Posts Tagged 'Mom'

Dementia And Dehydration, The Double D’s

For months it’s been one thing or another. I have so much to tell you but I have not had the energy to sit and write. But here it goes my entries will not be in order of their occurrence they will be more of a hit and miss of what I am thinking about at the time.

For the last five years I have been living my life constantly yelling. My mother tells everyone; “I’ve never liked to eat, my mother would sit next to me and yell to get me to eat.”

My mother lives constantly on the verge of malnutrition and dehydration. In the last four years she has gone by ambulance to the hospital four times, one time last year she was so dehydrated she almost didn’t make it. So I constantly yell at her to drink.

Last August I knew my mother either had a bladder infection or was becoming dehydrated she had a horrible body odor. Every time I would try to get her to drink it would end like this;

“Mom, you need to drink more.” “I’m not thirsty.” “I know you’re not thirsty, but you need to drink.” “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do.” “Mom, your diapers have a strong ammonia smell.” “I don’t smell anything. You must be smelling your own dirty butt”

I took her to the doctor’s and sure enough she had a bladder infection. She also lost 7 pounds in the last for months. When they told us she had an infection I look at my mom and said,” I knew you were sick just from the odor” without skipping a beat my mom looked at the nurse and said;

“My daughter knew I was sick because she’s a witch.” “What did you say?” “You’re a witch.” “Oh witch, I thought you said something else.”

So now I’m getting to what I want to write about, the last six days.

Okay, Saturday October 15th and Sunday the 16th, mom’s diapers again had the odor of straight ammonia, she was refusing to drink more fluids. I’m thinking dehydration. When I would say something to her it would go back to the same song and dance. I made a decision to take her to the doctors on Monday or Tuesday if she was still refusing to drink.

Monday the 17th, mom got up around 9:30.

“Mom, take a bath before it gets too late.” “Why I’m not going anywhere.” “That’s not the point you’ve been in the same diaper all night and if it gets any later you’ll be getting lunch instead of breakfast.” “I’ll take a bath and eat when I’m ready just worry about your own fat butt.”

Now, she knows it bothers me when she talks about my being heavy. Heck I know I’m big but everyday for whatever reason she brings it up. She must truly have dementia because a sane person wouldn’t be making those kinds of comments to the person who makes their food.

By the time she’s ready for breakfast its lunch time so I make her a half of turkey sandwich with swiss cheese, a bowl of soup and a few pieces of cantaloupe and watermelon. She sits down and starts to complain that it was too much food. I let her know if she kept complaining I would give her the other half of the sandwich. I walked into the den to finish my crossword puzzle.

It was about two maybe three minutes and I heard my mother snoring. “Mom wake up, mom are you sleeping, wake up” Nothing so me and my fat butt get up, I touched her shoulder nothing then I notice she had thrown up and had passed out. She was breathing but making a sound between gurgling and snoring.

“911, is this a medical emergency?” “Yes my mother was eating and passed out, I need help.” “Is she breathing? How old is she? The address and number you’re calling from?”

Finally after all the questions were answered, I called my husband and kids everyone showed up the same time as the paramedics. My husband and son stayed to clean the mess and close up the house, Dana drove ahead to the hospital and I went in the ambulance with my mom.

First before I go any further let me tell you about the ambulance. Why are all emergency vehicles so high off the ground? This was my fourth time having to call for paramedics and an ambulance to my mom’s house, I now feel like I have a close enough relationship with the dispatcher that when they see my mom’s address pop up to send a truck with a bucket to help lift my big behind into the cab of the ambulance. It’s embarrassing I felt like a Weeble (you know the roly-poly characters).

We arrive at the hospital the paramedics had already cut open my mom’s favorite dress. The nurses take her torn dress and sweater all the way off and were going to hand them to me. Hell no! I wasn’t even going to touch the bag. The look on my face let them know it was trash time.

