pumping water out, including increasing her Detrol by adding one at night for two nights. Nothing worked. I even considered giving her Prednizone, since she reacts to that by retaining water, but I figured I'd take her to the doctor before I did that since Prednizone inauspiciously affects a lot of those enzyme producing organs in the torso.
    About all I can say now is that the body is an amazing machine. I will probably do some research in an effort to explain this phenomenon just in case it happens again. But her body corrected itself (perhaps the entire episode was a correction of sorts) and I know it started before I noticed it this evening. After her hair appointment today and before her blood draw I mentioned that I needed to go to Costco to pick up the right size of paper underwear for her (I inadvertently got the smaller size last time which were a little tight but, frankly, it hasn't mattered the last few days because while she was shedding water they fit perfectly). I was about to tell her I'd take her home then pick her back up for the blood draw but she wanted to go to Costco. She didn't have much energy, stopped with the basket about halfway to the pharmacy area on the opposite side of the store and suggested that I get the pads while she rested, which I did. But she maneuvered through checkout and back to the car without a hitch, just more slowly than usual, perked up at the lab, suggested we get hamburgers on the way home, which we did, asked for a double, which is unusual for her, ate almost everything she ordered and stayed up for a couple of hours before taking a late afternoon nap.
    One more note I want to record, for my own memory: I noticed this morning that she didn't take her medication yesterday morning. I found it neatly folded in her napkin underneath yesterday's newspaper which she usually scans during breakfast. I don't think this has anything to do with her body's 2.5 day (give or take a half day) water shed but I was a little surprised. However, her blood sugar was 109 this morning. It was a little high this evening; 143, but I'm not worried about that; that's probably the fries she had with her hamburger. I'll need to be more observant now in the morning, watch her take her pills. I know she hates to take them; it's a matter of life-style aesthetics. I don't think she was purposely being sneaky. I think she was very tired yesterday morning, looked at the pills, was easily discouraged by their presence and what they represent to her and was too tired to complain to me about them, which she does with arch commentary at every single breakfast, so simply pushed them aside underneath the paper.
    I scolded her a little this morning for her pill folly but I wasn't hard on her. I told her the truth, that her tactic would probably show up one way or another in the blood draw and we'd probably both catch hell from one or both of the doctors we're seeing next week. I also told her that I sympathize with her distaste for her medication but I had already cut it back quite a bit and I hoped she would trust me to continue to make sure that she was no longer being over medicated. She said she would.
    Now I know that when she is having a few unusually low physical days I need to keep a cautious eye on whether or not she takes her medication. Good lesson to learn. I'm extremely grateful that I'm learning these lessons under gentle circumstances. I know in many cases with many caretakers gentle learning isn't always possible. There are so many ways in which luck rides with my mother and me on this adventure of ours. Once again:

    thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou
- posted by gail rae @ 23:57  0 comments   email...this post

 
Memorable Quotes
Play Ground Zero:
    One of my sisters' and my favorite quotes involves the subject of play, which, as everyone knows, can be "good", "bad" or ambiguous. Whenever, on the spur of the moment, I try to repeat it exactly, I always fumble it. Last night, while trying to get someone I know to stop a type of destructive play (my effort didn't work), in my focused search for words to describe exactly how destructive this play was my frustration got the best of me and the memorable quote mentally materialized. It didn't fit the situation, was too oblique, so I didn't use it, just reveled in it, but today while idly thinking of other things, I remembered it and decided to record it, here, for future reference.
    In the late spring of 1968 (I remember the time because it was just prior to my olderest sister's wedding) my mother and at least one of my younger sisters was taking a ceramic class at the NCS Rec Center on Guam. Toward the end of one session, due to circumstances I now forget, my absent sisters and I converged on the class; probably to pick everyone up. Greenware, waiting to be shaved before firing, was scattered over the table. Being in high spirits, my sisters and I began fooling around with the greenware, egging each other on to increase the hilarity.
    Finally, my mother, who is as even tempered as they come, exploded, "That's enough! No ashtrays on shoulders, no turkey stoppers in ears, no wedding cakes on heads, NO PLAY-YING!
    The PLAY-YING didn't completely stop but, from that point on, no greenware was endangered. I can't count how many times, in the years since, one or the other of her daughters has found an appropriate moment to recall this quote.

