Today has been an emotional roller coaster in the parent/child relationship department. Thank goodness I had a bit of strength return. I zapped the supply today!
After a slow morning, blogging, resting, watching the storm pass, I had to take my mom to her cardiologists. I'm in the kitchen, watching the clock, when I hear what sounds a little worrisome. M-i-L's aide was here for bath time. I didn't take the time to knock. "Do you guys need me in here?" I asked, as I pushed the bedroom door open.
There is M-i-L, F-i-L and aide, group-hugging in front of the dresser. I run to the group and try to help M-i-L to stand straight. Been there before. "Where's her belt?" Hidden in a bag. "I learned a long time ago that weight goes down easier than up. Let's just roll her down gently to the floor and I'll call the non-emergency number and get the gusto guys out here to pick her up." Everyone is in agreement.
It was a very gentle sit. No bleeding head this time, no broken bones. Knees bent farther than they probably should have. Clock is still ticking. The gusto guys remember her. She seems to be OK, so me and the twosome get her back into her lift chair, while the aide guides all the attachments. Not a day to walk. The bath will be in the chair. I am assured by the aide that I can leave. We hug and I do.
Mom's cardio is just a check-up and she passed. Then on to Urgent Care. PCP's on vacation and she has a little infection thing going on. So, might as well take care of it all in one trip. Two hours plus later, I'm dropping her off at her apartment and head to the drugstore where I tell them I'll be back later.
I've got to eat soon according to Rae's Weather Vane;) Phone calls come in while I'm heating up a left-over sub. As I talk and prepare, I notice F-i-L loitering in the hall. "Do you need me?" Yes. M-i-L needs to... well, you know. "I'll call you back..."
"Belt is on, OK, let's roll this thing up." Now things are going down. Hubby is gone, (probably wouldn't have made much difference) and the two of us can't get her switched over. She towers over me and is not thin. He is in his eighties.
So now I've got to convince her that what happens in that chair, happens. We're sitting down until help arrives. I start making calls. Finally B-i-L can be here in twenty.
This is his first time. Never before have I had to call upon him to do care-taking responsibilities for his mother. I know it had to have been hard. The role reversal was hard for me too with my mom. But he's a trooper. I tell him we have to hug her into bed where we can strip her from the waist down and replace her pretty silky things with more appropriate attire until this too shall pass. It's the only way we can keep her comfortable and clean until she can stand again. Maybe tomorrow. Her husband of over sixty years is not handling this well. She is a prideful woman. I have to remind her that until she can put down the pride, we cannot do the ministry God has for us here. We don't see her flesh. We see Mother.
This ordeal was quite a workout. The silky jams and sheets help to adjust her position, and finally she is properly protected and positioned in her hospital bed.
Later, after the morphine kicks in and she is resting, she looks at me with those eyes that no longer can produce tears, but redden all the same...
Her safety and comfort come top on my list. Her bones pull apart easily. Last years three-surgeries-in-a-row still haunt us.
When Hubby gets home, I fill him in on this evening's events. He is afraid that it is time. His father feels that way too. Maybe tomorrow she will walk. We'll see. But if she can't?
I don't know about the tears... I couldn't see through mine. But Hubby's eyes reddened all the same. And I'll get to the drugstore in the morning.
