Wednesday 30 January 2013
The Dementia Diary: Cabbage Rolls
The Dementia Diary: Cabbage Rolls: Last week mom was eating dinner. She complained that she wasn't feeling well and her colour was a little off. She wasn't hungry but with m...
Cabbage Rolls
Last week mom was eating dinner. She complained that she wasn't feeling well and her colour was a little off. She wasn't hungry but with my coaxing she ate a little bit. Then woompf, projectile puking. The flu.
Even with a flu shot and everyone in who is in contact with mom too, she still got a bit of the flu. The nurse gave her Gravol, checked the fever and we put her to bed. I hung around for a little bit just to make sure. The staff assured me, there was nothing going around the facility and she would be okay. My mind was not at ease. Your hear about Avian Flu, Noro-virus, H1N1, H2N3, H3N1 and so on and so on. What we hear is that people can and do die from the flu. Usually those that succumb to the flu are the elderly. Of course this was on my mind and I did not sleep well that night. I kept thinking, this would be some twisted karmic turn if mom were to make it this far and then die from the flu. The next morning, she was better. Still on bed rest and still not feeling well, but better. The wave of relief over me was warming.
I left for a few days. Everyone again assured me that mom would be okay and not to worry and to just go. So I did and I returned a few days later. My dad was suspiciously quiet on the ride back from the airport. I told him to go directly to mom's home and we did. Everyone was so friendly and welcoming that you would've thought I'd been gone a couple months. I was nice to be home. Down I went to mom's ward but she wasn't around, she was in her room. She was sitting in her new wheelchair looking at the birds. I went and kissed her, said hi and immediately she said.
"Where have you been, I'm sick?"
I told her that I went away for a few days, that I told her I would be away for a few days and I'm back now and she doesn't look sick. She simply kept looking at the birds. The son of my mom's room mate was there and he called me over.
"Lisa, she hasn't eaten for days," he said. "You gotta get her to eat."
Now, understanding why my dad was quieter than usual, I went down to the day nurse and asked what's been going on in my absence. She explained that my mom insists that she will vomit if she eats so no one can get her to eat. She also said that mom had been taking fluids without any problem and there was no fever. But they have been giving her Gravol to relieve any nausea because no one can say for sure if she was nauseous, but in a nutshell, mom was refusing to eat.
It was nearly lunch hour and mom didn't want to eat in the dining room. She claimed the smell was making her sick so we agreed that she could eat on her ward. I went and got her a cup of soup and some crackers. Still, she refused to eat and yelled at me that she is sick and if she were to eat she would throw up. With some not so gentle coaxing, she ate a couple spoonfuls and a cracker. She insisted again that she would get sick but she didn't. I tried to encourage her to eat some more and explained that she hasn't gotten sick and she won't but she will if she doesn't eat. There was no reasoning with her, so I left it.
At dinnertime it was the same thing, only she ate nothing. So I asked her if there was anything that she would eat. Mom thought about it and she responded "A chocolate milkshake". Dad was there so off he drove to get her a chocolate shake and when he returned she drank it all down. That was encouraging and again it stayed down because she wasn't sick. Later we were watching a bit of TV and mom said "I need to see the doctor, I'm sick". Again, I tried to reason with her but it was like talking to a wall. In her mind she was sick and needed to see the doctor. That is my mother. The woman would run to the doctor weekly for anything from a hang nail to a runny nose. That's just the way she was and is. Mom is one of those people who thinks that anything the doctor advises is close to the word of God. So, I put in a request for the nurse practitioner to come and see mom the next day.
The nurse practitioner came the following day. She poked around mom's tummy and told her that she needs to eat. She assured mom that she isn't sick but she will be if she doesn't eat. Mom listened and told her that she would eat. At lunch mom insisted she wasn't hungry, again. This time she wasn't going to eat because of it. I discussed what the nurse had said earlier, mom remembered but simply said "I won't eat if I'm not hungry". That was that. Frustrated I went to my favourite place in the facility, the chapel. I sat and I sat and I sat and I had an 'aha' moment. I asked mom again, that if there were anything she could eat, what would it be. Again, she thought about it and answered "Cabbage rolls". I promised that I would be back with some cabbage rolls at dinner.