Dana came to sit with me, lab work, x-rays, a CT scan all showed how healthy my mom was, the diagnosis was dehydration. They plumped her up with fluids and we ignored her requests for a Babe Ruth bar. The hospital would have released her but her insurance Kaiser has a policy if a patients loses consciousness they stay overnight for observation.

When the ambulance came to transport my mom to Kaiser, Dana drove me home so I could pick up my car. Now I haven’t eaten anything all day. I down a banana and three cookies and then Paul drove me to the hospital.

When I walked into the room my mom was stuffing her face with Fig Newton’s, she feeling good and wanted to know who came with me to see her and who I called. I let her know everyone knew she was in the hospital and no one came because she wasn’t ill, she was there because she was to stubborn to drink water. I told her I’ve had it. I explained the paramedics, the ambulance, doctors and nurses had more seriously ill patients that they needed to tend to, also her taking space in the hospital is one less bed available for someone else more seriously ill. I was so upset and exhausted I left.

Late that night and early the next morning I received a call from the attending doctor at Kaiser, he wanted to let me know my mom was doing well and would be released around noon.

I got there at twelve thirty. When I walked into her room my mom immediately started asking me if anyone came with me to see her in the hospital. I said no because she wasn’t sick just too lazy to drink fluids. I started to get her ready to go when the nurse came in. She was letting me know my mom didn’t want to eat breakfast but she managed to get her to eat some cereal. Lunch was delivered and she needed to try and eat something. My mom flatly refused saying she would eat at home. Knowing that I would have to continue the battle at home I let my mom know if she didn’t eat she wouldn’t be going home. She began eating.

When I pulled the car up to the hospital patient loading zone, the young man who was helping my mom into the car said; “Have a wonderful day” my mom replied “I’m on the way out.” The young man didn’t know what to say, my mom made it seem like she was going home to die.

I stepped on the gas and looked at her and said;

“So where are we going? Dancing? Lunch? On a trip? Where?” “Aren’t we were going home?” “I thought we were until you told that young man you were on the way out. You’re not dying I know this because the doctors in two hospitals just examined you, the only thing wrong with you is your need for attention.”

When we got home;

“Mom, you need to take a shower you had thrown up and haven’t had a shower in two days.” “Don’t worry about me, worry about yourself.” “Mom take a shower.” “Shut up fat ass!”

Okay this time I picked up the phone, should I call the county morgue or my brother? I ended up calling my brother because I knew his number. I put the call on speaker and asked my mother to repeat what she called me and she did. Well, my brother let her know he wasn’t happy and was coming over.

Intervention (this entry is so long maybe it should be an Intermission).

Since I have tried in the past with the Scared Straight approach having only two bad cops wasn’t working. But now were doing Beyond Scared Straight, oh yeah everyone is on board.

The next day my brother came over, he had my back; even without a script he was remarkable. (Now remember in my last entry I had placed my mom in a really nice assisted living facility for a week, so I had to change it up).

I started to explain that I could not afford to put mom into the nice facility. The cost was $150.00 a day when I placed her in for a week of respite care. Placement for long term would be a little more as she needs assistance bathing, medications and walking to and from the dining room. Now keep in mind this conversation is in front of my mom. Without a dress rehearsal this is how it went down between my brother and me in front of my mom.

“I’m going to be honest with you I can’t ask my husband to do any more than what we’ve done its going to cost two thousand more a month to put mom into a home. Can you pay it?” “Two thousand no way, I’m retired.” “Well, if I can come up with half and I don’t think I can would you be able to pitch in one thousand?” “No, right now it would be tough.” “I know that’s how it is with everyone, I do know that there’s facilities that take only SSI and pensions that don’t have the extra frills but it’s doable.” “Sounds good.”

I told my mom I could no longer take care of her, I was done until I sold the house she was going to the cheaper home, the one where she would have to share a room with one to four other woman, the one where the meals would be simple, like bologna or ham sandwiches for lunch and casserole’s for dinner. Her eyes were bigger now, she understood.

