Saturday, November 29, 2014

It's All in the Timing

Why does anyone ever get sent home from the hospital on a Saturday or a Sunday?
Why does my mother seem particularly prone to being hospitalized around holidays and birthdays? (not her own birthday though)
How could it have possibly taken me a full hour tonight to put the detergent in the dishwasher and push the button to start it, each a step toward it interrupted by something my mother needed?
How is it that she could have fallen yesterday morning when that seems like several days ago?
And how is it that she could have fallen just minutes before I walked in the door yesterday morning (her version of the story) when her bedding was spotted with blood and pool of long dried blood was not that long after found on her floor?
How is it that a person who's been on this earth for 90 years has not learned to ask for help?
How much harder would this have all been without both my daughters visiting? (I don't think I really want to know the answer to that.)

I'm just full of questions tonight, aren't I?

In any event, she's home.



The foam topper on her hospital bed is now belted to the standard issue hospital bed mattress with yoga straps. (The askew foam topper is not why she fell, but was something that needed addressing.) Yet another reason to be grateful for my yoga practice and my yoga friends.



In other news: The two ounce martini was received politely. (The martini consumption can be, I believe, correlated to the fall.)


Two ounces per night (or perhaps less) will now be doled out by me. As opposed to the abundant pre-mixed supply as portrayed in the photo below.


And all other booze is now hidden. Come over. We'll party. The secret location here on the premises will be disclosed discreetly.

The coming days will hold a visit to the cardiologist (what is up with the low blood pressure?--hers--sure as hell not mine,) a visit to the primary care doctor, a visit to the orthopedist, home health visits from a nurse, a physical therapist, and, I feel reasonably certain, visits from my friends.



5 comments:

lily cedar said...

Your mother looks good, despite the black eyes. As we age, we lose our executive function ability. That's the part of the brain that says, maybe that's not a good idea, or maybe I should do up my coat before I go outside in -35C weather. What it looks like is obstinacy.

My mother was a great one for wandering away from her walker and then looking shocked, just shocked, that her walker had gotten so far away from her. As if the walker had moved on it's own.

It's stressful to say the least. My heart goes out to you.

Ms. Moon said...

You are both forces of nature.
And no, I don't know how you do it.

Elizabeth said...

If I weren't so worn-out and weary from my own care-giving, I would have stopped and had a martini with you yesterday. I'm glad your sense of humor is intact, if not your blood pressure.

37paddington said...

Take it one task at a time my friend and don't forget to breathe.

Bella Rum said...

I was full-time caregiver to my father for three years and share-cared four more years until he died last year at 96. Humor helps and writing. Oh, God! Writing saved me. Great post.