In freezer at my father's house were the last bunch of cabbage rolls that mom made. I cooked them and with a great sadness. I reminisced about the loving arguments her and Sylvia Slavin would have about who's recipe was better (I did prefer Sylvia's because she used some bacon). I remembered making them with her and how often I would grimace when she would take little pinch of filling mixture to taste, it had raw meat in it, I still grimace thinking about it. I remembered how important it was to not over cook the cabbage and to make sure the water was heavily salted. I thought about the encouragement she gave me when I six and she first taught me how cut the cabbage and how roll, tightly, but not too tightly. I can still remember my first cabbage roll that I rolled and how it barely held together but to her, it was the best cabbage roll she had even eaten.
I also thought about this. One of the hazards that elderly dementia patients face is malnutrition and loss of appetite. With some it's because of medication, with others it can be depression and others lose their senses of smell and taste. Sometimes the hunger response is diminished, and it doesn't come back. No one likes to eat when they aren't hungry, myself included. With mom, there are so many possible reasons for her aversion to food, that I could speculate for hours.
I took the cabbage rolls to mom. Together her and I ate a few, not a lot, but a few. I knew they were made by mom and I knew these would the last cabbage rolls that I would eat, that were made by my mom. I cried but I was happy she was eating, if only a little bit, she was eating. They were the best cabbage rolls I have ever eaten.
Even with a flu shot and everyone in who is in contact with mom too, she still got a bit of the flu. The nurse gave her Gravol, checked the fever and we put her to bed. I hung around for a little bit just to make sure. The staff assured me, there was nothing going around the facility and she would be okay. My mind was not at ease. Your hear about Avian Flu, Noro-virus, H1N1, H2N3, H3N1 and so on and so on. What we hear is that people can and do die from the flu. Usually those that succumb to the flu are the elderly. Of course this was on my mind and I did not sleep well that night. I kept thinking, this would be some twisted karmic turn if mom were to make it this far and then die from the flu. The next morning, she was better. Still on bed rest and still not feeling well, but better. The wave of relief over me was warming.
I left for a few days. Everyone again assured me that mom would be okay and not to worry and to just go. So I did and I returned a few days later. My dad was suspiciously quiet on the ride back from the airport. I told him to go directly to mom's home and we did. Everyone was so friendly and welcoming that you would've thought I'd been gone a couple months. I was nice to be home. Down I went to mom's ward but she wasn't around, she was in her room. She was sitting in her new wheelchair looking at the birds. I went and kissed her, said hi and immediately she said.
"Where have you been, I'm sick?"
I told her that I went away for a few days, that I told her I would be away for a few days and I'm back now and she doesn't look sick. She simply kept looking at the birds. The son of my mom's room mate was there and he called me over.
"Lisa, she hasn't eaten for days," he said. "You gotta get her to eat."
Now, understanding why my dad was quieter than usual, I went down to the day nurse and asked what's been going on in my absence. She explained that my mom insists that she will vomit if she eats so no one can get her to eat. She also said that mom had been taking fluids without any problem and there was no fever. But they have been giving her Gravol to relieve any nausea because no one can say for sure if she was nauseous, but in a nutshell, mom was refusing to eat.
It was nearly lunch hour and mom didn't want to eat in the dining room. She claimed the smell was making her sick so we agreed that she could eat on her ward. I went and got her a cup of soup and some crackers. Still, she refused to eat and yelled at me that she is sick and if she were to eat she would throw up. With some not so gentle coaxing, she ate a couple spoonfuls and a cracker. She insisted again that she would get sick but she didn't. I tried to encourage her to eat some more and explained that she hasn't gotten sick and she won't but she will if she doesn't eat. There was no reasoning with her, so I left it.
