A Room Without a Phone

Odd as it may seem mom does not have a phone in her room. The reason is simple: mom does not want to talk on the phone. She does not even want to talk to her children by phone.

She would be terribly frustrated if the phone rang so we headed off that problem by eliminating her phone. For one thing she would have to remember where the phone was set; then she would have to reach the phone before the rings stopped.  Mom is not steady on her feet and her reaction time is slow.  Picking up the phone would be a daunting task.  Although a simple task for many, at mom’s stage her answering the phone would be an overwhelming task. 

Furthermore in mom’s present state, she is never in her room outside of when she goes to sleep for the night or when she goes in her room to use her washroom.   

Many times when I want to see how mom’s progressing, I will call either her nurse or her hospice nurse.  Either one is happy to inform me on mom’s well-being.  In addition, they will give mom any message I would like to relay to her.

If they ask her if she would like to talk to me with their phone, her answer is always ‘No’.  She would rather not talk to me or anyone else by phone.  She has said to me when I ask her about taking calls that she feels uncomfortable.  “I won’t be able to talk.  I don’t like answering questions.”

My feelings are not hurt; the more I am with mom the more I understand her condition and her request.  Even in person, I sometimes have to guess what she is trying to tell me and reassure her when neither of us can figure it out that it’s OK. 

Fortunately, my listening skills are improving.  Mom has been much clearer lately with many full sentences.  I work hard at giving mom my full attention when I am with her which helps me fill in the missing pieces when she cannot.  My job is to be a wordsmith when I am with mom and sometimes I am better than other times.

When I go out of town, I always see her right before I go and when I return.  In the meantime, I send mom positive, healthy thoughts and I leave her in “God’s hands.”