Some like it hot
Some like it cold
Some like it in the pot
Five days old……
There’s truly no accounting for taste; especially when one has dementia. For some odd reason, whenever my brother or I speak to Mom it just doesn’t process, most of the time. Who knows. But, whatever the case, Mom has been mentally going down. She ate most of the meals during the week, but then, today (Sunday) she wouldn’t eat until lunch. But, I’ll let you be the judge of her week - -
Monday: Mom was very confused. She refused to eat as well as come out of her room. Leddy tried to help her change, but she refused, as well. Finally, Leddy came back and convinced Mom to eat. Whew.
Tuesday: Mom, once again, refused to be changed - until Leddy allowed her to wear another pair of pants that she liked. The hospice nurse came and showered her, and Morina and Lea also helped her. She finally came out and ate lunch.
Later, she would attend her BINGO game, as this is something she quite enjoys.
Her massage therapist came by, but I cannot recall if Mom took the massage or not.
Wednesday: The RLC came for their weekly visit. The following is an edited account which they collaborated on:
We (Connie and Jean) found Norma reading a card/note from Phyllis Elliott. She was sitting at the table nearest her room, her usual place. When I asked her to, she read some aloud. She'd evidently been reading her newspaper, and folded it when she was done. A caregiver said she would put it in Norma's room.
We remarked on Norma's curly white hair. She looked good, with a pretty blue shirt and tan slacks.
Did not notice if stockings were on, but probably were, as she was wearing shoes.
Norma thought it would be nice if we could invite Phyllis to a book club meeting. Jean offered her house and asked who else we should invite. No ideas there. Somewhere along there Jean mentioned that it might be hard for Phyllis to come to Portland, as she's in Port Angeles. "No, she isn't."
We went on to another subject, and Norma said to Connie,"I like the manner of the comments you've been making (was there more?)." It was a thought-out, complete sentence. And Norma has always appreciated a well-composed thought. Connie said, "Thank you."
Norma was quite alert, had had a full breakfast, we believe and was up for a walk in the garden. She could see the sun was shining. Jean told her we would not need jackets if we stayed in the sun. (Didn't want to spend time looking for just the right jacket/sweater in her closet.)
So we took a brief tour of the garden areas, noticing flowers in bloom. Norma's walking was not as of old, but just a hint of a shuffle. Connie had her seat on her walker and chose a spot with shade. Norma and Jean sat on the wooden bench outside her room; Connie moved to be closer. We three discussed the beautiful blue sky and pretty white cumulus clouds. We agreed that it was a lovely day, but then Connie noticed gray clouds. We knew that rain was forecast for the afternoon and wanted to be home before it came. We were outside 15-20 minutes.
Lunch was being served, but Norma refused the bowl of soup Amparo brought. Amparo said she would heat it up later when Norma was ready to eat. Connie and Jean both said, “ No,” to soup, too. We all had a glass of apple juice, Norma's with the pill Elsa gave her. We kissed her goodbye, said we would see her again. It seemed Norma was about to leave with us, so we moved right along to the door.
It was almost 1 pm.
Norma was more alert than we've seen her lately. She is NOT following that decline, but we know it's a roller coaster.
Mom’s appetite seemed to be much healthier after they left. Sometimes it appears that having family or friends visit stimulates that hunger, or the will to eat. Who knows.
Thursday: Mom ate all three meals. Yes. That was 3. She participated in the activities with everyone else and was up most of the day.
Friday: Mom had a visit from the hospice nurse, and they chatted (although it’s really odd stating that she was holding conversations when this is a lost art with her, sadly).
Saturday: Mom, once again, ate all three meals. She was not a happy-go-lucky soul but continued in her confusion.
Sunday: Today Mom arose late. She wasn’t being very nice - especially to Leddy. She was refusing to eat, as well, so on my way I stopped and picked up a banana-strawberry milkshake for her - not completely aware that she had been eating so well on the two previous days.
When I arrived I was greeted by my eldest brother, who had arrived 20 minutes earlier, and was sitting in the dining room with the mater. Mom had eaten all her lunch, including the apple pie dessert. I gave her the milkshake, and she savored it - but didn’t finish.
We enjoyed a bit of conversation, he telling us about his trip up north to visit his daughter who had flown out from NYC, and the adventures they’d had with her siblings. Mom absorbed some of this, but her hearing doesn’t always catch on - perhaps we speak too rapidly, I don’t know, because Rosemary (one of Mom’s adversaries, who sits across from her at meals) had a similar problem with both my brother and me.
We took Mom outside to the garden where we attempted to identify plants, trees, shrubs, and flowers. It was good to see Mom walking and enjoying herself.
Soon, though, it was time, and she wanted to waggle into her room and recline. I handed her the milkshake, but she stated it wasn’t hers and must belong to someone else. I tried to remind her but discovered it was better to just leave it next to her so she could determine what to do with it.
We did find her watch - it miraculously found its way back to its regular haunt - next to her bed in the lacquered box. She put it on and admired it.
At some point in the week, I haven’t a clue when or who, Mom had her fingernails repainted. She has already made attempts to scratch it off on some, as she believes it makes them look more natural (That’s what you get when your mother never really believed in having manicures in the earlier stages of life). But she looked hale and hearty.
Her confusion is more obvious than before, and her observations need to be immediate, lest they wander to earlier conversations where she brings in elements of those as though it were a part of the present (She talked about my niece as though she had participated in today’s visit - but she had been a talking point of an earlier dialog).
So, with that being said, I’m so glad she is where she is and getting so much attention and help. While she’s hardly the cuddliest of mothers, she does have spunk and qualities for admiration.
In other words, she’s our mother.
