Roller Coaster Ride

I have been home (at my parents house) since December 16. As most people know going back into the house where you lived as a teenager brings up a whole marketbasket of feelings. Decades have past and nothing has really changed. I am sleeping in my brothers' bedroom. My old room has a bed that fits like a hammock and my back can't take that so I have chosen their bedroom. The bedspreads have changed, but wall color, drapes and carpeting are the same. Midwestern farmer types do not spend money freely. Our high school graduation pictures still sit on the dresser. Strangely shaped bottles from college binges also line up like souvenir soldiers.

There are old school papers in the closet, cheap toys that my kids used to play with when they visited and books of all types and sizes.

Mom and Dad and I have started to work out a routine. I think that Dad is relieved to be handing over most of the caretaker duties to me. He can actually leave the house for longer periods of time. His day usually consists of turning up the two heaters and maybe starting a fire in the wood stove at 6:00. He still chops his own wood at 90! Then I get up and make coffee and we sort of start our day together over the morning news and some chit chat. At 7:00 I get Mom up and get everyone breakfast. They have been relying primarily on cold cereal, but seem pleased to have me fix oatmeal, pancakes or eggs every once in a while. Depending on whether a nurse's aide is coming I will get Mom dressed in a clean new nightgown and new socks and comb her hair. If we are expecting company such as over the holidays, I will get out the makeup so she looks more lively. (We had over fifteen for Christmas from California, Colorado and Maryland--I think it was one of the best holidays in memory in spite of the circumstances.)

Then Dad gets the newspaper, turns down the heaters and either he or I empty Mom's potty chair by the bed. He does dishes and then gets cleaned up mid-morning to head for the senior center downtown where he serves the lunch and coffee, eats his lunch, does the dishes and then brings home Mom's lunch. The senior center used to be their primary social activity and the big warm daily meal when they went together. Now, Dad waits on the 70 to 80 somethings that eat down there! On Fridays he heads out to visit his friend for the afternoon.

The first week was an emotional swinging ride for me. I kept the day busy with chores, organizing and cleaning this old house. But as nightfall came I would realize why I was here and find myself choking back the tears or crying myself to sleep.

Mom has lost bladder and is losing bowel control and her legs are weak. We make it together to the bathroom 4 to 5 times a day. I have to hold her nightgown over her shoulders so that she can concentrate on sitting on the commode. I also have to wipe her rear end as she can't do it as well as it needs to be done. We have nurses assistants come in about 4 times a week from the hospice program to help bathe her, cut her nails, brush her dentures and/or set her hair. A nurse is now coming in weekly to monitor her life signs. Every other week we get a chaplain although neither of my parents are religious, they do enjoy this visit. She needs the care of a two-year-old, but every single person that comes in loves her as they find her so upbeat and friendly, unlike many of their patients, I am sure. She will stutter over her words as she gets tired and then laugh and tell them she speaks a 'foreign' language or that she speaks three languages at the same time.

This is a bit of a conflict for me, because she was a really stubborn and set-in-her-ways mother when I was growing up and even when I became an adult. I could never please her with whatever gift I brought or whatever idea I had. So, I guess my first blessing in this process is that she is mellowing out.

Some days she realizes that she has a terminal illness and other days she acts as though I am here to just help get her back on her feet.

We have tried working on leg exercises to strengthen her a little. The hospice program does not support that kind of therapy. They do nothing that would prolong her dying. She does sleep about 80% of the time. I fill that time with checking emails via modem and my brothers computer, working on the quilt for my daughter, reading, watching TV and some exercising. The next blog I will talk about the siblings.