Numb

Today is the day when we can request a Home Health Aide! However, Mom woke up earlier than usual this morning with her Depends® disposable underwear, pajamas, padding, and sheets all soaking wet. Dad and I have to go through the ordeal of trying to change her ourselves. Mom is lying askew on the bed with the Depends® disposable underwear and pajama bottoms half-on, half-off, but she won't cooperate enough for them to be pulled all the way up or for us to get her straightened on the bed. She also would not raise-up or roll over enough for me to get a pad underneath her, so the sheets and mattress pad will be soaked if she pees herself again while lying there. She flatly accused Dad and me, believe it or not, about not having any compassion for her since we tried to move her while she is in pain. She is not in her right mind — a show of non-compassion would be to let her lie there all day in pee-soaked clothes and linens until she gets a rash from it, and neither Dad nor I are that lazy or heartless. I hope the Home Health Nurse will assist us in getting Mom more completely dressed, pad undereneath her, and in a more normal position in the bed.

This morning, she ate five bites of oatmeal, four bites of pound cake, and drank aqbout 8 ounces of apple juice. At least that is more than she ate or drank all day yesterday.

The Home Health nurse (Carolyn) came by this afternoon and I gave her a written list of all the food and drink Mom has had since her discharge from the hospital. Carolyn was appalled at how little it was. She went into the bedroom and saw how Dad and I were only able to pull the Depends® disposable underwear halfway up Mom's butt. She started to pull them up the rest of the way (as only a nurse apparently knows how to do) when she realized that Mom's clothing was wet again, as were a second set of sheets. She asked didn't we think of putting a pad under Mom, and I told her that we usually do put one under her, but she would not cooperate today for the few seconds it would take to do it. The nurse shook her head in a commiseration of our efforts, and began the task of getting the wet undies and pajamas off Mom.

Even though my father was the only other person in the house and he was in the den, Carolyn closed the door to the bedroom to make Mom feel more at-ease. She did this without my mother's even having to ask and announced, "Okay, now it's just us girls." Mom seemed pleased, so I told Carolyn the story that happened recently when Mom's pajama top fell open and she was horrified. I told her, "Mom, I have them, too, and Dad can't see, so what's the big deal?" and she laughed. In no time at all, Carolyn had clean disposable undies on Mom. I reached for the pajama bottoms, but Carolyn said to just leave them off for now. Mom pulled the same "You're killing me! Stop!" line when Carolyn and I rolled Mom over, but Carolyn just calmly had everything done so quickly and professionally that Mom couldn't really argue when all was finished. I was so relieved to be working with someone who knew how to do this, and with someone with whom Mom would not argue as much as she does with Dad and me. Carolyn checked Mom's blood pressure, pulse rate, oxygen-intake level, and spent a little time trying to get Mom to eat a little something before she left. In a brief moment at the door, she agreed that Mom was being unreasonably manipulative.

I had showered right before Carolyn arrived and got all  dressed to go out this afternoon after Carolyn left. We need more Depends® disposable underwear and a couple of other things, plus I had to run some mail by the post office and take a bag of garbage to the dump. Came home and cooked supper. Dad and I had a Boca® meatless "chicken" pattie and some killer mac-and-cheese. After we ate, I took a lovely little piece of baked fish to Mom with some mac-and-cheese and her evening meds. She refused to open her mouth to take them, so Dad had to *gently* force them into her mouth. She took a sip of the iced tea I had brought her, but I honestly don't know if she ever swallowed the pills or not. She refused to eat even one bite of the fish or mac-and-cheese.

The frightening thing is that she looked at me with this wide-eyed stare like she didn't know who I was, or was either angry as hell at me; I couldn't decide which. So, I just tured and walked out of the room to clean up the fucking kitchen. Now I feel emotionally numb.



I have them, too — a little peek at "the girls" for the boys.
And for the lovely ladies who like that sort of thang...  







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