Paddywhacked:
    A good year or so ago during one of my mother's less energetic days, after she'd been blearily up for the morning she decided to take a nap. I was in the living room involved in something, my attention being only peripherally on her. "Okay," I said, vaguely in her direction, "be sure and change your pad," meaning the underwear pad she wore to save her from soiling herself through incontinence.
    When she emerged from the bathroom I asked, again in auto-tone, "Did you change your pad?"
    "Yes," she said, drawing the vowel through an irritated sigh.
    I don't know what caused me to look up and check but I did, and, there she stood, clearly without a pad. "No, you didn't, Mom, go back and put on a pad."
    The sigh turned into a huff. "I did!" she insisted.
    "No you didn't, Mom, look!" I argued.
    "Yes, I did," she said, icing each word. "You just can't see it!"
    Something snapped to inside me and I couldn't resist. "Damn, woman," I said, "Invisible Pads! What a great invention! We need to take out a patent on those!"
    Since then, it has been almost too handy, in similar circumstances, for one or the other of us daughters to exclaim, "You just can't see it! It's like those invisible pads!"

    It's not that I have no appreciation for the dignified pronouncements of my own beloved Ancient One. I've recorded several. My preference, though, is clearly for my mother's Moments of Cockeyed Corrections and To The Point Orders.
    In case you're wondering, whenever one of these incidents is recalled in my mother's presence (which is most of the time), she grins delightedly through a feigned veil of annoyance.
- posted by gail rae @ 13:24  0 comments   email...this post

 
I'm waiting out three loads of laundry, tonight...
...and wandering a bit, mentally.
    Some months ago MCF's father died. I'm closely involved with her family, was with him, and walked shoulder to shoulder with her through the survivors' business of death.
    She is one of those people who could probably entice a silk plant to grow (whereas I have always had a black thumb, am famous for it) so she tends to gift people with lovingly chosen plants when she wants to celebrate her gratitude toward someone. At her father's funeral party (he had wanted a party, so that's what we did) she presented me with a flowering plant of some sort, the color of the flowers chosen specifically for me.
    I was incredibly touched, especially since she knows my history with plants, as I killed one she gave me a little over a year ago. She assured me though, that this one was "easy" and that I wouldn't be able to kill it. I laughed nervously and told her I hoped not.
    I have three methods for killing plants. The first is neglect; the second is solicitousness, including consulting books and articles about how to keep the things alive; the third is talking it to death. Since I intended to pay attention to this one (and made good on my intention) I assumed that I'd do this plant in through extreme attention. Here we are, 6 months later, the plant and me, both alive and thriving. It hasn't flowered again as she assured me it would but it is green and healthy and both my mother and I marvel at it daily. Until a few days ago I have assumed that I either got lucky with this one; it is, indeed, indestructible so is probably a silk plant; or that MCF's father is keeping an eye on it from Providence.
    Two days ago I did something I do incessantly which is probably one of the reasons aspens quake: I was seduced by a curious piece of greenery from a shrub of some kind in one of my mother's bouquets and decided to try to root it. This particular way of proving my black thumb is one of my more frequent follies. I can't bring myself to buy a plant in order to kill it but, I guess, I've always figured if something is already on its way out "it can't hurt" if I inadvertently help it along. Nothing, I repeat, nothing has ever rooted for me. My mother even sympathized with the cutting and suggested that I leave it in the bouquet and let it "die a natural death, that would be kinder."
    Although I wasn't expecting much I sought counsel from MCS who also has a miraculously green thumb. Frankly, even with meticulously noted advice, I expected that within a week I'd be throwing away a sodden, moldy, lifeless (except for parasites) cutting.
    Yesterday, 24 hours after having placed the cutting in a vinegar carafe in the kitchen window in the path of the morning sun, I thought I noticed a tiny white hair emerging from one of the nubs on the stem. I peered into the carafe through a magnifying glass to see if I was right. I couldn't believe this plant would root for me (pun not intended but appropriate) so chalked the neophyte root up to my imagination.
    This afternoon while filling the dishwasher I glanced at the plant. The imaginary root isn't imaginary! I dashed to the nearest nursery, bought some liquid plant food and painstakingly dripped miniscule amounts of Miracle Gro from a turkey pin into the water.
    Later this evening, while spraying down soaked bedsheets, I couldn't help musing about this amazing development: That I seem to be able, now, to nurture plants. I can't escape the idea that this development is somehow related to some fairly recent changes in the way I am taking care of my mother. Since about the time that MCF's father died I have been, literally, willing energy and vitality into my mother. Although I didn't begin this enterprise consciously I have an internal 'memory' of making a subterranean choice to do this because nothing else seemed to be working. Until The Cleansing previous to the colonoscopy I wasn't sure my will was working and, even after the remarkable effects of The Cleansing, which continue, I couldn't imagine that my will had anything to do with her revitalization.
    I'm beginning to wonder, though, if I've been granted a new gift or have discovered a latent one. I look at that two day old root and I can't help but see my mother today insisting on pushing the grocery cart through all the aisles in Costco even though we only needed a few bulk items; hunting down the sample kiosks and the first flushes of Costco's Christmas goods; chatting with Reuben, an 82 year old sample kiosk attendant, whom she'd called by name when she thanked him for a sample, thus initiating an animated conversation about their military experiences in WWII and how these lead not only to their eventual careers, but to their marriages; standing at the checkout busily pushing our items toward the cashier so the patrons behind us could load their purchases. All of these occurrences were as unexpected as a bush cutting rooting under my care in 48 hours time.
    I am contemplating my hands, tonight, both my outer and inner hands, and wondering if some powerful new way of transferring, or, perhaps, stirring, life enhancing energy is coming into its own within me. I can't even say "I hope so." These developments appear to be so strangely and startlingly obvious that hope seems beside the point.
    Over and over, now, tonight (and, I suspect, for some time to come) I've been internally, wordlessly chanting an acknowledgment that can only be lingualized thus: "Please, use me, take my energy and excite yours with it..."
    "And, the best part is," something I'm just discovering: The more energy flows out of me, the better I feel.
    I believe Greening by Gail has begun and apparently plants are going to be only the most obvious of the beneficiaries. I could not have asked for, or imagined, a better, more unexpected gift.

    thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou
- posted by gail rae @ 01:56  0 comments   email...this post

 
It is finished.
    The Mother Poems page, that is, and I have some time to journalize a bit.
    My favorite Mom's Birthday event this year took place hours before her family celebration at MPS's house. MPS called me and left a message asking "what to do about a birthday dessert for Mom." I heartily appreciated and was touched by her concern. The answer was that for my mother "birthday" and "sugar" are spelled the same, sound the same and are, essentially, the same word. Before I was able to get back to MPS, she had already come to her senses. "You have to have birthday cake at a birthday celebration," she said.
    Absolutely. Very recently I decided not to worry too much about my mother's fluctuating sugar level. Firstly, she has only had diabetes since her 82nd year. Secondly, her blood glucose is mostly normal or only slightly out of whack (depending, often, on whether she eats late in the evening before bed or arises in the middle of the night to scrounge the refrigerator). Thirdly, the physician whose word on her diabetes I trust the most is not worried about any long term debilitating side effects. He is the one who first diagnosed her and gave her a choice about whether to treat it or not. Fourthly, her current physician began to harass me about her fluctuating blood glucose levels only when he was harassed by a consulting physician who is not intimately familiar with her history. Finally, over the last several years we have significantly reduced the amount of sugar she consumes and is stored in the house. Her history shows that an occasional sugary celebration is not going to hurt her.
    I was curious though, late in the evening after her family party, how her blood sugar was going to register so I took it at about 2300. Yeow! It was 323! This number stuck in my head for well over a day until, yesterday afternoon when relating this to MCF, I suddenly realized that I had forgotten to administer her diabetic medication at my sister's house the night of the party! Despite the fact that I had not only packed her medication but her Glucometer, too, in the contingency bag I often carry with us when we'll be away and eating for hours at a time, I had a very clear flashback of never accessing the bag during the family party evening! I even had trouble locating it when we were preparing to leave.
    She slipped right back to normal the evening after her family party and has stayed this way (at least during the times I measure her blood glucose) since. I rarely, now, measure her midday levels, as mild spiking seems to be the order of this period of time. I sometimes still wonder what her blood sugar is doing when I'm not chasing after it with a test strip but I've learned more than once that worrying about it is ridiculous and accomplishes nothing.
    The last birthday event unfolded this morning. On August 1st and 2nd my mother received two lovely bouquets from MCS and MFS. My mother loves fresh cut flowers and they've heightened our appreciation of each day since they arrived. Yesterday when I returned from my visit with my friend I noticed a third bouquet on the dining room table. "Who are those from?" I asked, secure in the knowledge that they were for her.
    "From MPS," she said, which seemed odd since, when she gets my mother flowers, she usually presents them at her home at the time of the celebration, but I didn't think anything else of it.
    This morning as I was passing the table on my way to make coffee, the card, still waving above the flowers, caught my eye. My name was on it! It was from MTNDN as a thank you for me keeping an eye on her house and collecting her mail and newspapers while she was gone for two weeks!
