Showing posts with label hospice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hospice. Show all posts

10/30/11

The State of Things

Thursday evening I met the hospice volunteer at CB, who can only come on weeknights or weekends - because she has a full time job. 
If you're thinking I had some guilt when she told me this - you are correct.

But seriously, it has to be easier when it isn't your parent shaking, drooling, and saying "hey!" every five seconds. A veritable walk in the f&*#ing park.

Anyway, the girl we'll call Erin was lovely. Mom seemed to like her, called her darling.
Erin asked what Mom liked to do. I was thinking she was pretty much looking at it [Mom sitting on the couch holding my hand]. She can't read anymore, but might enjoy being read to; not sure she tracks TV. There's no conversation to speak of. Unless you count "hey!".

Bought this at Whole Foods (not just for brisket anymore!) and brought it over:

It attaches to baby's crib and plays four different sounds, (heartbeat, rain, ocean, and whale song), to help sleep. Mom used to have a bunch of those type of CD's and I thought it might be soothing.

She asked if it was dead. (Eyes closed?) 
When the ocean sound was played for her she said, "Weather." (thought it was rain?)

She seemed restless, wanted to walk, then sit down, then walk. Her legs were swollen and hard as a rock. The tremor in her right hand is still there. She kept saying she was cold, but her hands were warm. I wonder if the shaking from the tremor makes her think she's cold.

During one of our little walkabouts, a tall gentleman was sitting in the dining room, (see The Supper Club), with his legs stretched out into the hallway. Mom said "I'm old!" as we came upon him. This is apparently elder code for "Hey, I'm walking here!", since he pulled his legs in.

Road sign in Newcastle, Northern Ireland

Mom said "Grandma" when we stopped by the finch cage in the entryway. I asked her if she was seeing dead people (because I'm a smart ass), she said no.

Granny did, in the last year. She wanted us to get dogs out of the room that weren't there and sometimes all sorts of dead folks - mothers, brothers - were hanging out with us. 
She also thought she was married to her doctor and my mother had had twins with someone other than my [dead] father.
Oh, and she had peach cobbler with President Bush right over there. 

I called the hospice nurse about Mom's legs and she sent this email:
Saw ______ today and spoke to Dr M. about the edema in her legs. There is definitely a fluid shift, but she also has an issue with hypostatic hypotension, which is when she stands up her b/p drops, then slowly resumes to normal. But because of this we hesitate to increase her Lasix as this can increase the drop in her b/p.
We can however shift the fluid back into her system by utilizing edema wraps. We will wrap her legs with kerlix (to assure they stay dry) and cover the kerlix with a layer of coban a self adhesive product similar to ace bandages except they mold to the pts legs and do not slip.
These will be changed 2 x week and as needed by hospice staff and the expense is incurred by hospice.
When the edema resolves we can try changing to TED hose but if they are not effective we will continue with the edema wrap indefinitely. The edema is related to her heart failure and may be an ongoing issue at this point.


So there you have it.



10/14/11

Update

Soooooo...
Mom came home from UNC hospital Wednesday night; hospital bed was in place at CB.

She is very weak, but being in bed for five days will knock the wind out of anyone's sails I'm thinking. Then there's the pneumonia and her heart only pumping at 15% of its capacity. Last night she could barely walk two or three steps without having to rest.

(Let me interject that I want to drink a lot of wine. Right now. And eat much cake. But I'm not.)

This morning I signed her care over to hospice. We want for her never to go back to the hospital, for her to be comfortable with no invasive radical treatment efforts.

Don't break out the sack cloth and ashes though - she's not there yet. Plus this woman comes from a long line of death bed vigil bouncer backers.

They ordered oxygen, that will make her more comfortable. (I had asthma as a child and there is barely anything worse than struggling to breathe.)

Hospice pays for most of her meds, any equipment (oxygen, wheelchairs, hospital beds, etc.), and supplies (Depends), she needs. They bathe her and wash her hair. Her CNA makes body lotion for all her patients. (That just about killed me with kindness.) They will come as often as they need - the sicker she is, the more often they come. We're starting off with three days a week.

Last night I sat next to her as she ate her pie. Watched the woman across the table scrape her robe with her butter knife as she hummed constantly.

I don't think anything has hit me yet. I'm a fall-apart-later kinda gal. I think.

"Hope In The Air"

There is a man that I know,
seventeen years, he never spoke.
Guessed he had nothing to say,
he opened his mouth on Judgement Day.

I listened with all of my might,
but was scared by the look in his eyes.
Like he'd already lost the fight,
and there was no hope ever in sight.

No hope in the air,
no hope in the water,
not even for me,
your last serving daughter.

Why fear death, be scared of living,
our hearts are small and ever thinning.
There is no hope ever of winning,
oh, why fear death, be scared of living.

I have seen men provoked,
and I have seen lives revoked,
and I looked at my life and choked.
From there no more ever I spoke.

I can't give up that quick.
My life is a candle and a wick.
You can put it out but you can't break it down,
in the end we are waiting to be lit.



There's hope in the air,
there's hope in the water,
but sadly not me,
your last serving daughter.

A friend is a friend forever,
and a good one will never leave, never.
But you've have never been south of what blows off your mouth,
you will never understand, ever.

You speak minds handed down to you,
by the lies handed down by your truth,
and your angels will dance at your will,
will mask your scrambling youth.

I forgave you your short comings,
and ignored your childish behaviour.
Laid a kiss on your head,
and before I left said, "stay away from fleeting failure".

There's hope in the air,
there's hope in the water,
but sadly not me,
your last serving daughter.

Pick up your rope Lord, sling it to me,
if we are to battle I must not be weak.
And give us your strength world, and your food and your water,
oh, I am your saviour, your last serving daughter.



There's hope in the air,
there's hope in the water,
but sadly not me,
your last serving daughter.

There's hope in the air,
there's hope in the water,
But no hope for me,
your last serving daughter.