Mom’s Mothers’ Day hanging basket of flowers looks beautiful, if I do say so myself. Hubby and I selected quite a variety of flowers that can survive in direct sunlight, and found some unusual specimens for Mom to enjoy. Once planted, we looked around for Mom’s watering can. It was then that I remembered that the can we got her last year sprung a leak at the seam. Subsequent similar watering cans had the same problem. Not a big issue if you fill your watering can outside, but to carry it down the hall and out the door leaves a trail of water. So, on my next trip down, I stopped at a local garden store to find a watering can that would fit in their sink to fill, and not be too heavy when full of water. Dad can’t really be trusted to carry the watering can without trying to water, well, everything on the way outside.
I found the cutest selection. They had pig and elephant and frog shaped watering cans as well as traditional types with handles and spouts. I chose an elephant shaped can with an agreement from the shop owner that if it didn’t fit in Mom’s sink, I could bring it back for a full refund.
When I presented the can to Mom, she said, “What a cute elephant!” I was so pleased that she recognized the animal and called it by name. She continues to call it an elephant now a few weeks later. I don’t know what I expected her to call it, but, for her to recognize and name correctly was a pleasant surprise.
Later that day, Mom had an appointment to have her port flushed. When we entered the waiting room, it was unusually full. There was a man with a mustache sitting in the chair nearest the door to the exam rooms, and a young child waiting for his mother to finish her paperwork at the reception window. Dad gravitated to the child, and it was all I could do to keep him from lifting the child into his arms. I body blocked him as much as I could, and held him off balance enough that he couldn’t pick up the child, but I had to enlist the help of the mother to get the child out of Dad’s reach. The presence of the child distracted Dad enough that he didn’t notice the man with the mustache.
Since the main waiting room was full, we were directed to sit in another waiting area – a room previously used as a hospital room. Mom was not disturbed by being sent to an unfamiliar room, but wondered why we had never gone in there before. I explained that we are usually seen so quickly, it’s not worth even finding a seat.
In this waiting room sat a rather large teenage boy with very long, unruly hair. Dad, of course, thought the kid was a girl. Before sitting down, Dad noticed the mirror over the sink and wondered if that guy over there could see the girl? That conversation continued until the kid was called away by his father. He looked relieved to be gone from Dad’s constant badgering of that guy in the mirror to turn and see that girl. I was thankful that the kid was polite and didn’t say anything unkind to, or about, Dad.
When Mom’s turn was called, we re-entered the main waiting area, where the mustachioed man still sat right next to the door back to the exam rooms. Before we got halfway across the room, I cautioned the man to, “Please cover your mustache. Dad will try to grab it. I am NOT kidding!” That elicited snickers from people sitting nearby, but very quickly turned into uncomfortable silence when Dad rushed at the man’s face, hands outstretched, grabbing. I threw myself in front of Dad and used my entire body to physically push him out of reach of the man and attempt to coral him through the door. Dad dodged and weaved and reached around and over me while I body blocked and finally hugged his arms to his sides. We made it through the door, finally, after the man turned his face away from Dad.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Mom’s exam went as usual, with one exception. Instead of her weight and temperature being the same, she was running a slight fever. Her blood pressure has been a bit elevated lately, also. I asked the nurse if she thought this blood pressure trend should be concerning enough to get Mom on some blood pressure medicine. She checked Mom’s 6 month history and noticed the same trend. Start of appointment, blood pressure a little high at 145/95-ish. End of appointment, blood pressure hovering just below 138/80. We decided that it would be a good idea to get Mom started on some blood pressure medicine as soon as possible. Mom had an appointment coming up with her general practitioner in a few days, so I asked the nurse to forward her last 6 month blood pressures to the doctor.
With the port flush done, we headed back to the waiting room. Me guiding Dad, instructing Mom which way to turn, coaching her to lead the way so Dad would follow. As the nurse opened the door to the waiting room, I saw the man with the mustache bolt from his chair and run down the hall, covering his face with his hands. I… lost it. Oh, my gosh, the laughter and giggles! His sudden explosion startled many of the people in the waiting room and caused the receptionists to burst into giggling fits. Neither of the receptionists, nor I, could gain our composure enough to even discuss future appointments for a full minute.
Then I noticed, standing down the hall, was the man with the mustache, and the mother with her small child. Mustache was pleading with the mother to just wait there with him until Dad had left the waiting room.
Well, there’s one room full of people who will not soon forget that incident. One room full of people who will absolutely understand the cautionary, “I am NOT kidding!” And, one man who will often remember how his mustache taught him to fly.
As we walked back to the car, we passed the petunias and other flowers in the flowerbeds and borders along the sidewalks of the hospital. Dad said he thought they were beautiful. When we got back to the facility, Dad took me straight to their window to point out the flowers hanging in the basket right outside. He called them pretty and beautiful and then said, “These are prettier than those other flowers.”
Well, that’s a pretty abstract thought for someone as advanced in Alzheimer’s as Dad is.
Mom, not to be outdone, got out her new watering can and said, “This will work like a real elephant with water coming out of its nose.” I suggested she give it a try before I left. I wanted to make sure she could carry it full of water and that it didn’t spring any leaks. I was also worried that as she walked she might swing it enough for water to slosh out of the spout. She filled it and carried it with no mishaps, and was able to use it to water her flowers.
As they walked me out to the car, Dad pointed to the flower beds in front of the facility and said, “Pretty. My wife is prettier. I love you. Thanks for driving.”
I decided to ask my cousins if they could recall any stories their parents may have told of someone they knew as kids who had mustaches or beards or both. No one could think of any stories, but, I had the unfortunate opportunity to follow that up myself at a funeral just a week later. Dad’s Aunt passed away from Alzheimer’s on May 20th. I chose not to tell Mom about Aunt passing away or about the funeral. The names of Dad’s Aunt and Mom’s Aunt are close enough that I feared it would cause confusion. I could see a future of phone calls with Mom… Her telling me that her Aunt was alive and well, that she’d just seen her at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and questioning just whose funeral did we go to? It wasn’t something I felt I needed to subject myself or Mom to, so, I left it unreported.
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Tags: Alzheimer's, Alzheimer's care, caregiver, caring for elderly parents, elder care, senior care
May 31, 2011 at 1:21 pm |
You have the most exciting excursions with your parents! hahahaha!
I don’t blame you for withholding the death of the Aunt. We have to be selective when it comes to our parents state of mind.
If there’s no harm/no foul, it’s best to leave it alone.