Tonight picture was taken on August 16, 2008. Mattie began treatment about two weeks prior and this particular day was NOT good emotionally. Mattie's friends dropped off a giant bubble kit and Peter got Mattie outside to try it! These gifts were amazing diversions for us and frankly I am not sure how we would have survived without Team Mattie. These gifts enabled us even for a brief moment in time to change the mood and forget our fears and worries. Naturally this did not last long, but sitting in fear, stress, and anxiety all day long wasn't sustainable, and these gifts provided the necessary outlets to survive.
Quote of the day: Realize that if you have time to whine and complain about something, then you have the time to do something about it. ~ Anthony J. D’Angelo
Though I appreciate tonight's quote, I can't seem to follow the author's advice. On the other hand, I can't say I lament and whine on a regular basis. I am just too tired to do that, but even though I have a lot on my plate and could complain, I am not sure there are any clear solutions to resolve my stress.
So far I have had a very full day. Yet despite being constantly busy I am unable to get my dad to do his in-home PT and OT exercises and for the last two days, I can't even get him to meet his 1,000 step daily walk goal. So I am frustrated. There is only one of me and both of my parents need constant support.
After I got my dad up, washed, and dressed, and he finished breakfast, I took him to his memory care center. When I got back to the house, I had to get my mom in the car because she had a physical therapy session. I think my mom is coming to some understanding that she has a significant problem. She always loved to walk. Last night after dinner, she wanted to walk in the backyard, on our stone patio. The physical therapist has told my mom that walking inside is much easier than outside, so now my mom has it in her mind that she needs to walk outside. All great and wonderful, but with this she needs support and supervision.
So after loading the dinner dishes into the dishwasher last evening, I ran outside to walk with my mom. She had to hold onto me for the entire walk. I have begun to encourage her to use a can, but she refuses. My goal is to confront the physical therapists next week and ask them to come up with some strategies for us to implement at home to assist my mom with her balance and walking.
After therapy, I came home for an hour to unload the dishwasher, fold and put away everyone's laundry, and of course I am also balancing Sunny and his antibiotic and chemotherapy regimen. I honestly do not know some days what I am doing first. Once these chores were done, I got my mom in the car and we went to pick my dad up from his memory care center and I took them out for a late lunch.
I am not the kind of person who likes to eat out very often. But with my parents, there is no winning. Whether I cook at home or go out, it is almost equal the amount of work. While Peter is traveling, we do go out everyday, because it prevents my dad from sitting around the house and it forces him to move his body and interact with the world. Eating out is his best form of therapy and food is the only thing that motivates him. It is a sad commentary.
If you were to observe my dad, what you would experience is a very self focused and demanding individual. He has NO insight into how any one else is doing or feeling, but is adapt at getting his needs and demands met. It is exhausting and at time aggravating. Eating with my dad is sickening, because he gulps down food and then watches me eat, as to hurry me along (newsflash, I am a slow eater, but I can't eat at my own pace, because as soon as he finishes, I have to take him to the bathroom). He also doesn't like us talking to the servers because it takes up time and he is solely about consuming food and leaving. It truly is a very depressing way to live. I remind myself all the time that this is the result of having dementia, but there is no break for me, because if I am not dealing with my dad, the rest assured I am dealing with my mom.
No comments:
Post a Comment