Mom,
Monday, October 3, 2011 (Kathy’s oral
support) and Tuesday, October 4 (my report).
Dear
Kathy and Suzy,
I’m sorry that today wasn’t as good
a day as yesterday. When I got home, I
was too tired to write. But now I can.
When I stopped by to show you the
invitation, Kathy, it was good to hear that Mom had had a good day on Monday,
when Tenzin (please correct my spelling!) was reading to the group in his
quiet, reassuring way, and Mom invited you to listen too. Then you said today you’d gotten a message
from Mom asking you to call her, that Tina knew where you were-- in a place in
San Francisco.
When I entered around 2:00, Mom, who
was sitting in the dining room with Bob and one of the aides, seemed really relieved to see me, but it was
clear that she wasn’t sure where she was.
When I asked whether she’d like to go to her room, she said yes, and
whispered something in my ear like “You’ve come none too soon.” But she was having trouble finding her words,
and she stammered a little bit.
On our way down the hall she said,
“Now, the first thing you’ve got to do is go to the bathroom.”
When we entered her room, she said,
“This isn’t where we’re supposed to be.”
I said, “Yes, this is your new
room.”
She lay down on her bed and said, “I
wish I were dead.”
I said, “I’m sorry to hear that,
Mom, because we love you so much.”
She said, “You’d better go to the
bathroom right away.”
I told her I had gone already, and
she said, “Well, how was it? Did it turn
out the way you hoped it would?”
I said, “Yes. It was just what I had hoped it would be,”
and she said, “Well, mine wasn’t.”
She asked me what it was called, what she had,
that made going to the bathroom a problem.
I said, “Diverticulitis?” And she said, “Write that down. And it’s not my exodus. But the word.
What’s the word you kids used when you were little kids for going to the
bathroom?” Now I realize she might have meant poop, but I said, “Number
two?” and she said, “Yes.” Write that
down.”
But she didn’t go to the
bathroom—not at all, the whole time I was there
(which wasn’t as long as last time).
She told me a couple more times that I needed to go. She also asked me where I’d picked her up and
where she would be tomorrow, she hoped.
When I said the words “beautiful Aegis,”
she wanted me to write that down too.
She lay down on the bed, and she
drank a lot of the chocolate milk shake I gave her, but she didn’t want to
snuggle (or even see my muscles). I
asked her about doing a crossword puzzle, and she seemed to think that was a
better idea.
Then Doris came in, and after I
said, “Hi, Doris. Mom, it’s Doris, your
new roommate.” Mom said hello to her
too, and then Doris sat down on the sofa and Mom said, “Wouldn’t you like to
put your feet up? Wouldn’t you like to
have the whole couch?”
Doris nodded, and I got up to move a couple of things to make
it easier for her, and Doris hugged me and took my hand, squeezed it and kissed
it. She said something that sounded enough
like “I love you” that I told her I loved her too. But she didn’t’ put her feet up on the sofa
and she didn’t want to lie down on her bed.
I went back and sat down on the bed
beside Mom, and she told me in a concerned way, “Let’s talk to Doris.”
I said, “Doris’s a really sweet
person,” and Mom said, “Yes, she’s the sweetest person here, I think.”
Shortly after that, Doris left, and
Mom and I did a crossword puzzle. I had
to give her fairly broad hints (as well as cheat myself by looking at the
answer page), but occasionally she’d come up with a bigger word than the
mostly-four-letter words they were asking.
But when we were only about two-thirds done, she said, “I think you
should probably take the crossword puzzle book home and do it in the privacy of
your own chamber because I don’t think I can stay awake until we finish
it.”
I asked her whether she wanted to
just take a nap, and she said, “I’m good for another few minutes.”
So we finished the puzzle, and she
was coughing quite a bit, but I knew they had her on antibiotics, so I didn’t
say anything.
I tried to show Mom the invitation
to get her acquainted with the room, and she said, “That’s nice.”
I asked her about the pictures on
the wall in the invitation. “Do you
recognize the pictures?” and she said, “Yes, it’s my ballerina picture,” or
something like that—something that showed she could both see and recognize that
picture.
She read the date and said, “That’s
going to be fun.”
She took her teeth out and asked me
to look for her yellow container. I got
it for her, and she put her teeth in.
I told her that I loved her, and she
said, “I love you too. You’ve made my
day,” and I told her she’d made my day too, which she had.
It was also really good to see you,
Kathy, and thank you for the muffin and cheese.
Sometime while I was there, Rocsana
came in with Mom’s two pills, and Mom thanked her.
I hope tomorrow’s visit with the
doctor goes okay. It’s good that Nan can
go with you.
I’ll see you on Sunday—and I’ll correct
the zip code on the invitation right now!
Love,
Tina
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