What a River!
It's hard -- Plottie has got to tell himself she's 96. But the fall the other night seems to have crumbled more memory cells -- she can't remember much of anything right now. Plottie even found himself shouting at her this morning, and then asking her in frustration if she remembered how she felt when The Chief would ask her fifty times a morning whether or not she wanted coffee. She couldn't remember that either.
So it's one foot in front of the other, deep breaths and solve one problem at a time. One thing that's clear -- The Great Plotnik is not a very good nurse. Ducknik is better but it's not her calling either. Also, it's not her mom.
Everyone else is unreachable, cell phones off, it appears. Which, we suppose, makes sense but it doesn't help. Denial is a wide, wider river.
posted by DAK @ 12:03 PM
3 Comments:
Let me know if a long distance hello would help, or hinder.
I always enjoy talking to Rose.
Now, of course, tomorrow night is the Tony Awards on CBS...5 p.m. your time. SO you know I will be incommunicado- except during commericals when DC niecy and I will be burning up the air waves.
:-)
Oh, I just read your 2 posts. I'm so sorry you have to go through this and you both are better nurses than you think you are. You're there after all.
It's essential to embrace the be-here-now spirit. Sometimes my mom and I go over the same territory five times in a half hour ("Do I have a doctor?" "Yes, he visits you here at home." "When do I see him again?" "Next week." "Oh . . . Do I have a doctor?" Rinse and repeat and repeat and repeat.)
It's a zen exercise. Live in the moment. Let it all flow past you without expecting more. Granted I sometimes feel like making flash cards with certain bits of info ("You don't have a car anymore."), but there's a certain peace in repeating info to her (sort of like reading a repetitious book to a child) and you'll only create frustration all around if you demand more.
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