The Abyss of Aging

Yesterday, I visited mom.  She looked good.  We sat mostly just holding hands.  One of her favorite things for me to do for her is to rub hand lotion on her hands.  The transition in her hands is remarkable.  She describes her hands before the lotion goes on, “Just like sandpaper.”  But after I apply the lotion and rub her hands she smiles and says, “They feel nice.”  I try to remember to do this each and every time I visit because I know although this seems like such a small gesture, her hands feeling good is a big deal to her. 

I asked her if she would like to escort me to her room so I could go and hang up her red jacket that I had washed and brought back.  I try to have her walk a little each time I am there to see how she is doing.  I asked her if she was in any pain and she said no.

When I opened her closet doors, I noticed that someone had added two more packages of adult diapers on top of her closet making the total now four packages of adult diapers.  I immediately checked the sizes and fortunately both additional packages were medium.  The weird thing is mom now has 80 diapers on her top shelf again.  I guess the good news is that they are all her size.

We walk back to our favorite lounge chairs, mom sits on the small one and I sit on the bigger one.  Just like the story of the Three Bears both chairs seem to fit us perfectly. 

 

Mom asks me to take her sock off her left foot.  I had been told that mom’s feet are swelling but her left foot looked downright painful. 

I called her nurse who looked at her foot and said, “We are giving her lasix for the swelling.” 

I answered, “Is mom safe to walk on this foot?” 

Her nurse shook her head saying, “Yes.” 

“I just wonder if mom would not be safer or more comfortable in a wheelchair.” 

“We try to keep everyone walking as long as possible.  Gilda, is it painful to walk?”  Mom shook herself no.

“Mom, would you rather be in a wheelchair?  Would that be easier for you?”

“No, I won’t be able to go to the washroom by myself.”

 

I left thinking that the walker is another form of independence, and taking the walker away from mom is another step in the abyss of aging.  Mom does not want to take that step.  At least not right now.



Just like this photo, doing the right thing for mom is unclear.