My last post was February 23, and here it is, after midnight, March 11 already. So much has happened and yet so little. I realize that sounds very contradictory, but it's the truth. Time is flying by, but yet seems to be simultaneously creeping along. I'm writing this as Mom is in the bathroom with stomach cramps. She was sound asleep for an hour and now the cramps have her miserable. I'd given her melatonin the last few nights and she slept quite well, but the stomach pain makes it impossible for her to sleep. I've given her a dose of morphine to help with the pain about five minutes ago. We'll see how tonight goes...
Anyway, when we moved Mom to our house on February 19, we put the hospital bed, commode, transport chair and assorted diapers and supplies in our living room. Carl and David had come home and moved the majority of the stained glass lamps and the library table they stood on to the basement and shoved the couch up against the living room window. We put Mom's hospital bed up against the north wall of the living room which adjoins our bedroom. The first few nights were rough. Mom wasn't feeling very well. I slept with our bedroom door open and kept my mom ears on for any movement or sound of pain. If I thought I heard something, I turn on my cellphone and look at the camera. Thank goodness for the cameras, they have saved me countless trips in and out of bed.
For the first week here, I had a hard time getting my house in order. Well, truth be told, I had been dropping the ball on my house lately anyway; living with my 'collector' husband has made life a tad difficult and the old saying, 'You get like the people you live with' was sadly coming true more and more. 'If you can't beat 'em, join 'em' was also becoming my mantra; and that was sad. So in a way, having Mom move in here with us has been a good thing in more ways than one; it forced us to deal with things we've been putting off in much the same way having a garden walk scheduled will force me to keep the gardens weeded.
After the first week, I was already sick of the living room situation. Dave had picked up a bed alarm for me which clipped to Mom's nightshirt, however, she figured out how to unhook it and would try to get up by herself. This made my already light sleep even lighter; so David helped me figure out a way to run a string across the bed which would pull the alarm and alert me without Mom knowing where it was hooked up. Thank goodness for the alarm. Mom means well; she just doesn't want to bother me despite my harping on the same topic every night.
"Now, if you need to get up and use the bathroom or if you hurt, I want you to push the button here on your bed rail," I would tell her, night after night.
"I'll be good, I won't get up," Mom would promise.
"No, that's ok, you can get up and go to the bathroom when you need to, I just need you to let me know when you've got to get up. You're too unsteady on your feet and I don't want you to fall down. If you fall and heaven forbid, break a hip or an arm or whatever, then I don't know what I'll do. So just let me know when you need me. Please promise me that," I beg. "Here, push the button and see how it works."
So every night she would try to push the button, but half the time she couldn't remember how or didn't want to bother me. I was lucky and caught her several times before she fell. This reminds me very much of having an infant again; the nights can be pure torture at times.
After the first week here, I told Carl I wanted to move Mom into our downstairs master bedroom. 'Master' bedroom makes it sound so grand; our bedroom is only ten feet by ten feet and all that really fit in there was our monstrosity of a California queen-sized waterbed. My idea was to drain the waterbed and sleep in Joel's old bed in his room.
Carl was not on board with the idea. "Do you know how much work that will be? Besides, Joel's room is being used for storage. And I don't want to sleep in a regular bed; after sleeping at your mother's house, I much prefer the waterbed."
Drat. Would the upstairs bedroom support the weight of a 1600 pound waterbed? Ok, he had me stymied there. I almost gave up on the idea.
Note: Almost.
I just tucked Mom back into bed again, so I'm going to end this post here for now. One thing I've learned is catch some sleep when you can, just like motherhood all over again. :-)
Anyway, when we moved Mom to our house on February 19, we put the hospital bed, commode, transport chair and assorted diapers and supplies in our living room. Carl and David had come home and moved the majority of the stained glass lamps and the library table they stood on to the basement and shoved the couch up against the living room window. We put Mom's hospital bed up against the north wall of the living room which adjoins our bedroom. The first few nights were rough. Mom wasn't feeling very well. I slept with our bedroom door open and kept my mom ears on for any movement or sound of pain. If I thought I heard something, I turn on my cellphone and look at the camera. Thank goodness for the cameras, they have saved me countless trips in and out of bed.
For the first week here, I had a hard time getting my house in order. Well, truth be told, I had been dropping the ball on my house lately anyway; living with my 'collector' husband has made life a tad difficult and the old saying, 'You get like the people you live with' was sadly coming true more and more. 'If you can't beat 'em, join 'em' was also becoming my mantra; and that was sad. So in a way, having Mom move in here with us has been a good thing in more ways than one; it forced us to deal with things we've been putting off in much the same way having a garden walk scheduled will force me to keep the gardens weeded.
After the first week, I was already sick of the living room situation. Dave had picked up a bed alarm for me which clipped to Mom's nightshirt, however, she figured out how to unhook it and would try to get up by herself. This made my already light sleep even lighter; so David helped me figure out a way to run a string across the bed which would pull the alarm and alert me without Mom knowing where it was hooked up. Thank goodness for the alarm. Mom means well; she just doesn't want to bother me despite my harping on the same topic every night.
"Now, if you need to get up and use the bathroom or if you hurt, I want you to push the button here on your bed rail," I would tell her, night after night.
"I'll be good, I won't get up," Mom would promise.
"No, that's ok, you can get up and go to the bathroom when you need to, I just need you to let me know when you've got to get up. You're too unsteady on your feet and I don't want you to fall down. If you fall and heaven forbid, break a hip or an arm or whatever, then I don't know what I'll do. So just let me know when you need me. Please promise me that," I beg. "Here, push the button and see how it works."
So every night she would try to push the button, but half the time she couldn't remember how or didn't want to bother me. I was lucky and caught her several times before she fell. This reminds me very much of having an infant again; the nights can be pure torture at times.
After the first week here, I told Carl I wanted to move Mom into our downstairs master bedroom. 'Master' bedroom makes it sound so grand; our bedroom is only ten feet by ten feet and all that really fit in there was our monstrosity of a California queen-sized waterbed. My idea was to drain the waterbed and sleep in Joel's old bed in his room.
Carl was not on board with the idea. "Do you know how much work that will be? Besides, Joel's room is being used for storage. And I don't want to sleep in a regular bed; after sleeping at your mother's house, I much prefer the waterbed."
Drat. Would the upstairs bedroom support the weight of a 1600 pound waterbed? Ok, he had me stymied there. I almost gave up on the idea.
Note: Almost.
I just tucked Mom back into bed again, so I'm going to end this post here for now. One thing I've learned is catch some sleep when you can, just like motherhood all over again. :-)
3 comments:
Thanks for this latest update dear Karen. Yes, do get sleep when you can. That's what I did when dear husband was ill. 10 minutes here and there keeps you going.
Love, hugs & prayers ~ FlowerLady
Glad to hear from you, when ever you get a chance. Just remember you need to care of yourself also! So get your rest! Take care, hugs!!
What you are going through is heroic.
Gardening must be far from your mind at the moment, but I love the snowy garden picture with the urns. A penny saved is a penny earned... (I know, too corny).
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