At dinnertime it was the same thing, only she ate nothing. So I asked her if there was anything that she would eat. Mom thought about it and she responded "A chocolate milkshake". Dad was there so off he drove to get her a chocolate shake and when he returned she drank it all down. That was encouraging and again it stayed down because she wasn't sick. Later we were watching a bit of TV and mom said "I need to see the doctor, I'm sick". Again, I tried to reason with her but it was like talking to a wall. In her mind she was sick and needed to see the doctor. That is my mother. The woman would run to the doctor weekly for anything from a hang nail to a runny nose. That's just the way she was and is. Mom is one of those people who thinks that anything the doctor advises is close to the word of God. So, I put in a request for the nurse practitioner to come and see mom the next day.
The nurse practitioner came the following day. She poked around mom's tummy and told her that she needs to eat. She assured mom that she isn't sick but she will be if she doesn't eat. Mom listened and told her that she would eat. At lunch mom insisted she wasn't hungry, again. This time she wasn't going to eat because of it. I discussed what the nurse had said earlier, mom remembered but simply said "I won't eat if I'm not hungry". That was that. Frustrated I went to my favourite place in the facility, the chapel. I sat and I sat and I sat and I had an 'aha' moment. I asked mom again, that if there were anything she could eat, what would it be. Again, she thought about it and answered "Cabbage rolls". I promised that I would be back with some cabbage rolls at dinner.
In freezer at my father's house were the last bunch of cabbage rolls that mom made. I cooked them and with a great sadness. I reminisced about the loving arguments her and Sylvia Slavin would have about who's recipe was better (I did prefer Sylvia's because she used some bacon). I remembered making them with her and how often I would grimace when she would take little pinch of filling mixture to taste, it had raw meat in it, I still grimace thinking about it. I remembered how important it was to not over cook the cabbage and to make sure the water was heavily salted. I thought about the encouragement she gave me when I six and she first taught me how cut the cabbage and how roll, tightly, but not too tightly. I can still remember my first cabbage roll that I rolled and how it barely held together but to her, it was the best cabbage roll she had even eaten.
I also thought about this. One of the hazards that elderly dementia patients face is malnutrition and loss of appetite. With some it's because of medication, with others it can be depression and others lose their senses of smell and taste. Sometimes the hunger response is diminished, and it doesn't come back. No one likes to eat when they aren't hungry, myself included. With mom, there are so many possible reasons for her aversion to food, that I could speculate for hours.
I took the cabbage rolls to mom. Together her and I ate a few, not a lot, but a few. I knew they were made by mom and I knew these would the last cabbage rolls that I would eat, that were made by my mom. I cried but I was happy she was eating, if only a little bit, she was eating. They were the best cabbage rolls I have ever eaten.
Saturday 19 January 2013
The Dementia Diary: A small step
The Dementia Diary: A small step: Months ago I wrote a post about the Broda chairs. In that posting I made a creative analogy in which I likened them to a Hertz only that th...
A small step
Months ago I wrote a post about the Broda chairs. In that posting I made a creative analogy in which I likened them to a Hertz only that the bodies in them were still alive. I got a comment about that post where a reader had told me that I was being over dramatic. I wasn't, I was being honest. When a person is at the point of needing a Broda chair it is because they have no control over their body and are unable to control even their upper body. The Broda chair is padded and it reclines to many positions to accommodate the fact that those using them will lean to one side or the other because they cannot maintain control of their backs, posture, neck, etc, etc. The reality is that when a person is moved from a regular wheelchair to a Broda chair it is because they have physically deteriorated to a point of severity. Most dementia patients that are in a Broda chair are really just a shell of who they once were. So, to me they represented a Hertz because the person in them is essentially already gone. I also said in my response that people who go into a Broda chair, don't come out of the Broda chair and unfortunately, usually the next step is an actual Hertz. Well, leave it to my mother to prove me wrong.
