This afternoon, when Mom finished her nap...
...she arose from bed on her own and shuffled, as had been her habit prior to the evening of 5/14/08, from her bedroom, using furniture, walls, appliances and counters, all the way into the dinette and sat in her chair. yes, this was more than a bit dangerous. Adding to the danger, I was so deeply involved in finally going through Mom's hospital chart contents that had been copied and sent to the intermediary "respite" home that were given to me when she left (some of the contents of which merit a post of their own) that I didn't hear her shuffling until she was halfway through the kitchen, at which point I jumped to, scurried into the kitchen with the wheelchair and followed her in case she became shaky, which she didn't. She considered it just this side of disgusting that I felt the need to spot her.
    I've made a mental note to reactivate that portion of my aural scanners that used to detect her shuffling almost before it began. On the other hand, what today's activity indicates is exactly what I've been hoping: Here at home all her ingrained expectations involving the house being at her disposal are kicking in beautifully and prodding her to move and exercise those muscles that were on the verge of wasting in the hospital, the intermediary home and the rehab facility. She's not quite as free in movement as she was a month and a half ago, but she's getting there. She always begins every trek with the assumption that she'll be able to reach her destination as before. I follow her closely in the wheelchair, letting her know that I'm right behind her so that if her legs begin to feel "iffy" all she has to do is bend her knees and she'll be seated. She's been taking advantage of this a lot but today, after her nap, obviously, the wheelchair wasn't there and she persevered.
    She did some walkering this morning, from the bathroom to the dinette for breakfast. She complained about the walker, though. When I asked her to be as specific as possible about her complaints she said, "It just doesn't feel right."
    I figured I knew to what she was referring but I wanted to make sure. "You mean, like your other walker (the one with four wheels that I donated to the charity place where I got this one)?"
    "No," she said, "I didn't like that one, but it didn't feel like this one. There's something wrong with this one, I just can't put my finger on it."
    I know exactly what's wrong with it. The joints close to the top are the tiniest bit rickety and can't be fixed unless the plastic casing is replaced. The reason I know this is because when I was at the charity place the guy who manages the equipment explained this to me when I complained about the state of the walker. Her had several there of the same model, probably close to twenty. He took them all down for me and, sure enough, they all had the slightest jog to them, caused by the plastic casing expanding from age and use. So, that one goes back to the charity place. The one with which I left was the sturdiest of the lot. I think I'm going to spend some time next week canvassing the three other charity places here for medical equipment, but my hopes are low, frankly. I expect I'll end up purchasing a new walker so that Mom's will be sturdy. Funny how much this equipment costs new and how it all seems to define the ultimate in obsolescence. Medical equipment producers must be making money hand over fist. And, there must be a lot of people out there using barely adequate, somewhat dangerous equipment because they can't afford the medical equipment producers' profit margin. Jesus. The more I learn about the medical-industrial complex, the worse it looks.
    Anyway, I'm heading for bed, but I wanted to mention that Mom is coming to, again: Her cold is retreating; her coughing is loose and very productive; her temperature was normal all day today; her energy is returning; so is her native initiative in her home.
    I remain exhausted, short-fused, scared, perplexed and extremely discouraged by all the circumstances surrounding us, at this time. Nonetheless, Mom's recovery is the light guiding me through this treacherous tunnel and I wanted to spend a few words celebrating her.
    Later.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 01:09   email  this post