Tonight's picture was taken in April of 2009. Given that Mattie was wearing clothes, and not pajamas, I know that this had to be a hospital admission day! Mattie refused to wear clothes once admitted to the hospital, and I did not fight his request. That evening, the fabulous musical duo of Jerry and Nancy came to visit us. They were playing a musical game with Mattie, in which he had to move his body to the music. For the most part, Mattie did not like the volunteers and did not let them even come in his room. But there were a handful of people Mattie did enjoy seeing despite how he was feeling. What I do know was singing along with Jerry and Nancy made all of us feel a little better.
Quote of the day: In order to write about life first you must live it. ~ Ernest Hemingway
It is 6:45pm, and I feel like I went four rounds today. For no particular reason other than the simple daily tasks I perform. I got up early because I had to get both of my parents out the door by 9:15am. I can't tell you just how challenging that is to accomplish! My mom especially can't manage early mornings. My dad frankly doesn't know if it is morning or night!
I haven't been providing nanny camera updates, but my dad is still up and down at night and spends practically 90 minutes or more sitting on the toilet. Watching my dad's daily decline is beyond depressing and as he slips further and further into his cognitive fog, I feel that in a way it takes yet an unrecorded mental toll on me.
This morning, I went back to the pulmonologist's office. This time, it was for an appointment for my dad. He had to undergo a breathing test, which he did not like one bit. Ironically in 2005, my parents sold their house in Los Angeles and relocated to Washington, DC to live closer to us. They lasted here three months and then returned back to Los Angeles. My dad at the time was having issues with the cold weather and was coughing non-stop. They told me the pulmonologist recommended that they go back to living on the West Coast for my dad's health. Since I wasn't part of this dialogue, I just accepted this pronouncement.
Now that I am older and wiser, I realize that most physicians probably wouldn't tell a patient such a thing, particularly because physicians understand the value of having family nearby as their older patients age. So now looking back at what transpired in 2005, I am furthered bothered by my parent's decision. After all, this was the time they could have spent with Mattie, watching him grow up, and be a part of his and our lives. Certainly if they had remained living here with us in 2005, it would have made this transition now much easier. Because they would have potentially made new friends, got engaged in activities, and learned to drive and navigate around our area. Now it is too late, and instead, I have become everything from nurse, cook, housekeeper, coordinator of activities and appointments, and chauffer.
The funny part about all of this is my dad got an excellent report from the pulmonologist. Certainly his lung functioning isn't great, but given his age and the fact that he is hunched over, this is no surprise. Nonetheless, the doctor wants me to schedule a CT of my dad's lungs so we have a baseline report, in case he should get ill or something arises. Now trying to get my dad flat on a table for a CT scan will be EXTREMELY stressful but yet another thing I will have to confront and manage.
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