Everyone who follows this post is well aware that my mom has made some cognitive leaps in the past 6 weeks. I am pleased to say that now she is also making physical leaps and she is physically getting better too. A few months ago she was so edemic with fluid that I had to remove her wedding ring and eventually we couldn't even put regular socks on her feet as the edema was so severe, it would cut off her circulation. When I arrived in the fall, my mother couldn't support her upper body, she needed an orthopedic neck support and she was always slouched over. For months she had no control or use of her hands and the muscles were getting so rigid that she was loosing the ability to swallow properly. All of these physical symptoms have disappeared and it's almost like they never existed. The edema is gone, she can use her hands again, she sits up and supports her head and hasn't used the neck support for a month. Then, three weeks ago my mom said that she wanted to walk again and I told her that I would help. Her team, the care givers, her nurses, her nurse practitioner, her doctor, my dad and me, decided she should start using a regular wheelchair. Yesterday that's what we did, we gave mom a new wheelchair and said goodbye to the Broda. It was almost as exciting as watching my children walk for the first time and I was so happy that I could have shit a rainbow, literally.
Mom took to her new wheels quickly and immediately started to paddle her way around with the feet, like many residents who are in a wheelchair do. Dad and I realized that she needs new walking shoes then and off we went. Because she will use the heel of the shoe a lot, we needed to find a shoe with a strong, thick tread that continued up the back into the heel of the shoe. Thank you Merril shoes for making such a shoe and thank you Trailblazers for carrying the Merril line. My dad was hesitant because he wanted to find something more feminine and I laughed "Really dad, a pair of high heels will not work in this situation". He agreed and we purchased a pair of slip on Merril shoes in versatile and stylish black. Mom loved them and the nurses agreed they are stylish and functional.
I realize this is a small step but to me, considering that I came here 5 months ago intending to hold my mother's hand on her final journey, it was like she was running a marathon. I am so happy for her as this gives her some more dignity and freedom back and more importantly, a bit of independence. She is happy too. I am hoping that using the wheelchair to paddle around the facility will strengthen her legs even more and that perhaps in a month or more I can hold her hand while I walk beside her.
Everyone who follows this post is well aware that my mom has made some cognitive leaps in the past 6 weeks. I am pleased to say that now she is also making physical leaps and she is physically getting better too. A few months ago she was so edemic with fluid that I had to remove her wedding ring and eventually we couldn't even put regular socks on her feet as the edema was so severe, it would cut off her circulation. When I arrived in the fall, my mother couldn't support her upper body, she needed an orthopedic neck support and she was always slouched over. For months she had no control or use of her hands and the muscles were getting so rigid that she was loosing the ability to swallow properly. All of these physical symptoms have disappeared and it's almost like they never existed. The edema is gone, she can use her hands again, she sits up and supports her head and hasn't used the neck support for a month. Then, three weeks ago my mom said that she wanted to walk again and I told her that I would help. Her team, the care givers, her nurses, her nurse practitioner, her doctor, my dad and me, decided she should start using a regular wheelchair. Yesterday that's what we did, we gave mom a new wheelchair and said goodbye to the Broda. It was almost as exciting as watching my children walk for the first time and I was so happy that I could have shit a rainbow, literally.
Mom took to her new wheels quickly and immediately started to paddle her way around with the feet, like many residents who are in a wheelchair do. Dad and I realized that she needs new walking shoes then and off we went. Because she will use the heel of the shoe a lot, we needed to find a shoe with a strong, thick tread that continued up the back into the heel of the shoe. Thank you Merril shoes for making such a shoe and thank you Trailblazers for carrying the Merril line. My dad was hesitant because he wanted to find something more feminine and I laughed "Really dad, a pair of high heels will not work in this situation". He agreed and we purchased a pair of slip on Merril shoes in versatile and stylish black. Mom loved them and the nurses agreed they are stylish and functional.
I realize this is a small step but to me, considering that I came here 5 months ago intending to hold my mother's hand on her final journey, it was like she was running a marathon. I am so happy for her as this gives her some more dignity and freedom back and more importantly, a bit of independence. She is happy too. I am hoping that using the wheelchair to paddle around the facility will strengthen her legs even more and that perhaps in a month or more I can hold her hand while I walk beside her.
Thursday 17 January 2013
The Dementia Diary: Stuck in a moment
The Dementia Diary: Stuck in a moment: During the first couple months of this journey with mom, I was not enjoying it. It was sad, everyday was sad. Watching her staring aimless...