    I'll definitely mention this to my mother. She'll get a kick out of the fact that, being this month's Birthday Girl, she assumed that all bouquets belonged to her! This aspect of my mother's character is one of my favorite aspects. I have only once known her to shy from a celebration in her honor and then it was only for a moment and because she was overcome that she was being celebrated.
    My mother is a woman of a modestly displayed but firmly intact sense of self-possession, so you wouldn't guess this about her unless you'd seen her during those times when she is the object of celebration. Nonetheless, I consider it my great good fortune to have been raised by a woman who revels in being celebrated because, I believe, she knows she deserves it.
- posted by gail rae @ 09:42  0 comments   email...this post

 
All but three of the poems...
...have been uploaded. I've been fooling around with fonts but am not sure that's a good idea. At any rate, I'm tired and am heading for bed. I'll finish tomorrow, possibly switching them all to one readable font that won't suffer under the interpretations of a variety of possible browsers.
    There is still birthday reporting to come, as well. Hopefully, I'll get to that tomorrow, too.
    Good. Night. Mmmmmm.
- posted by gail rae @ 00:06  0 comments   email...this post

 
I spent some time visiting a friend this afternoon.
    It was the kind of visit I wanted to do on my own and it had been difficult to rouse my mother for her hair appointment this morning. She didn't nod off in the chair but she was tired, she'd had two busy days and wanted to go home and take a nap so I took advantage of her desire so I could have some much needed alone visiting. I promised her I'd come home with Chinese food around 1730. I was "right on the button," as she noted when she roused from her nap on the couch as I returned. I figured she'd be sleeping all afternoon so I was surprised she remembered anything about my being away.
    She saw my bags and asked if I'd brought dinner...another surprise. She moved getting-up slow but, once up, she advanced on her TV table to clear it for dinner.
    "Chinese Food," I said, holding up one of three bags. I couldn't resist adding a "Remember?"
    She answered honestly, "No, but I'm glad you did!"
    After dinner, during which she teased me about my chopstick technique [Which is deplorable, considering that where I was raised, on Guam, there we a few restaurants we frequented that provided only chopsticks and we regularly used chopsticks at home when eating Asian. I think this disability is companion to another; I cannot knit, although I can crochet so well I've made up a few of my own stitches.].
    I mentioned over my shoulder as I was clearing dishes and setting up the dishwasher, "We need to go to Costco tomorrow."
    "What do we need?" she asked, as automatically as if I'd assumed "we" meant we were going together.
    "Not a lot, but hand washing dish detergent, definitely orange juice, we've barely got enough for tomorrow..."
    "We'd better go tomorrow, then."
    I could have leapt 5 feet and cheered but I acted nonchalant. I didn't want to compromise the moment by questioning the normalcy she was taking for granted. I felt as though we were two years in the past and having a typical auto-discussion about household matters to which we needed to attend. "Okay, well, I'll get you up around 0900, we'll fool around a little bit, eat breakfast, get dressed, go to Costco, and maybe after we shop we'll get one of those polish sausages with sauerkraut."
    "Sounds good."
    I waited for a moment then ventured once more, "I was thinking maybe we could take a delivery trip up to Prescott next Wednesday, make a day of it, enjoy ourselves, maybe take a bag lunch to the Square after we unload..."
    "That would be a nice change of scenery. Maybe we could go to a restaurant..."
    anythingyousayMom,anything

    thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou
- posted by gail rae @ 19:19  0 comments   email...this post

