Familiar Routines
Aug 25 2012 in Blogs, Caring for Parents and Kids, Jo's Blog by Jo
After a summer like this one, thinking of getting a bumper sticker on my car, “my other vehicle is an ambulance”
I’ve been down this road before.
Near the beginning of the shift you check your loved one, you check in with the nurses, hear the report from the previous shift, get the results of any tests completed, find out the Dr’s plan for the coming shift, make sure they have your instructions and your contact info in case of an emergency in your absence, check your loved one again, leave to run errands, stop by to check in several times during the shift, near the beginning of the next shift you check your loved one, you check in with the nurses…
Dad has a Urinary Tract Infection and is on antibiotics to treat. It’s made some difference but the infection is lingering. Still not eating or drinking. Largely unresponsive. I squeeze his hand and talk to him during my visits. Since his eyes remain closed I make sure he can at least feel me present.
When I visited Mom last night at her bedtime, she thanked me several times for coming by, told me I should go to bed soon too… and then told me I had better make her a good breakfast in the morning. Mom hasn’t changed.
There is no overt indicator that Mom has any awareness that Dad is absent but I think I can pick up a subtle difference in her.
My plan tomorrow is to bring Mom from the nursing home to the hospital to see Dad. I don’t know the pace of Dad’s journey but I’ve learned from the deaths of my wife and brother the importance and timing of final visits. It is time for Mom to visit Dad.
Monday will include the “feeding tube” conversation with the Dr and I plan to contact hospice. There will be a couple of other Dr calls planned for both Dad and my daughter. The new school year starts for my son on Monday. Monday is going to be fun.
Took my son to get a haircut for school and my daughter and I went to a movie. See, we do normal stuff too.
Kathy said on August 26, 2012
Jo,
Your poor mind must feel like it’s in a blender.
I was saddened to read about your father’s decline and unresponsiveness.
I think they can still hear us and I can only relate that thought to my own experience of having surgery once and coming out of anesthesia, I could hear those around me talking but I couldn’t move or respond to them. It’s good you’re talking and holding his hand.
I hope your mother does well with the visit.
Whatever you decide about the feeding tube I’m sure you will follow your heart and I hope your father expressed his wishes about such things so you will feel like you aren’t having to carry the decision alone.
How is your daughter doing, by the way?
Keeping all of you in my daily prayers.
Jo said on August 26, 2012
Daughter is fine. She’s sore but that’s to be expected when you bounce down a flight of stairs. Thanks for the prayers and thoughts.
Denise said on August 26, 2012
Hi Jo–Thinking of all of you today. I wish much, much peace and comfort. And, please know that, because we think the world of you, we surround you in your world.
Thanks for keeping us posted. When you can, let us know…
ejourneys said on August 26, 2012
Jo, when a friend of mine was in hospice and in a coma, she became distinctly less agitated when I held her hand. Even though agitation was responsiveness of a sort, she was still unconscious. I do believe people who are unresponsive are still aware of presence and care.
I see you as a bridge of love between your Mom and Dad, connecting them even as they are physically apart. I am keeping you all in my thoughts and prayers.
I love that in the midst of everything, you and your children could enjoy the normality of a haircut and a movie. Am very glad your daughter is back on her feet. Wishing you strength and stamina — added to peace and comfort — for what lies ahead.