Funny thing about oral laxatives.
    I don't know of any (and I'm familiar with most, if not all, of them) that don't mention in the directions to take the laxative with plenty of water, at least an 8 oz serving, to chase and activate the initial dose.
    I forgot to mention that I did allow my mother to have Phillip's administered on a one time basis, yesterday, to alleviate the possibility of more entrenched constipation. Did the nurse follow it with water? No. I did, when I noticed the nurse leaving the bathroom after laxative administration and not coming back with water. And, of course, it wasn't an easy task. It took a good 5 minutes, probably plus, to coax my mother, through her protests, into drinking at least 8 ounces of water.
    Regarding water and the facility in which my mother is now residing, two floors out of four usually have water carts...which are just as likely to be empty as full. Yesterday, twice, I trotted around the floors to find the "other" water cart so that I could fill my mother's water pitcher. There are, of course, sink faucets in each room but one would assume, from the presence of water carts, that drinking the faucet water is not encouraged or recommended. So, you know, hydration isn't just a staffing problem, it's also a resource problem. Shades of global warming, although this facility problem long pre-dates the current global water crisis.
    Does facility staff have time to coax fluid-recalcitrant patients into drinking fluids, even so little as the recommended amount to follow an oral laxative? No. Should they have this time? Yes. Otherwise, what damned good does it do to administer oral laxatives on a prophylactic basis? Can anyone answer that question?
    Although I'm crossing my fingers on this one, I'm expecting that, before she leaves, Mom will probably need to have yet another suppository administered to clean her out. I'll keep an eye on her and, if necessary, I'll allow it. May as well re-embark on our at-home adventure with a clean slate. So to speak.
    Today is a cold pill day. I've been lucky, so far...I think it's been about four weeks since I had my last cold pill day. I discovered a few weeks ago that drinking caffeinated tea in the afternoon is more energy promoting than drinking coffee. A few days after I switched I discovered a "suggestion" on a display board in the facility filled with ways to revive employees from a mid-afternoon slump. One of the suggestions was to switch from coffee to tea in the afternoon. No chemical reason was given, so I looked this up and it seems that coffee has a tendency to retard the production of insulin, which keeps the body from readily processing glucose, which raises blood sugar even in non-diabetics, thus promoting tiredness (unless, of course, you're drinking coffee and not eating). A few days later I decided to try switching entirely from coffee to tea. Unfortunately, this didn't work. It seems morning coffee still performs the trick for me better than morning tea. But, afternoon tea works better than afternoon coffee.
    "Going limp" physically, emotionally and intellectually, just for a minute or two periodically throughout the day, works much like "going limp" works when you're on a long and/or demanding hike. This physical technique is a guaranteed way to clear out the lactic acid in muscles that causes pain and stiffness from over-exertion. It refreshes the taxed muscle for the next step. I read about this in a backpacking book I keep in my bathroom as reading material. I accidentally discovered that it works on the spirit, as well, when I was in the hospital and found myself autonomously "going limp" one evening when they were moving my mother to a private room for pneumonia treatment. One of the CNAs, who'd been in the business for decades (she's in her 70's) noticed my posture in a chair, commented on it and attached my finger to an oxymeter that also measures pulse rate. My blood oxygen level was surprisingly high and my pulse rate was surprisingly low. "Good," the nurse said, "you're resting. You'll feel great in a few minutes." At the time she said this I wasn't convinced, as I felt as though I might fall out of the chair onto the floor, but she was right. I've been making intermittent "going limp" a policy ever since.
    I've been meaning to publish these two little tricks for quite awhile, in case they might help someone else.
    Oh, one other lesson I've learned: Don't obfuscate with stroke victims (or, probably, anyone else who wants feedback about conditions with which they are dealing). The guy I mentioned in an earlier post who asked me for a waste basket (because he was collecting a huge number of used tissues wiping drool from his face and storing them underneath his right thigh for later disposal) began asking me a few days ago, on a twice daily basis, whether he was "leaning" in his chair and, if so, in what direction and to what degree. The first time he asked me I couldn't see any reason not to answer honestly; although I'd heard him ask others and noticed that everyone, professional or not, was telling him that he "looked fine". He continues to check with me, simply nods when I answer him, but, as well, he's successively sitting straighter in his chair and calls me "dear" when we indulge in our exchanges in the hall.
    Later.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 06:20   email  this post