 
It came to me in a flash...
...while I was getting my hair cut less than an hour ago. No more doctors! That's what we need. This is the best reason for us to go to Prescott for what's left of the season. We need to stop taking Mom to see doctors for awhile unless we have an emergency.
    Of course I'll make sure she's registered at the Veteran's Hospital and clinic there. We'll have her eyes checked, take her in for a dental check and cleaning and they'll be there in case of emergency but we don't need to have doctors examining her for awhile, now. We could use some doctor-free time, both of us. We don't need doctors checking on us, we don't need doctors mulling over what I'm doing and telling me I'm doing it wrong, we don't need doctors telling me she needs some procedure that they later tell me she didn't need after it's done, we don't need doctors refusing to think out loud with me, we don't need doctors for awhile. A few doctor free months will do us a world of good, I think.
    I just announced this to Mom as I walked in the door. She agrees. After next week they can bother some of their other patients. We'll spend the next few months getting clear on the doctor experience without their help.
    Although Shakespeare wrote, "Kill all the lawyers," doctors should have been included, and I'll bet he knew that...it just didn't fit into "Henry VI".
    Whew! Now, maybe we can enjoy life, again!
- posted by gail rae @ 13:57  0 comments   email...this post

 
Today, throughout...
...I will be finishing the page of poems that were written either for my mother or inspired by her and my relationship with her or written in answer to events in which we were both involved. The first and, I think, the most important, as it was written as a gift to her, is up and published. All other poems will be added to the same page.
- posted by gail rae @ 11:09  0 comments   email...this post

