This week ran hot and cold with Mom.
She napped, she had some exercise, she had some correspondence, and she had a visit from her Diaper Buddy, Jean of the RLC.
First off, Mom received word of her sister-in-law's son's death. This she read aloud to Jean during their visit. We had known Patti's son was terminally ill, and Peter's letter gave Mom the information. Whether it touched home or not is a matter of conjecture, but she was happy to hear from him, nonetheless.
When Jean arrived at St. A's, she found Mom watching television in the viewing room. Jean was amazed at how large a room it was, and the seats so comfortable. However, whatever they were viewing was not something of "value" to either of them, so they went back to Mom's room.
Next they went to the garden and strayed around the flowers and plants. This was enjoyable to them both.
As one of Mom's old friends from book group in Port Angeles had been in contact for Mom's address, Jean mentioned it to her. Later, Mom told Jean that Betty (the friend from Port Angeles) was coming to get her for book group, so this gave Jean an easy out for leaving without Mom trying to ask for a ride home.
Sadly, one of the cottage mates of Mom's passed earlier this month. Mom and Jean had known her as children. However, there was very little, if any, impact upon Mom. She wasn't even sure of who it was. I tried to remind her it was the woman whose feet she'd stomped, but that memory was long gone.
This morning Mom was up and bathed and reading the paper when I arrived. I could barely understand her when she spoke, but soon that matter was no more. It seemed to take her forever to ready herself - she was worried that the paper wouldn't be read by anyone else, then putting on her shoes, then finally brushing her teeth.
She spoke of a phone call she'd received the night before in which a man began asking her personal questions about dating, relationships, and other information. Mom was upset. She stated that he also told her that they were going to monitor her bathroom habits, as well. Well, this just wouldn't do. I reported it to the staff who had no idea of such a man, call, or monitoring. But they wrote it down, just the same.
Just as I thought we were ready to depart she took out her purse and decided to sit down with it and begin reading the letters and notes that were inside. At last, nearly forty minutes later she was ready.
We arrived at Jean's house with lunch in hand. Roasted chicken, asparagus, and red grapes. A light but healthy lunch. We had a pleasant chat while Jean's grandson, Marcos, visited with her, as well. Mom was quite anxious, today, and kept wanting to leave, but I kept her at bay.
Later, Jean's daughter and her husband, daughter, and boyfriend came by for Mother's Day. This made Mom truly anxious, so we needed to leave.
Mom was tired, but fulfilled.
I had brought her a card, but she read it and had me put it with the other cards on the counter. Perhaps it was best that she hadn't received anything else; for her it was a typical day and any sort of sentimentality was lost to her airwaves. Oh well.
She napped, she had some exercise, she had some correspondence, and she had a visit from her Diaper Buddy, Jean of the RLC.
First off, Mom received word of her sister-in-law's son's death. This she read aloud to Jean during their visit. We had known Patti's son was terminally ill, and Peter's letter gave Mom the information. Whether it touched home or not is a matter of conjecture, but she was happy to hear from him, nonetheless.
When Jean arrived at St. A's, she found Mom watching television in the viewing room. Jean was amazed at how large a room it was, and the seats so comfortable. However, whatever they were viewing was not something of "value" to either of them, so they went back to Mom's room.
Next they went to the garden and strayed around the flowers and plants. This was enjoyable to them both.
As one of Mom's old friends from book group in Port Angeles had been in contact for Mom's address, Jean mentioned it to her. Later, Mom told Jean that Betty (the friend from Port Angeles) was coming to get her for book group, so this gave Jean an easy out for leaving without Mom trying to ask for a ride home.
Sadly, one of the cottage mates of Mom's passed earlier this month. Mom and Jean had known her as children. However, there was very little, if any, impact upon Mom. She wasn't even sure of who it was. I tried to remind her it was the woman whose feet she'd stomped, but that memory was long gone.
This morning Mom was up and bathed and reading the paper when I arrived. I could barely understand her when she spoke, but soon that matter was no more. It seemed to take her forever to ready herself - she was worried that the paper wouldn't be read by anyone else, then putting on her shoes, then finally brushing her teeth.
She spoke of a phone call she'd received the night before in which a man began asking her personal questions about dating, relationships, and other information. Mom was upset. She stated that he also told her that they were going to monitor her bathroom habits, as well. Well, this just wouldn't do. I reported it to the staff who had no idea of such a man, call, or monitoring. But they wrote it down, just the same.
Just as I thought we were ready to depart she took out her purse and decided to sit down with it and begin reading the letters and notes that were inside. At last, nearly forty minutes later she was ready.
We arrived at Jean's house with lunch in hand. Roasted chicken, asparagus, and red grapes. A light but healthy lunch. We had a pleasant chat while Jean's grandson, Marcos, visited with her, as well. Mom was quite anxious, today, and kept wanting to leave, but I kept her at bay.
Later, Jean's daughter and her husband, daughter, and boyfriend came by for Mother's Day. This made Mom truly anxious, so we needed to leave.
Mom was tired, but fulfilled.
I had brought her a card, but she read it and had me put it with the other cards on the counter. Perhaps it was best that she hadn't received anything else; for her it was a typical day and any sort of sentimentality was lost to her airwaves. Oh well.
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