Log in

No account? Create an account
02 June 2010 @ 10:04 pm
[life] organization  
During dinner tonight, Mom said she told her nurse about the schedule I worked out with Dad and two of my sisters, so Mom is never alone during mealtime. The nurse thought this was just the sweetest, most clever thing ever. I was surprised that she was so touched and amazed by it.

A) Mom needs help. Dad can't do it all, nor should he do it all. Therefore my siblings and I pitch in. This is what our family does, and it doesn't feel like anything special.

B) Organizing the schedule of meals was the easiest thing I've done this week. It's simple and logical and the best way to keep track of who needs to be where when. (I plugged everything into my calendar, too, of course, and get an email update each morning reminding me what I need to do and who is with Mom when, even though I also have the schedule memorized.) I don't understand why it's such a clever thing to do.

In other news, we're having gorgeous lightning, thunderstorms, potential flooding, and tornadoes. I am actually mostly thrilled by this. I've been saying for three years that I missed good old Midwest storms and I really have.

Stress level: HIGH. I almost bit off Jake's head when he asked how my bar studying went today. Perhaps I should figure out a way to bring that stress level down a bit.
Current Mood: stressedstressed
Vanilla  ... Spiked with Slivovitz: queen latifah by fooish iconsjenna_thorn on June 3rd, 2010 08:57 am (UTC)
Nurses have become used to patients without emotional support networks. When the Amazon was hospitalized, I was there every day until she was discharged. The first day, the doctor introduced himself and explained all of her issues when I asked, professionally cool. I introduced myself to her room nurse, and took over ice chip duty, so he explained where the juice boxes were and left me to it.

The second day, the nurses looked up with a surprised smile when I bopped in and waved at them as I headed from the elevator to her room and they teased me as I walked with her, one arm around her waist, my off side hand on her elbow, step by slow step on her mandated exercise, a staggering lap around the floor, trailing her iv.

The third day, they called me by name and praised her progress as though she truly were my daughter.

In the almost week she was there, of the other patients in the ward, maybe two rooms had regular visitors, and only one had a repeated face from day to day, a daughter. As you visit your mother, notice how few of the other rooms have cards, balloons, those stuffies with sloganed t-shirts or even visitors. That's why the nurses respond positively to you. You make their job easier.

It's heartbreaking that we should be the exception and not the rule.