A strange day

Mom has good days and bad days.  We all do but when you have Dementia a bad day can be really bad and this was one of those days.  Mom has her first worrisome bed sore.  So when I came just before lunch the wing nurse told me that she would have to eat and then return to bed.  Now, this makes no sense to me.  If she has a bad bedsore then why would you keep her in bed??? I questioned the nurse and asked why the doctor hasn't been around to look at it.  Her answer "We only bother the doctor when they become infected".  Believe me, I was biting my lip from the stupidity of that.  Why wouldn't you try to avoid infection and have a doctor look at it and even prescribe something prior to infection.  Then I thought about it, I'm sure bedsores are a very common occurrence and a doctor could spend all day just looking at bedsores.  Still, it worries me because an infection could be what puts mom over the edge and I would hate for the reason for her passing to be a fucking bedsore.
So after lunch the nurses wanted to change her dressing and then put back in bed.  I wanted to get a look at this bedsore, but of course they wouldn't let me so I waited outside in the common area and watched some tv with the other residents.  Then I hear "I know you." It was the lady next to me, my mothers 'room mate'.
I reminded her that I'm Elaine's daughter and she responded "You haven't changed a bit, you still have that cute little button nose".  Well this peaked my curiosity and sure enough, she did know me.  Olga  lived around the corner from us in Canmore, in the 70's when we still lived on 4th street.  Her daughter Jo-ann babysat me a few times and my brothers went to school with her son Manuel and she remembers me from the old arena and when I figure skated.  We talked about Duncan Baxter and the Bushulaks and the Myers and the Fules and everyone from the old neighborhood.  What a small world and here 40 years later old neighborhood women sharing the same room.  "Shame about your mom," she said.  Then the nurses came and got me and told me that I could go and sit with mom.
Mom had been cranky at lunch, refusing to eat, so I knew that this bedsore must be causing her some pain.   I sat beside the bed and read People magazine to her and then Chatelaine, showing her the pictures, she just stared at me.  I thought she would fall asleep but she didn't and that confirmed for me that she must be in pain.  I went and got a Reader's Digest to share with her and I started reading an article to her and then she blurts out "Get that stupid look off your face".  Well wasn't that a blast from past.  There was the mother I knew and loved and suddenly I was 15 again. I know angry outbursts like that are because of Dementia but still I found it comforting. Yep, having my mom tell me off was like hearing heaven.  I carried on reading.  About a half hour later I could see her eyes were getting droopy and she blurted out again "You can leave now".  So I kissed her head and told her to have a good nap.  Then I went to workers station and I didn't ask them, I told them to keep an eye on the bedsore because if it gets infected, I will be pissed off and I may be all roses and sunshine, but you don't want to piss me off.  I think they got it.