Mom returns home, today.
    I've been reminding her so frequently of "our" return home that, of her own accord, yesterday, she acknowledged that her stay at the facility is coming to an end. "This has been a wonderful vacation," she said. During her lunch, which was typical facility/diner (MPNP and I decided that "diner" is the perfect description of this food and probably why my mother and others of her generation like it so much) food, nothing special or different than what she's been eating there, she talked about how much she enjoyed her meal, how much she's enjoyed all the meals she's been served and spontaneously mentioned, "I must send my compliments to the chef." I will see to it that this is done. I mean, the facility food may not be to my taste, but it has been to Mom's. She has been so thrilled with it that, for the most part (except for the hot cereal at breakfast), she's eaten every bite, including eating her butter with a spoon straight right out of the tiny plastic crocks in which is is packaged.
    I am so excited about her return that I'm rather like a kid on Christmas morning. I awoke at 0330 this morning, full of delicious anticipation. Although, for Mom, coming home will be like the end of a vacation, for me it will be like the beginning of one: I will no longer have to live in two places at once. What a relief!
    Her return is not completely trouble free. Our medical supply company, who has been working with Hospice, delivered a load of D(urable) M(edical) E(quipment) on Friday. Over the weekend I've discovered that they failed miserably. The walker is defective and cannot be adjusted to Mom's height. The bedside roll-under-the-bed table (which we'll actually be using in the living room) is so unstable that with only slight weight on the table top it angles to the point of potentially dumping whatever is sitting on it. As well, It cannot be securely adjusted: It creeps up. Two other pieces we simply won't be able to use even though I have no reason to believe they are defective. I had thought that we might be able to use the frame of the bedside commode around our toilet, but it doesn't fit with the toilet riser we already have and which is comfortable for my mother and necessary, as well. The bedside rails, as I think I mentioned, are so long that, even completely collapsed, they end at a point that will require my mother to sleep halfway down her bed in order for her to utilize them appropriately. The only piece of equipment I haven't tried is the nebulizer machine. We'll find out if that works today.
    I've also discovered that Mom probably needs a wheelchair made for a child in order to suit her knee-to-floor measurement and be appropriate for our narrow halls and doorways. This shouldn't be a problem. I'll be continuing to scout charity organizations for such a chair.
    My irritation about all this, though, is minor. I'm confident that, even without the equipment which could have made our life a bit easier, in the meantime, while Mom is resettling and I'm looking for alternative equipment, we'll be fine. We're good at adapting and we know how to use this house to our advantage.
    I've also made an important decision: After these five and a half weeks of various types of facility care I will not be taking advantage, again, of Hospice offered respite, even if Mom lives long enough for me to again qualify (which I suspect she will). I'm sure it is useful for some, maybe even for many, but my involvement in my mother's life and my insistence on her getting high quality physical and emotional care means that "respite" stays make my life harder rather than easier.
    Still much to do. It will be a busy morning of phone calls and packing Mom out at the facility. The Hospice Nurse is due to arrive for a visit at home a bit later than we'll be arriving. Since we won't have a decent walker until tomorrow, probably, I imagine that today will be a wheelchair day and I'll probably be finding out how well the ramps MPNP built work with about 160 pounds seated in a wheelchair. There are a few tweaks to the house I forgot to perform. I'll do those once Mom is "on site". I believe I'll also be needing to pick up at least one and possibly two medications we're missing at the pharmacy, so I'll be quickly finding out if I can still confidently leave Mom alone when she is asleep. Still and all, I expect today to suddenly turn easy once Mom is home. The cats will be ecstatic. So will I. In addition, we've actually got a "new" Bette Davis movie rental to watch this evening. Mom has decided she wants pizza for her first meal home. It'll be as though she never left.
    I'm grinning.
    Later.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 04:47   email  this post