 
Having experienced surprising levels of fatigue...
...since last Wednesday, I've also been stepping back and observing myself as I negotiate life with my mother and wondering exactly why this might be happening. I've discarded health concerns. I've thought about the constant harping on websites and in books and articles devoted to caregiving that I "need a vacation" and, although I certainly wouldn't mind one, after some deep thought, I don't think I "need" one, at this point, as, for instance, a soldier comes to a point where R&R is needed.
    Instead, an idea has been niggling at me that I think carries more truth about my current life and my fatigue than anything anyone has suggested or I've previously considered. I think I have lately backed off from my previous level of complete involvement in taking care of my mother that allowed me the ability to flow freely with it and, thus, rest as I do it when rest is needed.
    This conclusion has startled me, as it isn't one that I've noticed mentioned in any material I've read about caretaking or by anyone with whom I've discussed caretaking. It is, though, an explanation that fits me and my mode of living quite well.
    Does this diagnosis sound oblique to those of you reading this? Let me see if I can explain what I mean.
    I am not one to ever worry about "losing myself" in my relationships with people, in jobs, in any circumstances of life. I feel exactly the opposite about my life, that the more involved I become in any activity or any relationship the more likely I am to be "with" myself. I think, over the last few days (perhaps longer), I have been fighting this deep level of involvement in my caregiving life with my mother. I came to this conclusion today and simply: I noticed that my body feels as though I've been physically defending myself; tight and achey. I've also noticed that quite a few of my free floating thoughts have been devoted to a subject of which I haven't previously thought: What I'll do after my mother dies. The thoughts haven't gone far...it remains, and I expect it to continue to remain, impossible for me to imagine my life after my mother's death. I have preferred it this way. I have even been grateful, especially in the circumstances in which I have found myself since 1994, that my character is such that I do not plan things long range: I am not future-goal oriented. Although I don't consider not being future goal-oriented a "lifestyle" (thank you, Dr. Phil) that is in vogue at this time in this country (it is, in fact, far from being admired), for me, lacking goal orientation isn't a lifestyle but a (thanks once again, Dr. Phil) a "life strategy" that not only "works" for me, but makes sense to me. This is not to say that I don't make plans and carry them out. Nor is it to say that I do not place expectations on my relationships and work to see those expectations become a reality. It's hard, really, to describe the way I "work" at my life. All I can report is that anytime I've ever wanted to do something, such as move to a particular place, learn a particular subject or skill, get to know a particular person, advance a relationship to a particular point, work in the world at a particular task, I've always accomplished these desires. My process is, generally, that I decide what it is I want to do, where it is I want to go or who it is I wish to know and how I wish to know them then, well, let it ride. Without knowing quite how the process works, without consciously directing it, at some point, sometimes with my unwitting help, sometimes serendipitously, a curtain draws back and I walk into the arena in which I imagined I want to be. Although it hasn't been until the last 5 years or so that I've realized that operating through one's life in this way takes a high level of self-possession, confidence and clear presence in one's life, it has not been necessary for me to know this.
    Very recently though, there have been elements of, well, push and shove to the way I've been operating in my life as I am my mother's caretaker. I realized this last night as I lay my aching body down for sleep, not really understanding why I was aching and needing to know. In order to get a variety of business and personal things done on behalf of my mother's material circumstances I've been operating, just recently, differently than usual. I've been deliberately and consciously breaking 'destinations' into smaller tasks and ticking off the tasks as each is accomplished, thus obviously moving toward the destination. This strategy has applied exclusively to business destinations and I decided to do this because I've been involved in some very trying business dealings within the last three years that, although I bested them, were extremely draining and quite disillusioning. Finally, I wanted to avoid both the drain and the disillusion. It seems, though, that by switching out of my typical strategy within the last few days, although I have "accomplished" much in a short period of time, I have also drained myself more than I had before in any previous business dealings and entered into a level of irony and objective leering that is not at all comfortable for me and leaves me feeling quite removed from everything.
    So I decided this evening that I need to relax back into my habit of deep, personal involvement in my mother's life quickly before the managing I've tried to do over the last few days becomes a habit. I need to reinstitute my previous "loss" of myself to my situation. As I write this I can feel myself unraveling.
    I know this isn't the kind of advice that most caretakers would find helpful. I know this isn't the kind of advice that most people, at least here in the United States, would consider wise, least of all people who counsel caretakers on how to better perform their responsibilities without "going crazy". But it works for me and, I've found over the last few days that the current wisdom does not.
    Mmmmm, I feel renewal stirring inside me, right now. I'm beginning to relax. The curtains are drawing open, again, this time, inviting me to a restful sleep. I'm ready for bed, blissfully ready. I'll be back, later.
- posted by gail rae @ 01:23  0 comments   email...this post

