Mom has two favorite expressions right now. The first is "I'm dizzy." This means, "My brain feels scrambled and I am having trouble understanding anything right now." Giving her a job, or just a sense of direction, such as sending her down to lunch or taking a walk with her, usually cures this.
Her second expression is "I have chest pain." This means, "I am feeling very anxious right now." Reassurance, a quick check of vital signs, and a Tylenol usually take care of this. The attendants in assisted living know these tricks, and they are usually quite successful.
Last nite, they reassured her and sent her down to dinner. Nana sat down, looked around the room and said to the manager of the Cafe, "I can't eat. I'm dizzy and I have chest pain." The manager immediately called 911. (No blame to the manager. When someone says something so ominous, that is the correct strategy 95% of the time!)
I was walking the dog on the beach at the time, planning out my next 24 hours... Clean the cottage, go through the fridge, take out the trash and recyclables, start packing for our trip, and then head home around noon on Monday and go see Mom.....when I received the call that she was on her way to the ER. Sigh... Stuff the wet, stinky dog in the back seat of the van, and off to Worcester....
On the way home, I tried calling the hospital to give them a heads up-- Mom sounds very articulate, but she is alert and oriented to self only. But she will charm the crap out of you and you won't even realize that she doesn't know what she is talking about. But Mom is so good at this game that no one calls me back. I arrive at the hospital 90 minutes later, and she is sitting up, smiling at everyone. Hooked up to monitors, her heartrate is 60, oxygenation is 100%, and her blood pressure is 110/60. The doctor comes in when he sees me arrive and says, "She seems ok-- just a few anomalies in her bloodwork." Yea, that would be her leukemia. He looked at me, surprised, and said, "Well that answers a lot of my questions." I then defined her two favorite expressions: "I'm dizzy" and "I'm having chest pain." He remarked,"And that answers my other questions." He smiled, and said that just to be cautious we would need to stay for another 4 hours. I settled in for a bit of a wait.
After the first hour, we looked out in the hallway to see one of my Mom's friends from her assisted living residence. "Rose!" I called and she smiled and waved. She was with her niece, and she had come in with arm pain. Oy. The ER was full, so Rose sat outside Mom's room and the ladies visited. Rose's niece and I decided that if they could have served us a little wine and cheese, this wouldn't be half bad....
We got back at around 11:30pm, and I tucked Mom into bed. I think she enjoyed her little escapade (her only complaint? "There aren't many men around here. Do the men go to another hospital?") Thank goodness that there weren't, or she might have dizziness and chest pain again tonite...
So, a little flip in my schedule (I will be heading back to the beach this morning to finish my chores down there, and I will leave for work from there tomorrow... after I check in with Mom this am...) All's well that ends well...
Monday, June 6, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
One more overdue post
Sorry to post so many updates on the same day.... I lost my "password" and got a little behind. (OK, I forgot my password. Like most children of Alzheimers patients, I hate to admit to a faulty memory..)
Mom's grandson Ben is getting married in July to the lovely Anna, a woman that I know Nana will adore. Unfortunately, this wedding is in Greenville SC, a distance that is just too far for her. I know her limitations, but I wasn't sure if she would understand our reluctance to have her travel to the wedding.
The invitation arrived, and Nana opened the envelope. She looked at me and said, "Oh. I would LOVE to be there." She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Will there be family there at the wedding?" I assured her that all the aunts and uncles planned to make the trip with their families. She was relieved by this news. "Then I think that I should stay home. I might be ok, but I also might make a scene, and if I did, I would feel terrible. The attention should always remain on Ben and Anna."
That's my Mom.
Mom's grandson Ben is getting married in July to the lovely Anna, a woman that I know Nana will adore. Unfortunately, this wedding is in Greenville SC, a distance that is just too far for her. I know her limitations, but I wasn't sure if she would understand our reluctance to have her travel to the wedding.
The invitation arrived, and Nana opened the envelope. She looked at me and said, "Oh. I would LOVE to be there." She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Will there be family there at the wedding?" I assured her that all the aunts and uncles planned to make the trip with their families. She was relieved by this news. "Then I think that I should stay home. I might be ok, but I also might make a scene, and if I did, I would feel terrible. The attention should always remain on Ben and Anna."
That's my Mom.
A bit of Confabulation
I was helping Mom change into a new shirt after her breakfast a few weeks ago (Pancakes and strawberries can make quite a stain), when I noticed a spot on her right shoulder that I had never noticed before. I made an appointment with the dermatologist, and she reluctantly decided to remove some tissue for biopsy. Surprisingly, the biopsy showed melanoma in situ (in other words, early melanoma which has not spread.) She was scheduled for surgery, and the site was removed. For two weeks, a visiting nurse came to change the dressing, and then the stitches were removed.
