Mom's tiring of being injured.
    "I'll sure be glad when this heals," she said. "It's getting old." She hates to be "laid up" even though her life, now, is quite sedentary. I completely sympathize. Even though she doesn't "get around much, anymore", the idea of doing so still flits freely through her mind. Having an injured shoulder puts a damper on desire, which is as important to Mom as doing.
    Curiously, I'm not finding the process of nursing her through this injury tiresome. I thought I might. I have before, not always but sometimes. It's nice not to have to deal with my impatience as well as my mother's temporary disability. I have no idea when or how my patience developed, but I'm glad for it.
    I ordered a "baby" monitor this morning. After doing my research and calling all the stores I could think of in the area that might carry the brand and model upon which I decided, it was clear that I'd have to get it from out of town. It should arrive early next week. I've been talking about it with Mom. It was a possibility that the Hospice RN suggested might be timely to pursue, now. Yesterday, as it turns out, Mom and I had an episode where she was calling me in the morning and I thought what I heard was Mr. Man warbling at the back Arcadia door, as he often does when he wants me to know he's sighted something interesting. He was at the door, staring into our backyard. I headed down the hall to see what he'd spotted a couple of times but never noticed anything. As it happened, each time I was in the hall, Mom was resting from calling for me. Finally, on the third or fourth trek, she spoke up while I was in the hall right next to her bedroom and all the pieces to the puzzle fell together. I agree with the Hospice RN. It's no longer appropriate for me to assume that I will hear her; and certainly no longer appropriate for me to think that what is actually her voice is Mr. Man.
    Mom is excited about the device. She thinks of it as a walkie talkie, which, I guess, it sort of is, only one way. "Can I call you on it?" She asked.
    "Yes. All you have to do is speak and I'll hear you. You don't even have to press a button or lean into it or anything. I'll probably even hear you coughing in your sleep, maybe I'll hear you snoring, depending on how sensitive it is, I might even hear you turning in bed."
    "I hope I'll hear you when you talk to me. My hearing's not that good, you know [That's the understatement of the year!]"
    "I'm not sure that's how it works, Mom. I think it only transmits you, not me."
    "Oh. Well, that's a shame. We could get some good conversations going."
    I have no doubt.
    Anyway, time to awaken the Mom from her nap.
    Later, no doubt.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 20:58   email  this post