 
Birthday posts are coming...
...but it's been a very busy and, ultimately, very tiring couple of days. I've been surprised at the level of fatigue I am feeling. I'm sure it is not connected to my mother's birthday, so I've been mulling about what it might be.
    In the meantime I discontinued the lisinopril yesterday. After just less than two days without it I noticed incipient swelling in her legs and feet this evening; neither unusual for most people nor uncomfortable for her but alarming to me because it happened so fast. This morning she could well have been pronounced "dehydrated" and I made sure she consumed a full 16 ounces of water before we took off for MPNC's play. This evening though, with very little additional liquid of any type throughout the day, she was surprisingly hydrated. I think the lisinopril actually has a good effect on her despite it's tendency to lower her blood pressure and I think this good effect has something to do with protecting her from unusual and unmanageable (without the wasting effects of diuretics) water retention. It is certainly much gentler than giving her furosemide (which I haven't had to administer since before her colonoscopy; the last time I reported, here, giving her furosemide was the last time she took it) or any other deliberate diuretics.
    Now, my problem is how to keep her blood pressure up and continue the lisinopril, which I will resume in the morning. I know a lot about lowering blood pressure from simply being a relatively avid reader of current media, as current media is overwhelmed, at the moment, with health advice on such subjects as lowering blood pressure. I can't remember the last time I read anything about how to deliberately raise blood pressure. I'll need to research this. I suppose adding a bit more sodium to her diet will do the trick. As well, the higher altitude in Prescott should help. Although people who wish to lower their blood pressure are counseled to take more exercise, in my mother's case, because of her COPD and the fact that she moves little and slowly, more movement might prove to raise hers a bit, certainly at least for awhile until her body becomes accustomed to more activity. At any rate, movement will probably help to normalize it. Trying to get her to move, of course, is constant work but I'm used to it and she is moving more as it is, especially when she can use the wheel chair, despite her protests about using it.
    I was asked, earlier this week, by a woman at Mom's hair salon who uses a strangely technological looking walker (I mean, how technological does a walker need to be?!?) why I didn't get my mother one like hers. For a few reasons, actually. First of all, we have the wheelchair and on any particular trip Mom uses it occasionally to sit, so it's useful. As well, it doubles as a dandier shopping cart than the walkers I've seen when Mom wants (or I cajole her) to push it and this pleases her. I can't see any reason to add a piece of equipment to our household that would be redundant and not nearly as serviceable. Granted, my mother is the only person I've observed using her wheelchair as a walker and shopping cart but neither my mother nor I have a problem with being the "first" or the "only" doing anything. Our shared attitude toward other people not doing what we're doing for whatever reason is either, "That's their choice," or "Too bad for them." Curiously though, the woman showing off her gadget-walker couldn't seem to accept our decision. She argued with us that we really ought to have one, almost to the point of me wondering if perhaps she had a financial stake in us buying one. It was as though she felt that our choice somehow invalidated hers. Well, once again, a walker's her choice, and, too bad for her if she can't accept ours.
- posted by gail rae @ 23:49  0 comments   email...this post

 
Our neighbor to the north...
...who was taking care of her mother until her mother's recent death turned right around and took on caretaking for her aunt (not sure if it is her mother's or father's sister). Just contemplating her dedication to caretaking for Ancient Ones to whom she is related causes me to catch my mental breath. I spoke to her a few days ago when the weather was cooler and I happened to glimpse her down the street, as I had noticed that she had, earlier, been with whom I assumed was an Ancient Related Visitor.
    She is enthusiastic about taking care of her aunt. I forgot to ask my northern caretaking neighbor how old her aunt is but I do know, from observing them together and talking to her aunt, that this caretaking adventure will be much different than was her adventure with her mother. Her mother had a long time neurological disorder that worsened exponentially over the last five years. The disorder affected her speech and, although before two years ago dementia had not been a problem for her mother, within the last two years the daughter confided to me that she thought her mother's "mind was going"; communication was becoming increasingly difficult because the daughter was finding it less and less easy to understand what her mother was trying to convey times two. Over the last 2 years, too, her mother needed to be placed in a nursing home for periods of time when the level of care she needed was beyond the scope of in-home care. She also suffered a series of strokes in the months before she died and ambulances frequently appeared outside their home.
    Her aunt, though, reminds me of my mother. I talked to them together briefly but there were certain details that led me to think that, for my northern caretaking neighbor, this adventure would be much less rigorous. Her aunt was readily understandable, both approaching and approachable, and although she struck me as fey in the same sense as my mother I think, as with my mother, had I not been around someone slipping back and forth between what us younger people think of as reality and the reality of Ancient Ones I would certainly have thought, as most people who visit us only occasionally or talk to my mother on the telephone think of my mother, that she is completely capable and "old" only in body. Her aunt even seems to favor the same swept up, French Twist hair style as my mother and carries her head as though at one time she was considered a beauty, as my mother was. She appears to be much more active than my mother but, then, my mother, when in public, appears to be more active than she is.
    The daughter seems completely renewed and ready for this new responsibility. She even seems freed, as her bawdy personality was always subdued when I saw her with her mother but she is able to let loose with her aunt and be who she has been with me when I ran into her alone.
    Still, I can't help but shake my head in amazement at her decision to do this for a woman who is vital enough to be around for some years to come. I admire her ability to do this. I don't think I'll have it in me to do this again when my adventure with my mother comes to an end.
- posted by gail rae @ 00:28  0 comments   email...this post