Gravity Falls

I'm sitting in Muletown Coffee in Columbia for a quite minute or two before a mediation that I suspect will last all day.  I love coming down here for work, especially on a day as beautiful as this one.

I had a long talk with my sister, Tracy, about my mom late last week.  She's declining fairly rapidly.  She has developed a pressure ulcer on her lower back or butt which, as I understand it, is caused by her being wheelchair bound.  I'm sure her sleeping in a chair doesn't help.  Medicare won't pay for physical therapy because her condition has plateaued.  As a result, she rarely stands and is sitting all of the time.  Thus, the pressure ulcer.

The bigger problem is that the pressure ulcer will rupture and become infected at some point.  That likely will be a game changer and may result in my mom being transferred to a different part of the facility with even less freedom than she has now.  Depressing in part because it's apparently inevitable.

NHC Place may have a hospital bed we could put in her room.  We'd have to remove the daybed, of course.  The hope would be that she would lay in the hospital bed for a little while each day to take the pressure off her butt.  Sadly, I can't see her doing that because she doesn't like to lay down.  As usual with Alzheimer's and the way the disease ravages the mind and body, there are questions but no answers.  

Switching gears, JP and I had a nice visit with my mom on Sunday afternoon.  When we arrived, she was watching television with Wanda, one of the caregivers.  She was agitated, though, and remained the way as we rolled her, in her wheelchair, outside in the courtyard to give her some fresh air.  I gave her a cookie I picked up that morning from 8th & Roast, a neighborhood coffee shop.

As she ate the cookie and stared at JP, my mom visibly perked up.  Like the son peeking out from behind a cloud, she began smiling.  I saw a little bit of her personality - what little there may be left - as she reached out to JP and held his hand, talking to him quietly.  Ever the concerned grandparent, she repeatedly asked him if he was warm enough or if he wanted a bite of her cookie.

I'm not sure JP ever will realize how much it means to me for him to occasionally accompany me on these visits to see my mom.  He'll be grateful, one day, that he spent a few minutes here or there with her in her last conscious day, I think.  It's a comfort to me to have him there, especially because his presence seems to stir a part of my mom's soul and bring her personality back to life, albeit briefly.

Now, off to work.  It's time to think about someone else's problems.