Stuck in a moment
During the first couple months of this journey with mom, I was not enjoying it. It was sad, everyday was sad. Watching her staring aimlessly at the wall, or slouched over in her Broda chair, or the fear in her eyes at times, well it was heart breaking. But now that mom is alive again, the days are different. Mom still has aimless moments but her fear is gone. She is well aware of where is she and who is around her and what is wrong with her and she seems to accept this. Yet, at the same time, her mind will travel back. She travels back to periods of time that she has already lived and things she has already experienced. It's difficult to explain, so hopefully this post will help to understand what I mean.
With the dementia she gets lost in time. It's like she can't tell the difference between the past and the present. This week she was lost in the 80's. For a day, in her mind, I was a teenager again and when I went to help her with lunch, she asked why I wasn't at school. The strange thing is, she is well aware where she is and why she is there, but part of her brain goes back in time and the rest of us are in that moment too. While I helped with her lunch she talked about my math grades and how she would call Mrs. Crawford and pay for her to tutor me. Well back in 1982, that's what happened. My math grades were crap and I went to Mrs. Crawford for tutoring. So, I let her have her moment of time and although back in 1982 I fought and fought about it and because she wouldn't stop, I reluctantly went for tutoring. Well on this day, I agreed and she was shocked.
Later we were reading Chatelaine. There was an interesting article on HPV and the vaccine. The magazine is dated October 2012 and she read the article intently and the statistics from recent studies in 2009. When she finished reading it, she gave it to me and demanded that I read it, so I did. Then she started.
"Do you see, do you see.... another reason why you shouldn't have sex" and she was off on a rant. This was NOT a conversation we had in 1982 but the ranting about premarital sex, that I remember. Mom was determined that I would be a virgin when I got married. Constantly she would rant on about the evils of premarital sex, the why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free, nobody buys used goods, etc,etc. Her constant threat was that should I engage in premarital sex, she would send me to the convent. It actually wasn't a convent, it was a private girls school in Saskatchewan that was run by nuns, but pretty much a convent. She would rant so much that even my friends would laugh about it and there is an entry in my 1982 yearbook written by one of the Sternloff's and it says something like 'I'm afraid if write anything your mother will send you to the convent, so best wishes'.
For years I was able to hide the fact that I wasn't a virgin from my mother. It took some skill. I had two diaries. Diary one and then two were compilations of innocuous teenage ramblings and often hidden under my mattress or in a drawer. Diaries three, four and five weren't diaries, they were journals and from the covers they looked liked regular books or day-timers. They were never hidden. The one I was writing in was always with me or locked in my school locker and when they were full, they were stored in plain view, in my bookcase (I still have every journal, now on my 56th so when I die, someone can write an authentic biography). So, needless to say, my mother believed that I kept my virginity until I went to Europe, years after the fact.
On this day, since she was stuck in 1982 or around then, I thought it was time to come clean. When she finished ranting I took her hands and told her that I had something very important to say and I told her that I was no longer a virgin. The reason I took her hands was because I was fully expecting some loud, angry ranting and possibly a slap across the face. Instead she was calm. She didn't rant, she didn't yell, she didn't scream. In fact, she was eerily silent. "I suspected as much," she said. Then she wanted to know who. Well, I wasn't giving it all up so she preceded to name just about every boy she could think of.
"One of those Sternloff boys?"
"No".
"One of those Brock boys?"
"No".
"Well not that Seow boy, he's an alter boy".
"No".
"That skinny Blackwood boy?"
"No".
"One of the Eklof boys?"
"No".
"Well it's not that Kitteringham boy because his family moved".
"No".
"That red headed Whelan boy, his parents smoke dope you know".
"No".
And so on and so on and I think she named just about every boy that ever lived in Canmore before finally saying "It doesn't matter, but I'll call Dr. Balharry and we'll get you on the birth control pill and get this vaccine because you don't want to get cancer from sex".
I laughed and told her to call Dr. Balharry and that I had to get back to school. I kissed her and thanked her for not getting angry.
As I walked down the hall I kept wondering if I had told her 30 years ago, would she have reacted the same. I think she would have because that is a moment that mothers and daughters should have. Then I started to cry. They were tears of gratitude because I just had that moment with my mom. More importantly, my mom finally got her moment with her daughter. Suddenly, I felt closer to my mom than I have in my entire life simply because we got stuck in a moment.
