Showing posts from July, 2019

Good Medicine!

Alzheimer's is such a sad disease, sometimes it is good to laugh a little... Last week Mom complained of stomach pain, but she couldn’t tell me where it hurt.   I asked the staff nurse to check on her.   Here’s the conversation: . Nurse: So, Flo, your daughter says you are experiencing stomach pains? Mom:  I am? Me:  Yes, remember?  You said your stomach hurts? Mom: I don't think so. Nurse:  Ok.  How have you been doing?  Any problems? Mom:  Well, my stomach hurts. The nurse and I exchange glances. Nurse presses lightly on her abdomen:  Any pain when I do this? Mom:  No Doctor presses on various areas of her abdomen, pelvic area and lower back:  Doctor: No pain, when I touch it here? Mom:  No Doctor:  Does it hurt worse after you eat? Mom:  I don't think so. Doctor:  Ok, Flo, let's have you lay back on the table so you can point out exactly where it hurts.  We may need to order an ultra sound. The nurse assists mom in removing her
Good Intentions The elderly woman looked a bit lost as she sat in her wheelchair in the center of the recreational area.  Her eyes flitted from person to person as though searching for someone or something familiar.   I was there to eat with Mom, but she was getting her hair styled, so I had nothing to do but wait.   I hadn’t seen this woman before.   Maybe she was new.   Perhaps I could help her.   I made eye contact with her and smiled reassuringly.   She seemed startled at the attention and slowly wheeled her chair over to me. “I don’t know where I am or why I am here,” she said.   “I don’t understand.” I leaned down to eye level.   I wasn’t sure how to respond, how to make her feel less confused. “I’m so sorry,” I said, in what I hoped was a soothing voice.   “Maybe I can go find somebody to explain where you are.”   “You’re making me feel stupid!” she snapped at me.   She wheeled away before I could respond. In retrospect, I can see that I was tal
Some Days Are Crappier Than Others! While visiting Mom today, I decided to take her out of the memory care center and let her enjoy the outside for a bit.   It was a lovely day for Oklahoma .   I pushed her wheelchair down the corridor and out of the building to one of their many garden areas.   The scent of freshly mown grass mingled with the fragrance of the flowers.   I sat on an iron park bench next to mom’s chair.       “Isn’t this lovely?” I asked as I turned my face towards hers. Something was terribly wrong.   Mom was trembling and pale.   She wore an agonized expression.      Was she having a stroke?   A heart attack? “Mom, what’s wrong?   Are you okay?”   Her breathing seemed laboured and her eyes darted around frantically.   Was this the end?   Was this going to be my last memory of her?   Watching her in agony? I hurriedly wheeled her back down the hall to the memory care center and frantically pushed the button three times, the code for