Took the three youngest to see my mom today, and while it was a good visit, it's rattling to see how she processes information. And please keep in mind as I'm sharing a particular situation, it's not done critically, but in wonder. Brains are fascinating, whether they're working right or not.
Mom's lunch was delivered to her room while we were there. In addition to her sandwich and soup, etc., she was given a plastic cup of iced tea. (Love the design of the cups---almost straight up and down and a bit squatty. Much better than those Solo cups from the grocery store that are always tippy.) Anyway, she opened her straw, taking off the paper and bending the top. She put the straw in the cup through the hole in the plastic top. So far, so good. Then she tore open a sugar packet and began to pour it where the straw fits into the lid. Made a mound of sugar around the straw. I just watched her, and saw as she figured out the problem, taking off the lid and tipping the sugar into the cup. She added a second sugar just fine.
I'm reminded of a young girl in our Sunday School class who has Down Syndrome. We tend to let her set her own pace, not helping unless absolutely necessary, and showing respect for her progress, no matter what it is. Sometimes it's a bit unusual. I enjoy watching her face, though, when you can tell she's trying to figure out things. My mom gets the same intent expression when she's attempting things.
Mom's speech therapist leaves her with work to finish--sort of like homework, with word association and questions related to opposites and related items. Mostly processing of information of some sort. I have to admit that I find some of it hard. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer---not me. :)
I still struggle over how different she is. A shadow of herself. I read somewhere about how important it is for caregivers (therapists/physicians) to see photographs of the older patient who's sick. To be able to imagine them healthy. Was thinking of taking a couple of pictures up there of my mom. For them to see her smiling, with her hair done and makeup on. She's had her hair cut off while she's been up there, doesn't look in a mirror at all, and while she has her makeup there--it's too hard for her to apply. I think a little vanity is a good thing, but it's just not on her radar anymore. About 48 hours after her stroke in November, she asked me to put makeup on her, which I did. Not anymore, and I think that's a bit sad.
Partly I think she's disinterested in most things. There are rare instances of enthusiasm for anything. I understand that, the best I can. I offered to take her outside since it's warmer and she said that when she leaves, she wants it to be the last time. Yeah, but wouldn't some fresh air (the first in months) be a nice change? Not so much.
Anyway, that's the scene with her now. Caring for her in her home is going to be a monstrous task. To save my own health, I've got to remember that when that time comes that I'm not doing it all by myself.