Some like it cold
Some like it in the pot
Five days old……
There’s truly no accounting for taste; especially when one has dementia. For some odd reason, whenever my brother or I speak to Mom it just doesn’t process, most of the time. Who knows. But, whatever the case, Mom has been mentally going down. She ate most of the meals during the week, but then, today (Sunday) she wouldn’t eat until lunch. But, I’ll let you be the judge of her week - -
Monday: Mom was very confused. She refused to eat as well as come out of her room. Leddy tried to help her change, but she refused, as well. Finally, Leddy came back and convinced Mom to eat. Whew.
Tuesday: Mom, once again, refused to be changed - until Leddy allowed her to wear another pair of pants that she liked. The hospice nurse came and showered her, and Morina and Lea also helped her. She finally came out and ate lunch.
Later, she would attend her BINGO game, as this is something she quite enjoys.
Her massage therapist came by, but I cannot recall if Mom took the massage or not.
 |
| Mom looking spry and happy. |
Wednesday: The RLC came for their weekly visit. The following is an edited account which they collaborated on:
We (Connie and Jean) found Norma reading a card/note from Phyllis Elliott. She was sitting at the table nearest her room, her usual place. When I asked her to, she read some aloud. She'd evidently been reading her newspaper, and folded it when she was done. A caregiver said she would put it in Norma's room.
We remarked on Norma's curly white hair. She looked good, with a pretty blue shirt and tan slacks.
Did not notice if stockings were on, but probably were, as she was wearing shoes.
Norma thought it would be nice if we could invite Phyllis to a book club meeting. Jean offered her house and asked who else we should invite. No ideas there. Somewhere along there Jean mentioned that it might be hard for Phyllis to come to Portland, as she's in Port Angeles. "No, she isn't."
We went on to another subject, and Norma said to Connie,"I like the manner of the comments you've been making (was there more?)." It was a thought-out, complete sentence. And Norma has always appreciated a well-composed thought. Connie said, "Thank you."
Norma was quite alert, had had a full breakfast, we believe and was up for a walk in the garden. She could see the sun was shining. Jean told her we would not need jackets if we stayed in the sun. (Didn't want to spend time looking for just the right jacket/sweater in her closet.)
So we took a brief tour of the garden areas, noticing flowers in bloom. Norma's walking was not as of old, but just a hint of a shuffle. Connie had her seat on her walker and chose a spot with shade. Norma and Jean sat on the wooden bench outside her room; Connie moved to be closer. We three discussed the beautiful blue sky and pretty white cumulus clouds. We agreed that it was a lovely day, but then Connie noticed gray clouds. We knew that rain was forecast for the afternoon and wanted to be home before it came. We were outside 15-20 minutes.
Lunch was being served, but Norma refused the bowl of soup Amparo brought. Amparo said she would heat it up later when Norma was ready to eat. Connie and Jean both said, “ No,” to soup, too. We all had a glass of apple juice, Norma's with the pill Elsa gave her. We kissed her goodbye, said we would see her again. It seemed Norma was about to leave with us, so we moved right along to the door.
It was almost 1 pm.
Norma was more alert than we've seen her lately. She is NOT following that decline, but we know it's a roller coaster.
Mom’s appetite seemed to be much healthier after they left. Sometimes it appears that having family or friends visit stimulates that hunger, or the will to eat. Who knows.
Thursday: Mom ate all three meals. Yes. That was 3. She participated in the activities with everyone else and was up most of the day.
Friday: Mom had a visit from the hospice nurse, and they chatted (although it’s really odd stating that she was holding conversations when this is a lost art with her, sadly).
Saturday: Mom, once again, ate all three meals. She was not a happy-go-lucky soul but continued in her confusion.
Sunday: Today Mom arose late. She wasn’t being very nice - especially to Leddy. She was refusing to eat, as well, so on my way I stopped and picked up a banana-strawberry milkshake for her - not completely aware that she had been eating so well on the two previous days.
When I arrived I was greeted by my eldest brother, who had arrived 20 minutes earlier, and was sitting in the dining room with the mater. Mom had eaten all her lunch, including the apple pie dessert. I gave her the milkshake, and she savored it - but didn’t finish.
We enjoyed a bit of conversation, he telling us about his trip up north to visit his daughter who had flown out from NYC, and the adventures they’d had with her siblings. Mom absorbed some of this, but her hearing doesn’t always catch on - perhaps we speak too rapidly, I don’t know, because Rosemary (one of Mom’s adversaries, who sits across from her at meals) had a similar problem with both my brother and me.
We took Mom outside to the garden where we attempted to identify plants, trees, shrubs, and flowers. It was good to see Mom walking and enjoying herself.
Soon, though, it was time, and she wanted to waggle into her room and recline. I handed her the milkshake, but she stated it wasn’t hers and must belong to someone else. I tried to remind her but discovered it was better to just leave it next to her so she could determine what to do with it.
We did find her watch - it miraculously found its way back to its regular haunt - next to her bed in the lacquered box. She put it on and admired it.
At some point in the week, I haven’t a clue when or who, Mom had her fingernails repainted. She has already made attempts to scratch it off on some, as she believes it makes them look more natural (That’s what you get when your mother never really believed in having manicures in the earlier stages of life). But she looked hale and hearty.
Her confusion is more obvious than before, and her observations need to be immediate, lest they wander to earlier conversations where she brings in elements of those as though it were a part of the present (She talked about my niece as though she had participated in today’s visit - but she had been a talking point of an earlier dialog).
So, with that being said, I’m so glad she is where she is and getting so much attention and help. While she’s hardly the cuddliest of mothers, she does have spunk and qualities for admiration.
In other words, she’s our mother.
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