The Slide

Yesterday I was bragging that my mom was still mentally sharp, reading, researching, doing her own accounting.  

Yesterday was a difficult day.  It was especially difficult for my brother, who has not had a lot of direct care-taking opportunities in his life, particularly end of life care-taking.  See his post of yesterday, 22 Sep, at ilind.net.

Yesterday, our mother slept from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m., then thought she was waking up at the start of a new day.  Yesterday morning she could still sit up in bed unassisted.  Yesterday morning she was in pain, but reasonable stable on her feet behind that walker.  On Friday she could easily put the battery in her hearing aid.  On Friday she could reliably open and read her mail.  On Friday she  was taking meals at table.  On Friday she was directing how life should be in this household -- we need to be on a schedule, you (meaning me) need to go off and do things for yourself, I will eat this but not that ... 

Today is different.  Today she cannot sit up in bed without assistance.  Today  she is unsteady, even behind her walker.  Today she looks at but does not read the morning paper.  Today she eats what is put in front of her, takes her pills as directed.  Today I am not confident she is reliably reporting what she is feeling. 

Jackie, our mother's lead Hospice Nurse, called this morning, obviously having gotten a report from the on-call weekend nurse.  Jackie suggests that that "tingly feeling" on the side of the head may be something real and physical -- or not.   She says what we are seeing is also consistent with coming off certain medications.  She says monitor and report.  She suggests we have absorbent bed pads and diapers on hand -- just in case -- when the prunes and other laxitive products kick in.  She is ordering a bedside commode, which will be delivered tomorrow. This may pass, she says.  It may also be another step in the path toward that inevitable door. 

I love you. 
Thank you.
Forgive me.
I forgive you. 

Don't forget to pray....