Thursday, February 23, 2006
Mom just retired...
...her light's still on, she'll probably read for awhile, and she's fine. She's so fine that I managed to administer all her pills except her Oscal, garlic and vitamin E. She's so fine that when her hunger got the best of her at around 2200 she decided she wanted cake and ice cream. I gave it to her for two reasons:
So was I, for that matter. As she pointed out when we finally bathed her this afternoon and I sang my silly little bathing ditties as we progressed through the stages, "You haven't sung in a long time. I don't think I'll ask if you if you have to sing, today. [Because my songs are so stupid and spur of the moment, she always feigns mock irritation and makes a production of asking me if I have to "do that".] It's just good to hear you singing, again." It was good to feel like singing again.
Funny, I wasn't scared about this episode of diarrhea with her. "The literature" counsels caregivers to be concerned about stuff like this when it happens to people in my mother's "condition" but my instincts told me it wasn't any more than weird food and it wasn't going to affect her any worse than it did me, all things considered. She had more cleansing episodes than I did, but, then, her bowels are more sluggish than mine so they had more to expel.
I was right. I know this woman's body. This episode granted me the confidence I need to see her through to the end. I'll know when to be concerned. I'll be able to make all the decisions necessary as time passes, and I'll make good decisions.
Damn, I'm tired. It's been a long haul. I'm sleeping in tomorrow.
Later.
- I know it wasn't the cake and ice cream from a couple of nights ago that gave her the runs because I had the runs, too, and I didn't have cake and ice cream.
- She hasn't eaten much today and can use the refined carbohydrates in our continuing try to get her A1c back up.
So was I, for that matter. As she pointed out when we finally bathed her this afternoon and I sang my silly little bathing ditties as we progressed through the stages, "You haven't sung in a long time. I don't think I'll ask if you if you have to sing, today. [Because my songs are so stupid and spur of the moment, she always feigns mock irritation and makes a production of asking me if I have to "do that".] It's just good to hear you singing, again." It was good to feel like singing again.
Funny, I wasn't scared about this episode of diarrhea with her. "The literature" counsels caregivers to be concerned about stuff like this when it happens to people in my mother's "condition" but my instincts told me it wasn't any more than weird food and it wasn't going to affect her any worse than it did me, all things considered. She had more cleansing episodes than I did, but, then, her bowels are more sluggish than mine so they had more to expel.
I was right. I know this woman's body. This episode granted me the confidence I need to see her through to the end. I'll know when to be concerned. I'll be able to make all the decisions necessary as time passes, and I'll make good decisions.
Damn, I'm tired. It's been a long haul. I'm sleeping in tomorrow.
Later.