My brother also confronted my mom with his disappointment with the way she talks to me. Surprise!

What a good day this was becoming. My aunt even showed up unexpectedly, without clueing her in about us taking a firm stance in Spanish she asked;

“Eva, how are you doing?” “Not good.” “No, Eva say you’re doing fine” “Fine.”

She even let my mom know she needed to do better so she could remain home. Yes today is a good day, I feel like the troops are with me.

Now on the fourth day, Kaiser sent a very nice young girl to evaluate my mother for Palliative Care. The only ailments my mother has is dementia and RA, since she was not in the final stages of life she did not qualify for assistance.

The only thing my mom understood is that this woman was from Kaiser, she asked me what she wanted. I explained she came to see if she could help, but since she didn’t have a medical condition and it was just that she’s too stubborn to eat and drink a facility might be the answer.

Well, that night no problems, this morning I woke her, gave her breakfast, she showered no problems. My brother just called, he remarked I sounded better, and I’m actually feeling better. Mom’s not sleeping she’s watching TV quietly in her room, when she heard the phone she came out to see who called; I said my brother and he asked if I found a home for you yet.

If I can keep it fresh in her mind, I do believe it will be a good day. Peace.

I’m Back

I haven’t had a real bout of depression since my post back in November 2008 titled Depression. Every November it seems like I struggle around my dad’s birthday then add the holidays, while my grief is better I just miss him terribly.

This time however my depression was different, it lasted longer.

Taking care of my aunt for the last two years had started to take a toll on me. I could no longer do the 150 miles round trip two to three times a week to deal with her issues. Every day she was either upset, arguing with someone, dying or depressed. I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I now recognize I had become codependent. I found myself adapting or ignoring her behaviors which allowed me to be involved in fewer of her conflicts.

Then you toss in my mom. I felt like there was a contract out on me and they were the hit men.

I started experiencing anxiety and a rapid heartbeat. I was stressed and on the verge of tears all the time. My family was in protect mode.

But, like I said this time was different, I realized I needed to change. I started to prioritize everything that I was dealing with. I needed to make a decision what I could deal with. Changes had to be made.

I am no longer taking care of my aunt, I can no longer ride an emotional roller coaster and deal with someone’s problems if that person is not willing to see themselves and meet me halfway. While I miss her I realize she needs to seek help, I cannot do it for her. With just this one change in the last six months I have not had a problem with anxiety attacks or rapid heartbeat.

In May I placed my mom in respite care of eight days. EIGHT DAYS of not being responsible for meals, exercise, bathing, incontinence, EIGHT DAYS of not hearing the same questions a zillion times, and the biggie EIGHT DAYS of not being insulted. I called that one week Cinco de Mayo, because it gave this Mexican independence.

I would like to say my husband and I enjoyed those eight days catching up with friends; unfortunately it was spent redoing my mom’s bedroom. We redid her ceiling; crown molding, painting, hung new pictures, new bedspread the works. When she came home she was surprised and happy, her happiness lasted two days.

It’s still rough, she still makes me cry, but when she was gone I did miss her.

I have learned the meaning of “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” I am now being selective agreeing only to take on responsibilities that I know I can handle.

I’m back and have a lot to tell you about, my white haired stalker, my two granddaughters, my husband, kids, Christmas…

I will post soon and try to post every few days, so hold on the rides about to begin…..

Go Ahead Make My Day

Remember the scene in Sudden Impact when Harry Callahan (played by Clint Eastwood) confronts a robber who’s holding a waitress hostage with a gun to her head, instead of backing off, Clint puts his gun into the guys face and says, “Go ahead make my day.”

They must be planning to do a sequel and my mom is practicing for the lead. For the last two days, minus a cigar hanging out of her mouth, she’s been doing her impression of Clint.

