Posted later 1/11/19
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair… -Charles Dickens
Tiring. Brain tiring. Heart tiring.
One side of the Inner Mark can completely and with peace see why
people often refuse to go to memory units to see loved ones. The other side of Inner Mark
consequently feels Judas-grade guilty for even thinking such a thing.
Tiring.
Act I: My awesome sis visited mom today earlier than normal because, it you remember from my post yesterday, mom was so zonked with nausea and lethargy that she was unresponsive. Her vitals were fine other than a fever, but my sis couldn’t get her up, even with a cold wash cloth cooling her cheeks. Calling her name loudly…nada. Light shake of the shoulder…nope. Simply, apparently she needed a deep nap…and got it from bedtime yesterday until 11 this morning.
To her surprise, when she got there the UberNurse said “Today we have a big turning point to what you are used to”. Likely expecting the very worst, my sis walks into a perky, lucid, rested mom, chilling out in bed. They had a wonderful visit, not unlike mine from 2 days ago (sandwiched inside was a terrible, sucky day yesterday). Lots of fun. She was able to get some work on her hair and her hygiene. Joking. Hugs. Smiles. Awesome day…one well deserved for a battle tested and tired sis.
Act II: Hearing the good news at work today and hopeful but not knowing what to expect, I get there and mom was reasonably cheerful at first. We participated in the exercise session with the Job patient nurse coaxing Alzheimer’s patients to move hands and feet when few remembered what they were. The humorous video hearing mom laugh about a resident barfing up a lung is a good Cliff’s Notes of the first segment of my visit. Exhale. Nice to have mom back.
Act III: An hour into my visit. mom’s countenance changed, her speech became tossed salad, her anxiety returned, she refused meds, she got frustrated and knocked over a neighbor’s coffee. No BP check. Minimal supper. No eye contact.
Act IV: I coax her back. Convinced her to take her meds. (PTL!!!!). She still was very sad/mad/anxious about me leaving, yet I had to go…so we snuck me out. 🙁 I hate that. 🙁 Hate it. It seems like a horrific thing to trick my mom, with her compromised brain, so I could leave, knowing she will be confused and sad that I am gone. Sickening, but sometimes there are no other options. Guilt at leaving. Guilt if I stay until she goes to sleep at midnight and not have any family time at home. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
