A Day of Rest

 


 "And on the seventh day God ended His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. "

This is how we know that God is GOD and not human.  Or at least not a human with elderly parents or children.  There is no rest for us.

While I use the above as a joke; it is true that yesterday, the "day of rest" was anything but.  I'm not complaining (well, not MUCH) and I was well aware as I went into the weekend that it was going to be exhausting.   I tried to prepare myself as much as possible and focus on being positive and patient.  (Patience is a strength I have not had in the past, but I'm working on it and to give myself a pat on the bat, I think I'm doing much better!)

After getting in a short(ish) walk (despite all the stressors around me I'm trying to keep the morning walks going as we have finally started to get warm weather), I headed for the NJ shore.  The warm weekends are not the time to be on the GSP; if you want to (try to) avoid traffic, you need to be up early (or really late) So I was heading south just a little after seven.  I had to stop at the Shoprite to pick up two things for my dad (Nothing says Father's Day like lobster bisque and sticky buns).  Because it was Sunday (even though it was just after 8), the place was crazy.  (The Wall Township Shoprite is an amazing store; so many offerings!  I can see why it is almost always busy.  My grocery bills would go through the roof if I live closer because I would be tempted to buy more and more!)  Even waiting in line for a self-service kiosk, I managed to get in and out pretty quickly and even with a run into the Point Pleasant Dunkin (where they got my coffee order wrong and I didn't realize it until I was at my parents' house), I still reached my destination just after 8:30.

I was able to spend some time with my dad and pay some of my mom's bills (thank goodness I set up an online account that I could access) before he went to "virch" (virtual church), and I headed to the hospital to see my mom.

Although she appeared to be sleeping, she woke up quickly and had obviously eaten a little breakfast.  (This is an ongoing problem.  She doesn't like the food, which has thickener in it to help her swallow it and does not eat enough.)  She was happy to see me and we had quite a good visit.  Although she is not the person she was just a few weeks ago, she was quite lucid.  When I asked her about a "story" she promised to tell me the day before (a challenge to herself to see if she could remember), she did tell me.  Furthermore, it made sense in the context of WHY she wanted to tell me the story; just the day before she had brought up the fact that Monday was a "new" holiday (Juneteenth fell on a Sunday; making the Federal holiday Monday).  I explained what the holiday was about and the story she shared with me was about a family that her father knew in college with an African American Nanny.  So I could see the connection between the holiday and the story AND she remembered it all.  I felt that this was quite encouraging.  I continue to try to be as positive as I can with her and don't focus on the hospital, but on memories that we share and tales about my son (which she always loves).

By noontime she was getting tired, so I headed back to their house. (Stopping at a crowded Wawa to pick up snack/lunch for myself.  You know it's summer when you can't find a place in the Wawa parking lot!) I filled my dad in with my mother's progress.  I reinforced that when she comes home (we are not yet sure if she will be able to get into a rehab facility; her caloric intake might be too low for them to accept her) we need to be patient and positive.  She needs reassurance, not correction.  At least that's how I have seen that she does better.  I hope that will be the case when she comes home.

After my dad had lunch, I headed back to the hospital.  It was a rough afternoon for my mom.  The hospital had a fire drill during which my mom had to use a bed pain, which (understandably) caused anxiety and distress.  To pat myself on the back again, I redirected her thoughts during "clean up" by telling her about the lone sailboat I had seen on the bay during my drive over that afternoon.  How I knew it was a Laser and not a Laser Radial and definitely not a Sunfish, Sandpiper, Sanderling or M Scow.  Just as I had gotten her somewhat calmed; the respiratory therapist came in for a treatment that did not go well.  (Nor did the therapist seem to listen to her concerns, so I had to step in, and she didn't really listen to me either.)  My mother was concerned about me getting home.  (She knows how crazy the GSP is on a weekend.)  I kept postponing leaving until she was calmer, but my not leaving was making her anxious.  It was a vicious cycle.

I did leave later than I would have liked and I did hit traffic on the way home.  During my drive my dad called to tell me that my mom had called him to let him know that they were moving her to a room on the 4th floor.  A move that they did make, but until the evening, which I am sure caused anxiety for my mom.

I arrived home 10 hours after I left.  Certainly, not a day of rest, but a day that was necessary.  I needed to see my father; it was after all Father's Day.  I needed him to see me as I filled him in with news of my mom.  I needed him to hear that she may not be able to go to rehab; that she may come directly home.  If that is the case, I needed him to know that I was working on getting her on hospice care.  Most importantly, I needed to stress to him and to the live in caregiver, that when mom gets home, she needs to be treated with care and respect.  Calm is what is needed in the house.  (Easier said than done.)

I saw and did my best to calm my mom.  I think I am good at soothing her and directing her attention to happier times and telling stories that make her smile.  As I write this (and I'm pretty drained, but it's a new work week so....), she has been in the hospital for 15 days.  She's been in at least 4 different rooms and dealt with numerous doctors, nurses, technicians, etc.  She has dementia.  She is confused.  But she is still HER.  Yes, she is overwhelmed with emotion; who wouldn't be?  She is aware that something is not right in her brain and it is frustrating and frightening for her.  (As it would be for anyone.) I will give up any "day of rest" to be with her and try to make her day a little stressful.  While I know I need to take care of myself (and I am so grateful to my husband who has always supported me emotionally, but has now gone above and beyond), for now, whenever or whatever my mom needs to be (somewhat) comfortable, I'm going to do my best to do it.  Because that is who I am and that is what I have learned from my mom.

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