I was in the kitchen talking on speaker phone with my daughter Dana today at 11:45 when my mom came out;

“I’m not eating breakfast today”
“What do you mean your not eating breakfast?”
“I had Ensure this morning and that was my breakfast.”
“You had Ensure, before you showered, so you wouldn’t be in a hot shower with an empty stomach.”
“I’m not eating breakfast.”
“Okay, then I’ll make lunch.”
“I’m not eating.”

Now keep in mind my mother only eats a small breakfast and an even smaller lunch that’s it, only two meals a day and dessert, and now she’s telling me no breakfast.

So, I placed her breakfast on the table and said;

“Here’s your breakfast, if you don’t eat it, I’m making you lunch and then later I’ll make you dinner.”

The thought of actually eating two meals was too much for her, as I picked up the phone and slid out the dining room chair my mom yelled;

“Why did you throw the chair at me?”

Now keep in mind my mom’s dining room set is old and made of solid wood, the chairs all have arms and weigh about twenty pounds.

“What!”
“Why did you throw the chair?”
“I didn’t throw the chair I slid it out for you.”
“Well, why don’t you just hit me?”
“Why, would I hit you?”
“Just hit me.”

I started talking with Dana and said this is what it’s been like the last two days; she keeps telling me to hit her. I don’t know what’s going in her mind. Maybe she wants me to audition for Jerry Springer.

I find myself yelling, just to get the simplest things through to her, and there she is all 110 pounds in my face saying “hit me, hit me.”

I have to see the humor in everything she does, I have to remember she’s not all there and I have to remind myself the little old piñata yelling, hit me, hit me, doesn’t have enough candy for this Mexican to pick up a bat….

Aloha From The Mainland

Were back from Hawaii, and one week just wasn’t enough. I had such a wonderful time and have so much to say, lets start with the plane ride.

We arrived at LAX at 7:30am, not to many people; we were second in line at the check in counter. Our first contact was Al;

“Do you have your tickets?”
“I have this.”
“Is it your tickets?”
“It’s a print out of our information.”
“Is it your ticket?”

Okay this isn’t going to be easy this Hawaiian wants an answer and this Mexican doesn’t know the answer.

“Look, I’m a newbie we usually travel with our kids I don’t know if I have our tickets I have this paper.”

Finally he cracks a smile and takes my paper no it wasn’t our tickets but he’ll help us and check us all the way through.

Then it happened the first of four interruptions. She was a small built woman maybe one hundred pounds. She looked like her hair hadn’t been washed in days, she was wearing tan jeans with a black belt that had a buckle wider than she was. No joke she was so skinny her belt hung down from the buckle at least ten inches. Her eyes were red and she reeked of liquor.

She walked up to the counter with her good friend, Jack Daniels yes a 1.75 liter of Tennessee whiskey, totally ignoring us started talking to our agent Al.

“Can I carry this on the plane?”
“No, it has to be in your luggage.”
“My luggage is already checked through.”
“Miss, I’m helping these people, you need to wait.”
She walked away only to return.

“Can I take this on in a bag?”
“Miss, it needs to be checked in.”
“It’s a gift for my dad.”
“Miss I need to finish with these people before I can help you.”

Al was checking our ids, when again she returned.

“Do you have a bag?”
“Miss you have to wait.”

He’s handing us our tickets when she comes back, only now the bottle is one third gone and she leaves it on the counter.

We walked up to security only to find out in the confusion of answering that woman’s questions that Al made an error on our tickets so leaving me at security Paul went back to get our boarding passes corrected.

Finally, on the plane who is sitting up ahead of us, yes its our friend, she must have thought she was an employee for the airlines because she was in the flight attendants area most of the time in the air. I counted seven cokes, two cups of tea, four cups of coffee, three snack bags and the in-flight meal. Let’s not forget her numerous trips to the bathroom.

However, it made me forget that I hate to fly.

Our interisland flights and our flight home were a breeze.

