Do I Love You?

I don’t know where Mom will end up.  If she does not try, she cannot go back to live in any place she wants to live.  Her dementia is hindering her progress since she cannot keep her mind focused on long-term goals.

Here is an email I sent to my sister as I waited with Mom to follow her transport to her follow-up appointment with the surgeon who repaired her broken hip:

Mom was sitting in her wheelchair (still, from therapy) when she told me “I usually wear a diaper.” I asked her if she was wearing her disposable briefs. She didn’t know, but unbuttoned her pants to check, and yes she was.

After a few minutes, she told me “I usually wear a diaper.” I told her she was wearing disposable briefs. She said “I am?” I said yes.

A few minutes later, she said “Well, I am going to have to make a BM pretty soon.” I felt so dumb for not understanding that “I usually wear a diaper” meant “I need to use the bathroom.” Learning curve.

I called the nurse and told her our need, and the nurse sent an aid (Lolita). We told her that Mom wanted to make a BM. Mom announced that “it might take a LONG time.” Lolita started to wheel Mom into the bathroom, saying Mom could take as long as she needed, and to pull the call string when she was finished. I intervened with “Mom can’t sit on a toilet!” Lolita, surprised: “She can’t?” Mom, surprised: “Why not?” I said it was not safe. I said that Mom had not yet been on a toilet since her fall a week and a half ago. Lolita to Mom: “You can’t stand?” Mom: “No, I can’t.” Lolita left to go find help. She came back with Ruby. I suggested that they help Mom use a bedpan. Mom suggested that she be put back in bed. They got Mom back in the bed, where Mom told a confusing story, the point of which was that she no longer needed to go. Lolita pulled Mom’s pants down and covered her with a sheet (still wearing the briefs of course) and told Mom to push the call button if she felt she needed to go and Lolita would come back.

In a little while, Mom told me that she was not going to be able to make a BM today.

Time passed. I got a little work done while Mom dozed. Lunch arrived. Mom thanked the delivery person cheerfully. After he left, Mom told me “I have this Ensure because I am not going to eat that (indicating the polish sausage that smelled delicious).” I asked her why not. Mom: “If I eat much meat, I get diarrhea.” I pointed out that she has not yet had a BM today, and perhaps eating the sausage would help her go. I added that she was wearing disposable briefs, just in case.

I went back to work on my computer while Mom quietly ate all of her sausage, half of her cabbage, none of her new potatos, a bite of her cornbread, all of her tea, and all of her chocolate ice cream.

Later, before I called the nurse back in to put Mom’s pants back on in readiness for her appointment, I asked Mom if she needed to use the bathroom. She said not right that second, and that she was constipated. Nurse came and discovered that Mom was wet, so she put on fresh brief and pad.

Transport is late. We are still here in Arlington in Mom’s room at 1:25pm. Lolita is going out to inquire about it.

More later.

Sister and I are each dealing with Mom in our own ways.  I keep telling both of us: we are doing the best that we know how to do.

Peggy Lee lyrics (sentimental for both Mom and me):

Do I love you?  Do I? Doesn’t one and one make two?
Do I love you? Do I? Does July need a sky of blue?

Would I miss you?  Would I?  If you ever should go away.
If the sun should desert the day, what would life be?

Will I leave you? – Never! Would the ocean leave the shore?
Will I worship you forever?  Isn’t heaven “forevermore?”

Do I love you? Do I? Oh my Dear it’s so easy to see:

Don’t you know that I do, don’t I show you I do – just as you love me.

Do I love you? Do I love you, do I love you? I do! I do, I do, I do, I do!