I finally went into my email...
...and noticed comments and a note from four people, regular readers all, letting me know Mom and I are in their thoughts and they are all here for me...and I so much appreciate this...I want to write each of you back and express my gratitude. I will...in awhile...not sure when...

    No macaroni and cheese tonight, just ice chips. She tried to get up, has tried several times, in fact, but can't hold herself up. She bends over so far I couldn't see putting her in the wheelchair, even though she was insistent. I am afraid she'll fall out. I told her, as gently as possible, each time she told me she needed to get up, that this simply wasn't possible with only me there. Her request became so repetitive that it reminded me of when my Aunt Jean and my maternal grandmother, both in the depths of deep dementia, clamored to "go". I decided to ask Mom if she remembered this, which she did. Then, I asked her if she thought her insistence on getting up was like that because it seemed so to me, since she didn't seem to be able to tell me why she wanted to get up.
    "To go..." she said...
    ...and I laughed, and her eyes twinkled, she got the unintended joke she'd made...
    ...then she pointed to the west and nodded furiously...
    ...and I got the non-joke part! She'd been wanting to go to the bathroom!
    I told her that this would be impossible, which was why she was wearing extra strength diapers instead of her usual paper underwear. I explained that there's no way I'd be able to swing her around from bed to chair to toilet and back, and change her underwear, since she couldn't even sit up. "Mom," I said, "you'll have to go in your diapers."
    She shrugged, nodded and sighed.
    Actually, I'm rather sure it's not a bowel movement. She's drunk little and eaten less. About an hour and a half before her insistence on getting up came to a head I'd given her a compazine suppository when I changed her diaper. She'd vomited in her sleep and medication time was approaching. I knew I had to do something or she'd end up in horrible pain, once again, because she wouldn't be able to hold down the acetaminophen. The morphine, of course, wouldn't be affected. So, I called Hospice, the RN on call got the order for the compazine and that was that. I had to put off the acetaminophen by almost an hour, just to make sure it "stuck", since it takes the compazine 45 minutes to go to work fully. She had to endure a few minutes of pain, but it wasn't horrific, or incredible, or even annoying pain, it let up quickly and, if I hadn't been asking her every half hour or more, throughout the day and evening, if she was in pain, I never would have known she was experiencing it.
    She's gotten really annoyed with me asking her if she's in pain so often, but I have to. She would only cop to pain on her own if it was already "incredible", and by that time, anything that I could give her to work on it would take at least 20 minutes to take effect. Anyway, she decided she didn't want to acknowledge that question, anymore. I finally scolded her for this, explained why I was constantly asking her, and she understood. Now, when I ask her, she responds.
    We've spent the evening just visiting in her room, talking, and reading. At 2300 she decided she'd like to nap. I told her that was fine, and I'd be back at midnight to change her, refresh her meds, and then I'd probably lay down until her next dose was due. She looked disappointed, so, I don't know, we may read for awhile more.
    Oh, something curious and interesting: I put a breathing treatment on her and since that makes communication between us fairly difficult, we usually just sit and keep each other company during the treatment. At 2150, I think it was, I wrote the time down, she said something through the mask with such urgency that I figured I should take the mask off and have her repeat it.
    "It's a beautiful boy," she said, with what delight she could muster.
    "Oh! That's wonderful," I said, "whose is it?"
    She looked at me like I was some kind of idiot, then turned away. Obviously, I'd gotten the interpretation wrong. Then, I realized, she wasn't talking about someone having a child, she was mostly likely talking about someone who was visiting her, someone she expected to be other than "a beautiful boy". So, hmmm...I guess the visits have begun again, and they're including those of whom I'm unaware. I wonder who else will pop up. I wonder if she'll clue me into their presence. I hope so.
    I still have no idea where we are or where we're headed. I plan to ask our Hospice RN, tomorrow, if all this that's been taking place over the last few days sounds like the "active dying phase". It does to me...but, I've heard, before, most recently at Dethmama Chronicles and Dancing With Rose of people entering and leaving that phase several times before they they follow it through. So, I guess, it would be prudent, until Mom and I have gotten our bearings, to refer to this as Active Dying Phase I.
    Med, and maybe, story time.
    Later.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 23:59   email  this post