The differences between United Airlines and Hawaiian were huge. On United you get a free snack and the opportunity to purchase a meal and with Hawaiian, the meal along with the snack is free. The seats on Hawaiian are more comfortable and it’s seemed like we had more leg room and even though we weren’t on a wide body this wide body could tell the difference.

So, we are planning to go back to Hawaii next year for a longer time, Me, Paul and Jack Daniel’s.

What Would You Do If You Were Ridiculously Wealthy?

When Paul and I were working we would always play lotto, but since we retired for some reason or another we stopped. While we no longer had a two income family it wasn’t that there was a lack of funds we just stopped. Maybe laziness, no one made an effort to run out and buy the tickets.

Well now there are quite a few games Mega Millions, Super Lotto, Fantasy 5, Daily Derby and a whole bunch of scratchers. You could go broke if you played every game but on April 27th, I heard the jackpot was $166 million, okay I’m lazy but not that lazy, I bought ten dollars worth.

In my mind I had it all planned out, if I won the biggie. It would be a shared winning with my kids and everyone that’s special to me would be a winner, everyone from my BFF to by BFF cousin was on my list. (For legal reasons I am not able to print out who or what was on that list). Yes, I’m taking this seriously.

Well, I didn’t win. Not even two dollars, nothing, nada, zilch.

On the 30th, the jackpot was 224 million. Paul went out and bought another ten. I asked him if he still had his newspaper clippings of people he had read about over the years that if we ever able to we would help. Yes, he did. He’s such a sweet guy, I had to make a mental note to add them to my list.

Again zero, naught, zip.

Now the jackpot is 266 million. When I heard this I had to lay down with a cold cloth, decisions so many decisions to make. I really love my life, what changes would I personally make. Let’s see, Paul and I designed and built our dream house twenty five years ago, but now older and fatter maybe a one story home. Another thing I’d do is make Easy Spirit remake my favorite shoes that they discontinued. Lastly, I would carry enough pocket change so if I saw something I wanted I could just get it. But really nothing else, even though my cars are ten years old, they look and run great so I probably wouldn’t even make changes there.

Stop, hold the presses, one thing I’d do is make a private wing on my home for my mom like a granny house with private living quarters separated from the main house by a hallway, or barbed wire maybe a sharp shooter or two, nothing real elaborate.

Yes, I need to win, but not the biggie just enough so I can get my last wish because in the long run money doesn’t make you truly happy but peace and quiet does.

Ill Fitting Shoes And Old People

Okay I haven’t written in some time because of stress, nothing has changed no real big problems only me just worrying about all the little issues that have been cropping up. So I may do a few shorter entries to catch up.

I haven’t written about my mom lately she’s been flying below my radar just a few instances of her diving into my sights for a hit now and then. But unfortunately all good things have to come to an end.

I’ve written in the past about my mom and weight issues, she has always been petite. I have always been as they say; big boned, thick, chunky, chubby or fat and this not only bothers her, it embarrasses her and lately she’s been coming up with ways to remind me I’m heavy.

I basically buy all her clothes; she in the past would go out shopping with my aunt Socorro. Now Socorro is very active and always looks nice so my mom would pick out clothes like hers, clothes that she would never wear, so with tags still on they just hang in her closet.

I buy dresses that are mid calf, tank top or short sleeved in earth tones, she has dressy to casual even Hawaiian prints, in extra small or petite small. She always wears a solid colored matching sweater. As far as shoes she wears slippers all day, and is now down to two pairs of Easy Spirit shoes that no longer fit.

So I’ve been shopping. I have ordered/bought shoes for her but the princess is never happy. Once size is to big the next one down to small. I’m frustrated it’s not like she’s going to dance or run a marathon, when we go anywhere that would involve her wearing shoes she’s in a wheelchair. I’m about ready to paint her feet black to give the illusion she’s wearing shoes.

Today Paul went out shopping and bought her a pair of size six, light weight MaryJane Danskin shoes, they are really cute. He gets a big Atta Boy!

