Expectations Shift

Today a service/delivery person from Apria, one of the oxygen equipment suppliers in town, came in to service Mom's oxygen concentrator.  He was a grad from the University of Oregon, taking an MBA from UAF.  He was thorough.  He made sure the pressure ball was the right size - it had not been.  He made sure she had new tubing - the cat had eaten through what we had and no oxygen was being delivered.  He gave me no smoking/oxygen in use signs - two, one for inside the apartment and one to place near the oxygen storage area.  He chastised me for having gasoline tanks near the oxygen tanks - for which I was grateful because I had wanted to move them out earlier; I put on my coat and carried them to the detached garage.

After he left, for one brief moment, I had a feeling of hope.  Maybe this would help Mom regain some of her sensibilities; afterall, he did say she had not been receiving oxygen for some time because the ball size was wrong and had been that way since the last servicing.  But that flame soon died.  For the longest time at every improvement we made to her living situation, I would see it as possibly "the thing" that got Mom back on track so she could participate at FRA more, so she would be more conscious at home about what she was doing,  so she would remember more things and enjoy more of her life.  And in those days, improvements did seem to impact things for a little while.

But today, I simply let the thought drift out and float away, like a cartoon bubble that escaped the comic strip. Whatever improvement the servicing does for her, will be offset by something other aspect of her decline.  I know that sounds depressing.  Perhaps the lack of sunlight has affected my mood - it is still the depths of winter with little light, so it is possible I am more bleak in outlook than usual.  But the fact is that I have seen adjustments to her situation over the last 6 months that have helped her comfort and energy level, but have not noticeably slowed the progression of her decline.

Marilyn called @ 5:00 tonight, having brought her back from FRA @ 4:30 as usual.  She wasn't eating, Marilyn told me.  She hadn't eaten her lunch either.  She wouldn't cooperate in putting on her pajamas. She said she didn't feel well.  She said her stomach hurt.

I went down and Mom was lying on her bed fully dressed.  My being there seemed to help.  We got her out of her clothes and into her pull ups and PJs.  Marilyn was able to coax her into surrendering her teeth (after I reminded her that she needed to have them cleaned).  I was actually thinking that if she was coming down with what I had starting Christmas day, she might start vomiting and I didn't want loose dentures as a possible source of choking.

Christmas Day, after everyone had left, I lost my dinner and probably what I'd eaten for sometime - whatever it was affected the entire intestinal tract.  It has been occurring to many disparate people who live very different life styles, so I finally ruled out food poisoning.  My belly didn't cramp like food poisoning.  Mom's former care giver and one child also had it and her husband now does.  But Gary and the rest of the family are just fine .. so I did take her comment about a stomach ache seriously.

After we got her in bed I asked how she felt.  She said fine.  Did her stomach hurt?  No.

Now the extent of my every day hope is along more simple lines.  I hope she does not start vomiting and have diarrhea like I did.  I slept through most of two days and although now able to eat without issue, don't seem to want anything.  We would most likely have to hospitalize her as we wouldn't be able to keep her hydrated - that challenges us under every day circumstances.

As she closed her eyes, I looked over at her.  She was ashen - so frail.  My greatest hope now is that we can continue to find ways to ensure her comfort and that her life remains peaceful through what remains.