Horses and Zebras

I haven't been giving Betty her Aricept (Alzheimer's treatment) for almost a week. Her VA doctor wondered if doubling the dose might have caused her upset stomach at the rehab center. The doctor said that after they doubled it, the problem would have taken time to develop, and maybe that's what was happening. So when she came home from rehab and almost instantly complained of the same thing, we talked and I suggested we experiment with it.

Then Betty's OTHER doctor diagnosed flu, and gave her anti-nausea drugs for it. So maybe that was the problem. It wouldn't explain her nausea at the rehab center though. So I'm continuing with the Aricept experiment until Betty is free from nausea for several days, then I'm going to put her back on the original low dose, and if the nausea comes back, we're going to discontinue it.

You know the old saying, "When you hear hooves, think horses, not zebras." ? Well, around here it's usually both.

Back to Reality

Betty came home last week, but I must admit, she's trying very hard not to cause problems. I have the wonderful Kim K. coming to drive her adult day care and take her to the bookstore and other such places, and she has turned out to be a Godsend. She used to work at my mother's Assisted Living center, and I had no idea she'd left their because of the stress. We ran into each other just before Christmas, and I mentioned that I needed a new driver for Betty. She expressed interest, but then the company I'd called about this contacted me to say they'd found someone to fill the position.

I wasn't sure what to do, but decided to hire Kim, in spite of the fact that she doesn't have a corporate structure around her. She's more flexible, and happy to help me in other ways, like shopping, etc.

So when Betty started with vomiting and diarrhea just days after coming home, threw up at the adult day center, and had to come home early, Kim helped me handle it. It has turned out to be flu, and so far, Mikey is the only one who hasn't caught it. Betty made a mess on her floor and bed yesterday, and I felt sorry for her--she kept saying, "I'll go back to the rehab center. I know I have to go back. You can send me back."

Devonna, the home health aid who now comes three times a week, was here yesterday morning and discovered the mess. She helped me clean it up, then Kim took Betty to the doctor for me, shopped for her medicine, Gatorade, etc. I was still feeling lousy from my bout with the flu, so I just laid on the couch, did Betty's laundry, and felt sorry for myself. Not the worst morning I've had...

Betty has started putting her pills in the pockets of her clothing, intending to "take them later," so we have to watch for this behavior, but aside from that, oh, and coming out of her room in only a tee shirt this morning (thank God Mikey was still at a birthday party sleepover), life goes on as usual.

Happy Hanukkah to Me

Well, I'm going to hell for sure, but what a nice month+ it's been. Betty's respiratory stuff just wasn't going away, and in early November, she got so weak that we took her to the emergency room. I won't make you sit through the play-by-play, but she ended up with a diagnosis of pneumonia and had her gall bladder taken out. Turns out that her stomach aches were the result of gallstones. After the surgery, they put her in a rehab center to get stronger, and all these weeks later, she's still not home. I have to admit it's been a nice break, but I suspect it's nearly over.

So since November 9, I've had to deal with multiple doctors, bring her books, make semi-regular visits, etc., but I haven't had to deal with her dentures, meds, complaints (well some of them), semi-dressed state of nakedness, etc. So I'll burn in hell for enjoying her hospital stay, but I'M ENJOYING IT.

There, I said it. BRING ON THE DIVINE RETRIBUTION. BRING IT.

It's Good to be Immune

Betty has been telling anybody who will listen, as well as the rest of us, that she's immune to cold and flu viruses. So when she gets a hacking cough, runny nose, and a sore throat, like she has now had for four days, a cranky person like myself has to ask herself one important question:

DO I BURST HER "I'M A MEDICAL MIRACLE" BUBBLE, OR BE MATURE AND LET IT GO.

I'll let you know what I decide.

Birthday Surprises

Betty turns 85 today. I was gone most of the day yesterday (took sick Korean host daughter to doctor, after taking my mom to the podiatrist), and when I came home between bringing Mikey home from his soccer practice and driving back to pick up Sami from her soccer practice, I went in to check on Betty.

"I need a sheet," she said.

I looked at her bed, which seemed well-sheeted to me.

"I need a sheet."

"Clean sheets?"

"I need a sheet."

I'll skip the next few minutes and get right to the part where I figure out she means a sheet CAKE. Today is her 85th birthday, and yesterday she wanted to make sure I had purchased a cake to take to the Senior Center. I had already bought one, but she insisted it was too small. She'd been told she could bring a "sheet cake" to share with the staff and clients, and was sure they meant a full sheet cake.

"Just order me another one," she said.

I get full credit for not exploding on the spot, as I had exactly 30 minutes to deal with this. I ran to Kroger, had them decorate another cake to add to the one I had already bought, raced over to the soccer fields, and picked up Sami. So Betty is taking two cakes today...

Happy Birthday.

Dean Martin and Death

This is one of those mornings when Betty vacilates between longing for the tranquility of The Big Sleep and hoping her Dean Martin DVD's arrive soon.

Acknowledging My Limitations

I've been hearing radio ads for "Senior Helpers," so last week David finally called them. I think he could see that I was losing it. Just the stress of wondering how each morning is going to be--especially Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, when MIL is supposed to go to the adult day care that the VA pays for (God love them), has been making me perpetually angry. Some mornings she gets up and goes without much fuss, and other mornings it's hours of nagging (from me) and procrastinating (from her). Now that my mother is in Assisted Living and doesn't have a drivers license, I have to take her places as well, and the stress of trying to combine these duties and keep to a schedule wears me out. I start stressing the night before, wondering if it's going to work, and wake up already crabby at MIL.

So Senior Helpers is coming on Mondays and Wednesdays, they'll get her up and dressed, DRIVE HER TO THE SENIOR CENTER, and PICK HER UP IN THE AFTERNOON AND BRING HER HOME! We're using some of Betty's money to pay for it, which seems reasonable to me, as this may prevent my psychotic break and keep her alive.