Head-spinning

I love these pictures my brother took while he was here visiting.  Mom, dressed and ready for physical therapy.  She loves going to physical therapy!  She likes to feel strong.  Her eating has been pretty good too - a huge difference from when she was refusing to eat anything but hard-boiled eggs and applesauce.  she's been eating  mashed potatoes, chicken, veggies, fruits - and loves pudding for dessert!

Look at that smile.  That twinkle in her eye.  Mom is a beautiful soul living in a body that isn't cooperating.  She's had an amazing month of clarity.  Of expressing herself.  Of engaging and being engaged.  Storytelling.  Sharing memories.  This is the Mom I've known my whole life.  We are at once total opposites and exactly alike.  

I admit, I allowed myself to be lulled into the thought that maybe she just needed some attention.  That the brain fog was a result of the infection and big toe trauma.  That once the toe was removed, everything would clear up and Mom would be Mom again.  With the exception of a couple of instances of "I thought you'd abandoned me" while in the hospital, it all seemed to be true.  She was alert and engaging.  John and Mary came to visit and she was pretty with it.  Andy came and she was downright charming (he took these two pictures).  But even while they were here, there were a couple of instances of sundowning,  After they left, she was pretty good during the day, but after dinner it was like a switch had been thrown and she would go quiet, or scared, or angry.  She worried about everything.  I tried to reassure her that she didn't need to - that I would make sure everything happened the way it was supposed to and that would mollify her for a few minutes, then it was back to fretting.

One evening this week, I walked in and she was looking at the calendar that she insisted I get for her and crying.  She couldn't make heads or tails out of it.  She didn't understand how the calendar worked.  I showed her what day it was and she asked about everything above it.  I told her she didn't have to worry about it because it was already done and in the past.  I marked through all the days of the month that had already gone by.  It helped for a minute.

The last thing this month was an appointment at Wound Care.  I put it in a box so she could see it.  There was a little question of whether or not it would happen because of the hurricane, so I put a question mark next to it.  After verifying with the office that they were indeed taking patients again, I called the rehab and told them it was on and I'd meet her there.

Well, that was fun.  As soon as we got into the office, she started complaining.  That the CNAs were idiots, that they didn't listen, that they "steamrolled" her.  Not even sure what that means.  It was dirty and no one there knew what they were doing.  A very different tune from the one she was singing while in the memory care.  She would wax nostalgic for the rehab and wish she could go back.  Now that she's back, they can't do anything right.  From what I can gather, she was upset because she came to the doctor in the same clothes she did physical therapy in.  Ironic, as these were the clothes I'd laid out for her to wear to the doctor's office.  She complained about everything right up until the doctor came in.  He's probably right between her and me in age, but Mom swears he was there when she was born.  Logic doesn't help in this case, so I just nod and let her keep thinking that.  I think it gives her some kind of weird comfort to think that.  He looked at her foot, did a little poking and prodding.  His associate cleaned out the wound, measured things and wrote new orders for the care of her... wound.  Mom and the Doctor chatted a little and then he got up to go to the next patient.  As soon as he left, she got sullen again.  The nurse wrapped her foot and we were done.  It was pouring rain as we waited for the van to return.  It actually looked like the hurricane had returned - raining sideways.  Mom was pretty happy just to sit there in the waiting room and waiting.  She was in no hurry to return.  The transport lady showed up with a giant umbrella and Mom was loaded, mostly dry, into the van.  She then walked me to my car so that I could get in, mostly dry.  

I confess, I'm not going back for dinner.  The doctor appointment was enough Mom for the day.  I will take her clean laundry and a couple of other things in the morning.  The rain is a good excuse for staying in - because she will ask, plaintively, why I didn't come last night.  Telling her that my brain and my patience were too tired really wouldn't be productive.  I hope Morning Mom is in a better mood.