With the dementia she gets lost in time. It's like she can't tell the difference between the past and the present. This week she was lost in the 80's. For a day, in her mind, I was a teenager again and when I went to help her with lunch, she asked why I wasn't at school. The strange thing is, she is well aware where she is and why she is there, but part of her brain goes back in time and the rest of us are in that moment too. While I helped with her lunch she talked about my math grades and how she would call Mrs. Crawford and pay for her to tutor me. Well back in 1982, that's what happened. My math grades were crap and I went to Mrs. Crawford for tutoring. So, I let her have her moment of time and although back in 1982 I fought and fought about it and because she wouldn't stop, I reluctantly went for tutoring. Well on this day, I agreed and she was shocked.
Later we were reading Chatelaine. There was an interesting article on HPV and the vaccine. The magazine is dated October 2012 and she read the article intently and the statistics from recent studies in 2009. When she finished reading it, she gave it to me and demanded that I read it, so I did. Then she started.
"Do you see, do you see.... another reason why you shouldn't have sex" and she was off on a rant. This was NOT a conversation we had in 1982 but the ranting about premarital sex, that I remember. Mom was determined that I would be a virgin when I got married. Constantly she would rant on about the evils of premarital sex, the why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free, nobody buys used goods, etc,etc. Her constant threat was that should I engage in premarital sex, she would send me to the convent. It actually wasn't a convent, it was a private girls school in Saskatchewan that was run by nuns, but pretty much a convent. She would rant so much that even my friends would laugh about it and there is an entry in my 1982 yearbook written by one of the Sternloff's and it says something like 'I'm afraid if write anything your mother will send you to the convent, so best wishes'.
For years I was able to hide the fact that I wasn't a virgin from my mother. It took some skill. I had two diaries. Diary one and then two were compilations of innocuous teenage ramblings and often hidden under my mattress or in a drawer. Diaries three, four and five weren't diaries, they were journals and from the covers they looked liked regular books or day-timers. They were never hidden. The one I was writing in was always with me or locked in my school locker and when they were full, they were stored in plain view, in my bookcase (I still have every journal, now on my 56th so when I die, someone can write an authentic biography). So, needless to say, my mother believed that I kept my virginity until I went to Europe, years after the fact.
On this day, since she was stuck in 1982 or around then, I thought it was time to come clean. When she finished ranting I took her hands and told her that I had something very important to say and I told her that I was no longer a virgin. The reason I took her hands was because I was fully expecting some loud, angry ranting and possibly a slap across the face. Instead she was calm. She didn't rant, she didn't yell, she didn't scream. In fact, she was eerily silent. "I suspected as much," she said. Then she wanted to know who. Well, I wasn't giving it all up so she preceded to name just about every boy she could think of.
"One of those Sternloff boys?"
"No".
"One of those Brock boys?"
"No".
"Well not that Seow boy, he's an alter boy".
"No".
"That skinny Blackwood boy?"
"No".
"One of the Eklof boys?"
"No".
"Well it's not that Kitteringham boy because his family moved".
"No".
"That red headed Whelan boy, his parents smoke dope you know".
"No".
And so on and so on and I think she named just about every boy that ever lived in Canmore before finally saying "It doesn't matter, but I'll call Dr. Balharry and we'll get you on the birth control pill and get this vaccine because you don't want to get cancer from sex".
I laughed and told her to call Dr. Balharry and that I had to get back to school. I kissed her and thanked her for not getting angry.
As I walked down the hall I kept wondering if I had told her 30 years ago, would she have reacted the same. I think she would have because that is a moment that mothers and daughters should have. Then I started to cry. They were tears of gratitude because I just had that moment with my mom. More importantly, my mom finally got her moment with her daughter. Suddenly, I felt closer to my mom than I have in my entire life simply because we got stuck in a moment.
Sunday 13 January 2013
The Dementia Diary: Just like old times.
The Dementia Diary: Just like old times.: My mom loved a good argument and goodness knows her and I had more than a few doozies and frequently. I honestly can't think of one thing w...
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