Having a visiting nurse is not something that she minds. At all. She loves visitors, and enjoys sharing stories. Of course, sometimes these stories get a little convoluted. Sometimes, they are just plain wrong. So, I wasn't too surprised when the nurse asked me outside of Mom's earshot, "Um, this is kind of personal, but.. Did your sister die recently?" Uh, no; all present and accounted for. "Your Mom told me that her daughter Mary died at a young age. But then later in the visit, she looked at another family photo and said, "Wait, there's Mary. She's still alive, and lives down the street, I think." Well, she's healthy. But Virginia is a bit of a distance from Massachusetts.
She has also been killing off my father at an earlier and earlier age. Dad died 12 years ago, 2 days before his 70th birthday. She has been informing everyone that he died at age 43. Hmmm...
But like most of her mixed up stories, there is some truth to them. Dad had a sister Mary Claire, who died when she was 13, and her passing haunted my father and his parents. She was probably thinking of her when she said that her daughter Mary was gone. And as for Dad, they were married for 45 years, a number close to 43-- I think that is why she uses that number as his lifespan.
Stitches are out, but the doc says that she needs a little more work-- the melanoma extended beyond the margins that he removed (it is still "in situ". There is just a few more cells to remove...) We will do that in July. And Mom will once again be able to have a visiting nurse to talk with. I'm looking forward to more fractured family history lessons!
Having a visiting nurse is not something that she minds. At all. She loves visitors, and enjoys sharing stories. Of course, sometimes these stories get a little convoluted. Sometimes, they are just plain wrong. So, I wasn't too surprised when the nurse asked me outside of Mom's earshot, "Um, this is kind of personal, but.. Did your sister die recently?" Uh, no; all present and accounted for. "Your Mom told me that her daughter Mary died at a young age. But then later in the visit, she looked at another family photo and said, "Wait, there's Mary. She's still alive, and lives down the street, I think." Well, she's healthy. But Virginia is a bit of a distance from Massachusetts.
She has also been killing off my father at an earlier and earlier age. Dad died 12 years ago, 2 days before his 70th birthday. She has been informing everyone that he died at age 43. Hmmm...
But like most of her mixed up stories, there is some truth to them. Dad had a sister Mary Claire, who died when she was 13, and her passing haunted my father and his parents. She was probably thinking of her when she said that her daughter Mary was gone. And as for Dad, they were married for 45 years, a number close to 43-- I think that is why she uses that number as his lifespan.
Stitches are out, but the doc says that she needs a little more work-- the melanoma extended beyond the margins that he removed (it is still "in situ". There is just a few more cells to remove...) We will do that in July. And Mom will once again be able to have a visiting nurse to talk with. I'm looking forward to more fractured family history lessons!
Who are you?
It was the Thursday before Memorial Day-- time to take the winter wear out of Nana's closet and bring in the bright, summery clothes for the season ahead. I arrived at 8:30 am with a laundry basket and a large bag of her clothing, timing my visit for when she was usually at church. (I figured that I would get all the clothes in and out of her closet while she was occupied, so that I wouldn't get too much "help"-- haha.)
"Oh, hello." She was sitting in her bedroom, tying her shoes.
"Hi Mom. I have all your summer clothes. Just thought I would switch out your closet and get you ready for Summer."
"Really? It's Summertime?"
"Almost. This is Memorial Day weekend."
"Wow. I didn't know that! Good idea."
"Why don't you go downstairs and have breakfast, and then afterwards, we can go for a walk. I will get your closet done while you are gone."
"That would be lovely. Thank you."
Hmmm.... No suggestion that I join her for breakfast and then she would "help" me? No kiss?
That's when it hit me. She doesn't know who I am. She thinks that I have been hired to take care of her closets! I have always known that this day would come, but it still hurt a bit.
I dragged all her winter clothes out of the closets and stuffed them in the back of our van. I then coordinated all her summer clothes, hopefully making it easier for her to put together an outfit. After about an hour and a half, I heard the front door open. Mom turned towards the bedroom and spotted me coming out of her closet. She threw her arms wide and smiled.
"Nancy, you're here! I'm so glad to see you!"
I got a big hug and kiss. My Mom was back.
"Oh, hello." She was sitting in her bedroom, tying her shoes.
"Hi Mom. I have all your summer clothes. Just thought I would switch out your closet and get you ready for Summer."
"Really? It's Summertime?"
"Almost. This is Memorial Day weekend."