“Mom, look Paul bought you a pair of shoes.”
“I don’t need him to buy me shoes.”
“Mom, as simple thank you would be nice.”
“Will they fit? They look big. What size are they?”
“There size six.”
“Size six, are you sure I wear a six, my feet are small and dainty.”
“You wear size six, like a million other people.”
“I’m not saying I have smaller feet than other people, but I am petite.”

So I put them on and she’s smiling.

“Nancy, you should get a pair, do they make them in your size?”
“I’m sure they do.”
“What size shoe do you wear?”
“I dunno.”
“You know what size you wear, what size is it?”
“Don’t worry mom I don’t need a pair their not my style.”

Here it comes;

Nancy, I know you have big feet, you’re big all over, what size do you wear?”

Now how stupid do you think I am, there’s no way in hell I’m going to say nine and half or ten. I know what will happen, she’ll say something hurtful like I didn’t even know women could have such big feet or do they make women’s shoes that large.

I just smile.

“Why won’t you tell me what size you wear, I won’t say anything.”
“Six and a half.”

Just A Little Soap, Just A little Water

Ever since my mom’s doctor told her she needed to go to an assisted living facility my mom’s disposition has changed. It’s been about six weeks since she’s called me or my husband a name. She has had a few mini tantrums but the full blown ones have stopped.
Every once in awhile I remind her it’s me keeping her home, if she feels she can longer behave she’s just a moment away from being taken to “the home”. Life has been good, not perfect but good.

Well, I’ve been doing the best not to control everything, she doesn’t like is to be told when things need to be done or for me to do something before she thinks it should be done.

My mom doesn’t use the tub/shower in her bathroom she prefers to use the stall shower in the extra bathroom, so her tub has become her personal hamper.

Well, the other day I couldn’t stand it any longer she has a few robes but tends to favor two in particular the green robe has been in the tub for over a month so everyday she’s been wearing the mauve one. This morning her robe looked like she’d been hit in the chest with a shotgun blast or had a horrible nose bleed, I almost called CSI to have forensics done to see who blood it was. It was splattered all down the front of her robe; it couldn’t be her blood no one could lose that much and still be walking. I watched her as she sat down to have her (two) Ensures. There it was the answer, I saw her transfer the straw from the first bottle to the second she splattered Ensure everywhere; the chocolate on the mauve gave the appearance of blood. I usually say nothing and just wait until she’s ready for me to do her wash today was different her robe was filthy.

“Mom, what’s all over your robe?”
“Stains.”
“Mom, that’s not stains it’s your Ensure we need to wash your robe.”
“We don’t need to do anything; my robe is clean their stains.”
“Mom, you’ve been wearing that robe for over a month, it’s dirty.”
“It’s not dirty, it stained. I wouldn’t be wearing it if was dirty.”
“Whatever, lets wash it with the green one.”
“Wash your own clothes; you’re the one that’s dirty.”

So she draped her robe over her dresser to wear later, I picked it up along with the green one to wash and guess who following me down the hall yaking away.

“Where are you taking my robes?”
“To the wash.”
“Their not dirty, there stained, and you don’t know how to wash anyway.”
“Mom, calm down I’m putting your robes into the biohazard unit adding soap and water, if their stains they’ll be fresher stains and if their just dirty they’ll come out like new.”
“You can’t tell a stain from dirty, you’ll see I’m right.”

“Mom, here’s your robes.”
“They were stains, right?”
“No mom, they were dirty.”
“They weren’t dirty.”
“Your right they were filthy.”
“You’re filthy,”

Knowing that this would continue back and forth I turned to leave, and guess who was just a few steps behind.

“They were stains, what did you put on them,”
“Water and soap.”
“What else?”
“Nothing else water and soap.”
“No you did something else what was it?”
“Well I did have help; it was either a stain angel or a real pretty bio hazard tech that had wings.”
“Real funny.”


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