keeping her safe

She falls.

Quite often Mother falls. Sometimes the damage done is more serious than at other times. She forgets she can not walk, gets up from her wheel chair and downs she tumbles, hard.  Such was the case this week and her face took a beating.

The girls and I visited with her and wheeled her chair outside to the bright and sunny patio. She smiled and said it was warm.

We watched the fish in the pond and drew her attention to the azaleas in bloom. As long as I am with her I know she is safe. I am learning how to apply the locks to her wheelchair, to keep my eyes on her at all times and to remind her not to get up.

Cheerleading

Mother is not interested in any sort of restorative physical therapy. Consequently, she is getting harder and harder to assist in getting around outside her wheelchair.

I have become her daily cheerleader.

I work with a physical therapist in encouraging mother to cooperate and participate in simple walking steps with her walker and mild leg exercises. Yesterday she became so agitated with me she stated," I did not make you do these things. This is a terrible way to treat someone."

Not giving up. She would not have given up on me either.

epiphany

Grief, it has no mercy. Like a gong it reverberates long after being hit.

In the wee hours I was aroused this morning. An ephiphany of sorts stirred in my mind. I have been  deeply grieving because  I could not provide the particular kind of care for my mother that I did for my father...in my home. Constantly it has been a truth that has squeezed me inside and out. But the fact of the matter is I have been really grieving the sad condition my mother's disease has wrought. 

A bud that has deep roots.

ageless beauty

She wears plastic beads around her neck and chipping pink nail polish on her nails. Most of her everyday jewelry has disappeared, so the cheap bright colored beads must suffice. Looking pretty, it's ageless. 

  Yet we know beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder.

 Rose and I went over this evening to do her nails. We pulled the little tray table over to her wheel chair and she posed her hands prettily on the tray.  She sat still while the coral pink polish was smoothed over her nails. I have discovered these little acts of service help us too. We ache to do so much more.