"Wow. I didn't know that! Good idea."
"Why don't you go downstairs and have breakfast, and then afterwards, we can go for a walk. I will get your closet done while you are gone."
"That would be lovely. Thank you."
Hmmm.... No suggestion that I join her for breakfast and then she would "help" me? No kiss?
That's when it hit me. She doesn't know who I am. She thinks that I have been hired to take care of her closets! I have always known that this day would come, but it still hurt a bit.
I dragged all her winter clothes out of the closets and stuffed them in the back of our van. I then coordinated all her summer clothes, hopefully making it easier for her to put together an outfit. After about an hour and a half, I heard the front door open. Mom turned towards the bedroom and spotted me coming out of her closet. She threw her arms wide and smiled.
"Nancy, you're here! I'm so glad to see you!"
I got a big hug and kiss. My Mom was back.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Living in the Present
Thursday morning, and I am trying to fit a day's worth of chores into the morning hours. My list (yes, I write a list so that I don't forget anything) included walking the dog, stopping by Town Hall, post office, CVS, working out at the gym, filling Nana's pill box and showering, all before leaving for a work meeting at 2pm... I even mapped out my chores, so I spent as little time and gas as possible. I hit the CVS, town hall and post office before arriving at Nana's.
All was quiet when I arrived at her apartment. "Good," I thought, "I will just slip in, fill her pills and slip right out." I went into the kitchen, unlocked her medicine cabinet and filled her weekly pill boxes. I then peeked in her rooms, just in case she was there, before I headed to the community room to say hello. I found her lying across her bed, resting. She opened one eye.
"Hi!," she said, smiling but not moving. "I'm being a lazy lug today." I got a sudden urge to join her. I took off my coat and joined her on the other side of the bed. "Wow," I said, "This is pretty great!" She laughed. We laid on the bed and discussed the merits of taking a little time off every once in a while. After 20 minutes, I got up and said that it was time for me to get back to my list. She said that she was going to be lazy a little while longer. I gave her a kiss and crawled out of the bed. "Good bye-- Love you, Mom!" "Oh Honey, I love you too!"
Those were the most productive and precious 20 minutes that I spent all day.
All was quiet when I arrived at her apartment. "Good," I thought, "I will just slip in, fill her pills and slip right out." I went into the kitchen, unlocked her medicine cabinet and filled her weekly pill boxes. I then peeked in her rooms, just in case she was there, before I headed to the community room to say hello. I found her lying across her bed, resting. She opened one eye.
"Hi!," she said, smiling but not moving. "I'm being a lazy lug today." I got a sudden urge to join her. I took off my coat and joined her on the other side of the bed. "Wow," I said, "This is pretty great!" She laughed. We laid on the bed and discussed the merits of taking a little time off every once in a while. After 20 minutes, I got up and said that it was time for me to get back to my list. She said that she was going to be lazy a little while longer. I gave her a kiss and crawled out of the bed. "Good bye-- Love you, Mom!" "Oh Honey, I love you too!"
Those were the most productive and precious 20 minutes that I spent all day.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
A Visit from the Slade Brigade
Mary, Allen and the five youngest Slades came out this past weekend to see Nana. I was a little nervous-- How would she do? Would she remember her family? Would the visit bring joy or anxiety?
I arrived at her apartment 30 minutes before Mary and Company. We figured that I could go through the "family picture book" and familiarize her with the Slades prior to their arrival. Mom was very excited that they were coming, and we were going through the last of the pics as they arrived. She gave everyone hugs, and told them how much they had grown. She did a great job keeping up with the conversations, and enjoyed bowling and having everyone for lunch. At one point during lunch she said,"I have an announcement to make." We all turned towards her and she said," I don't know if you know this, but I have Alzheimers disease." We looked at each other and then said,"Yup, we know." "Thank Goodness!," she said, "I was afraid you would notice I forgot things and think I was crazy!"
The next day, we came back in the afternoon and stayed through dinner. We went bowling together, and Nana was the high scorer (Candlepin bowling is the great equalizer...) We celebrated her birthday and David's at dinner, and had another wonderful visit. Mary left the next morning.
Nana called Sunday, complaining of heart pain. I headed over to see how she was doing, curious to see what she would tell me about her weekend. I gave her some Mylanta, which got rid of the pain, and asked her if she had a fun weekend. She said, "Did I?" I told her that the Slades were in town for the weekend. "How nice. And how are they doing?" I reviewed all our weekend adventures, including the results of our family bowling competition. "I won?," she exclaimed," Now, that is certainly something I wish I remembered!"
