The Party's Over
The next step after finding a sunny room in long-term care for Mom was naturally furnishing it. She'd overnighted in the new place on Thursday, and Friday afternoon at 2, the team I had gathered invaded the sparsely furnished space, determined to make this room seem as much Hazel's own space as possible. I'd hired Hunter and Will for their muscle, and Carol joined us for her "designer" eye to help with hanging art and arranging the room. The first thing we did was to survey her room, tossing out all existing dorm-like furniture, bulletin board, etc. We did keep the bed provided, as it is lower to the ground, just in case Mom decides to tumble out of it. We then strode across the parking lot to Mom's apartment and perused it--looking for smaller pieces to create a seating area and dining area.
Carol chose wall decor, Will and Hunter moved two comfy chairs, the TV and stand, drop-leaf table, two dining chairs, and a round table and lamps. After arranging the furniture in Mom's room to provide comfort, yet enough space to move, we hooked up the TV, hung pictures and a tapestry from Ecuador. We moved in plants, debated whether to add curtains to soften the roller-shade, and made plans on how to incorporate more storage space in the bathroom.
After three hours, we were nearly finished and I was excited about the transformation the room was going through. My jubilation, however, was not mirrored in Hazel. "This is my new apartment?" she asked. "It is!" I answered, feigning energy and enthusiasm. "Well, why did I have to move?" she wondered. I again explained the need to stay off her left leg for two weeks and that this smaller room would help her navigate better as she recovered. The old Kepple scowl was her only reply.
Saturday was another gorgeous day--another 60 sunny degrees, so very rare for March 12 in Minnesota. But how thankful I was that in all the moving, we had been freshened by a breeze as we crossed the parking lot, instead of frozen by the windchill.
Uncle Bill's 96th birthday celebration was scheduled for 3 pm. in the GSam cafeteria, and I got to Mom's room about 1, hung a few more pictures, tidied up a bit, and got Mom ready for the party.
We decided earrings were a must, and as Mom hadn't worn earring for months, it took some doing to find the holes in her ear lobes. But once they were in, it was clear the hassle was worth it. Nice shiny dangling metal gave Mom a needed "umpf."
Needing to use the bathroom before the party, we pushed the call button for an aid to help Mom, since that dang left leg was now unusable and I wasn't able to help her into the bathroom. We waited. Pushed the button. Pushed it again. Finally I tramped out to the nurses' desk and asked for some help. "Here comes your aid right now," was the answer, and a tired looking waif sauntered past into Mom's room. We'd waiting nearly 5 minutes. The recommended toileting method was using a bed pan, so....
Afterwards, I helped pull up Mom's pants more snugly and was about to have her stand and pivot on her right foot to get into the wheelchair, when the nurse popped in and announced Mom had to use the "Hoyer" and be lifted from the bed into the wheelchair. Following the doctor's orders was prudent and necessary. Since Mom weighs less than 100 lbs., in 30 seconds I'd have had her in the chair and zooming down the hall to Bill's party, but....
Another 5 minutes passed before the Hoyer, a nurse and an assistant had Mom enveloped in a sling. After crossing her arms in front of her, Mom was lifted off the bed, swung toward the wheelchair, and deposited there. Well done. It struck me Mom hadn't even washed her hands after using the bedpan, but maybe hand washing wasn't needed, since Mom had been aided in that endeavor? Oh my. So many questions I had.
Uncle Bill's party was joyful--about 20 well-wishers, cake, ice cream and balloons. Mom seemed to enjoy herself, as many of her friends were present. As we left, she had a special moment where she grasped Bill's hand and said, "And many more..." Bill smiled back.
Reaching Hazel's room was like navigating a river filled with floating detritus. Wheelchairs and carts lined the halls. Accordion music blasted out one door, a moan came from another. Nurses in scrubs (most of them obese--sorry, but it's true) worked in their stations and when we reached Hazel's room, I quickly shut the door--shut out the noise pollution from the hall and other rooms. Whew.
Because it was getting late in the day of a very long week, I wasn't as patient as I wanted to be with Mom's question about "Well, where's a refrigerator? I can't not have a refrigerator. What about butter? What about milk?" I tried to explain she really didn't need either of those items since she was being given three meals a day. "Well how do I pay for that?" she wondered. I explained it was included in the price of the room, a real deal.
But the question that really got to me was, "Did I REALLY have to leave my apartment?" Her voice was nearly child-like, filled with wonder and a bit of a whine. But actually, I was wondering the exact thing. After two weeks of doctor's orders and staying off that leg, what WAS the advantage of living in such a place? At least the old apartment afforded Mom loving care. Oh my. Time to re-think all this.
