Creating Memories

 

Any time there is a chance to make mom feel a little better or put a smile on her face even only for a moment or two, I think it is a gift from God.  I do not want to miss an opportunity to make a happy memory that will last a lifetime.

Unfortunately, mom is finding enjoyment in very few things lately. Her progression seems to be spiraling downhill.

Today was beauty shop day for mom.  Since I am still on crutches, Jamie kindly volunteered to take mom.  I suggested that I would pick up lunch at one of mom’s favorite restaurants, California Pizza and meet both of them for lunch at The Community*.

When I saw mom she looked frail and lifeless.  She was walking slower than ever. 

She sadly said, “Look at me, I have no energy.”

“Take your time, mom, there is no hurry.”

“Julienne, my legs are shaking.” 

“Do you want me to get a wheelchair?”

“No.”

“OK, mom, let’s walk slowly.”

We all made ourselves comfortable in the Garden Room.  I snapped a photo of Jamie and mom.

 

Although mom in the past has eaten half a pizza which is three slices; today she could barely eat one and half pieces.

“I am just not hungry.  I’m too weak.”

“Eating will give you some energy.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Julienne, I am going to fall on my face again.”

“When did you fall on your face?”

Jamie piped in, “Mom we don’t want that to happen.”

“If you feel that way, mom, I think it is time to use a wheelchair.”

“Not yet.  They don’t want me, too.”

“If you are that weak mom, I think it is time.”  I said.

“Mom, we want you to be safe,” Jamie said.

 Mom does not want to use a wheelchair because she has to wait for someone to take her to the restroom.  Although in her present condition, I am afraid for her to go to the restroom by herself anyway.  When I am with her, I always go in with her and I am glad I do.

“No more doing my hair . . .  too hard for me.”

“Starting now anytime you leave the facility, we are going to at least put you in a wheelchair to transport you.  We are still going to go to the beauty shop, mom.  But it will be a lot easier for you that way.”

“Mom, thanks for letting me join you and Jamie today.”

“I enjoy being with you both.”

“We love spending time with you.”

“I’m a burden.  Dig a hole . . . put me in.”

“Please don’t say that, mom, you are not a burden,” I said while grabbing mom’s ice cold hands.

“Mom, your hands are like ice cubes.”

“I am freezing.  My top doesn’t have neck.”

"I noticed that.  As soon as we are done eating, I will go upstairs with you and put a turtleneck under your sweater. "

 “Julienne, don’t you see.   I’m getting worse.”

“Mom, what can we do for you?”

“Before I used to get sick, and then get better.  Now I get worse.”

“We’re trying, mom.”

“We had this discussion before, Julienne.”

“Mom, I know you said you never wanted you to live like this.  All we can do is pray.”

“Should I pray He takes me?”

“Let’s just pray.”

After lunch Jamie snapped a photo of mom and me:



He said his goodbyes.  Mom told him that she loved him with all her heart. 

Mom and I headed to her bedroom where she changed her top for a warm pink turtleneck.  Her hands were still cold.  We walked down the hall to sit in her chair.  Mom complained that she hurts under her ribs when she breaths. 

I spoke both to her hospice nurse, Dana*, and her regular nurse, Billie*.  Dana asked mom to come with her, I followed.  She checked mom to see if she had a mass or anything we could feel under her ribs.  Neither of us felt anything.  Mom mentioned her pain is intensified when she is lying down in bed.  Dana* said she would have someone check when mom goes to bed to see if they feel anything. 

When we walked back to our reclining chairs, Billie* brought mom some Tylenol for her pain.

Before I left, I asked Dana* if there is anything else we can do for mom.  She told me we are just trying to make her comfortable.  I said, “Mom is anything, but comfortable.”

Mom and I still blow each kisses each time I leave . . . this still makes her smile, me too!