As Mary reminded me, we are no longer creating memories for Mom. When we visit, we are creating happy moments; and this weekend, she had plenty of those. Thanks for our memories, Nana.
I arrived at her apartment 30 minutes before Mary and Company. We figured that I could go through the "family picture book" and familiarize her with the Slades prior to their arrival. Mom was very excited that they were coming, and we were going through the last of the pics as they arrived. She gave everyone hugs, and told them how much they had grown. She did a great job keeping up with the conversations, and enjoyed bowling and having everyone for lunch. At one point during lunch she said,"I have an announcement to make." We all turned towards her and she said," I don't know if you know this, but I have Alzheimers disease." We looked at each other and then said,"Yup, we know." "Thank Goodness!," she said, "I was afraid you would notice I forgot things and think I was crazy!"
The next day, we came back in the afternoon and stayed through dinner. We went bowling together, and Nana was the high scorer (Candlepin bowling is the great equalizer...) We celebrated her birthday and David's at dinner, and had another wonderful visit. Mary left the next morning.
Nana called Sunday, complaining of heart pain. I headed over to see how she was doing, curious to see what she would tell me about her weekend. I gave her some Mylanta, which got rid of the pain, and asked her if she had a fun weekend. She said, "Did I?" I told her that the Slades were in town for the weekend. "How nice. And how are they doing?" I reviewed all our weekend adventures, including the results of our family bowling competition. "I won?," she exclaimed," Now, that is certainly something I wish I remembered!"
As Mary reminded me, we are no longer creating memories for Mom. When we visit, we are creating happy moments; and this weekend, she had plenty of those. Thanks for our memories, Nana.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Obsessions
Every few months, Mom has a new obsession. Not unusual with Alzheimers patients, there is often a bit of paranoia tied in... As memories fade, people often believe that others are stealing from them in other ways. I try to convince her that this is not true; and for a while, she believes me... But inevitably, she will go back to her way of thinking.
One of her first obsessions was that someone was stealing her bananas. "I bring them home, and then when I am ready to eat them, they are gone. Someone is breaking into my apartment and stealing my bananas." Despite our best efforts, Tom and I could not convince her that she was eating them herself. She began hiding bananas everywhere in her home. We'd walk into a room and smell the distinct smell of overripe bananas; and then the hunt would begin. We found them in desk drawers, closets, the dishwasher, kitchen cabinets. They would be dessicated and brown-- but Mom would insist that she knew the banana was there the whole time. I haven't smelled any bananas since Christmastime; she has moved onto a new obsession.
Maxipads. Once again, she is sure that someone is stealing them because there are less and less in the bag every day. "That's because you are using them, Mom." "Well yes-- but so is someone else!" Yesterday, I found eight packages, unopened in various areas of the apartment-- the closets, cabinets, desk drawers, behind the extra bed, in an attache case... everywhere but the bathroom ("But people will find them there!") I even found a group of jackets with a pad in each pocket... sigh. I designated a drawer in her dresser as the maxipad drawer-- I will see how many of them have been moved when I return tomorrow.
The store owner in the assisted living facility asked me if she should continue to allow Mom to purchase these pads.. "She must have 20 boxes in her apartment!" I told her to tell her that she has a drawer full in her room upstairs, but if she insists, sell them to her. It's a small price for peace of mind.
One of her first obsessions was that someone was stealing her bananas. "I bring them home, and then when I am ready to eat them, they are gone. Someone is breaking into my apartment and stealing my bananas." Despite our best efforts, Tom and I could not convince her that she was eating them herself. She began hiding bananas everywhere in her home. We'd walk into a room and smell the distinct smell of overripe bananas; and then the hunt would begin. We found them in desk drawers, closets, the dishwasher, kitchen cabinets. They would be dessicated and brown-- but Mom would insist that she knew the banana was there the whole time. I haven't smelled any bananas since Christmastime; she has moved onto a new obsession.
Maxipads. Once again, she is sure that someone is stealing them because there are less and less in the bag every day. "That's because you are using them, Mom." "Well yes-- but so is someone else!" Yesterday, I found eight packages, unopened in various areas of the apartment-- the closets, cabinets, desk drawers, behind the extra bed, in an attache case... everywhere but the bathroom ("But people will find them there!") I even found a group of jackets with a pad in each pocket... sigh. I designated a drawer in her dresser as the maxipad drawer-- I will see how many of them have been moved when I return tomorrow.
The store owner in the assisted living facility asked me if she should continue to allow Mom to purchase these pads.. "She must have 20 boxes in her apartment!" I told her to tell her that she has a drawer full in her room upstairs, but if she insists, sell them to her. It's a small price for peace of mind.
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