primarycaregiver2022

  "Quarter to ten, I guess I better get to bed." "You are already in bed, Mom." "Oh! I'm already in bed." Chuckles. "I'm only half awake." "Night night, Mom."

  I was surprised when I was making the crow drawing that I chose to build the form with red pencil crayon.  Mom had gone down for a rest in her room. I was sitting at the kitchen table having coffee with Matt, talking about the impact of Mom's recent visit to the doctor. Thinking about time, eternity, and what we are going to do today. Mom came out of her room with her overcoat half on, "Help me, Jenny, I am stuck. I want to go sit outside." Red is such a powerful colour, symbolic of life, passion, energy. I moved quickly to her side and helped her get her coat up onto her shoulder. Mom turned to go outside. As she pivoted toward the door I realized she was losing her balance and starting to go down. I threw my arms around her in a bear hug and held on, keeping my balance as her weight shifted against me. As I felt her weight transfer back to her feet, I could feel her steady and stand up straighter.  Now I leaned on Mom, burying my head on her shoulder, a sob escaped as...

  Prepare for flight. The doctor's appointment was at 10:30 am, about a 10 minute drive. I started to get Mom ready at 9:30 am so she was all dressed and ready to go out in her wheelchair at 10 am. My brother arrived and wheeled Mom out to the car. We found an easy parking spot and were in the office on time. Doctor saw us right away. A very smooth trip from home to doctor's office. Mom was able to handle getting in and out of the car, not easily, but without too much pain and no stumbles or falls (!). The first thing Doctor noticed was the skin on Mom's forehead, which I thought was dry but it turns out is a kind of cancer. He applied dry ice to the problem areas. He asked if there were any other skin anomalies to look at. I remembered a couple of spots on Mom's arms, and Doctor identified two more kinds of cancer.  He gave us a referral to a Dermatologist, and said it would not be too difficult to take care of these problems. The lump on Mom's neck is concerning a...

  Crow steps out from the known to the unknown. I have been struggling with the issues of privacy and ethics weighed against the importance of telling stories from the front lines of caregiving. If we don't have thoughtful first-hand accounts of this work, it will never be understood. Government leadership, policy makers and health executives experience the complexity themselves.  I have started a practice of reading my writing to Mom and discussing our story toward the greater good of building community and bringing comfort to those who labour in isolation in their work as family caregivers. It was a revelation to read my writing for this post to Mom today. Very encouraging. After Mom's fall I had to figure out next steps. The first calls were to my eldest brother and sister, who serve with me on a sort of 'steering' committee when it comes to weighing options, priorities and opportunities for Mom's health and well being.  After the fall I continued to check in wit...

  On April 23, Sunday morning, Mom had a bad fall. 3:15 am I wake to hear the slap of Mom's slippers on the polished concrete floor. She is walking laps in the kitchen with her walker. I listen for awhile and decide to give her privacy. She is probably having trouble sleeping and needs to exercise to wind down. 7:00 am Mom is still asleep. I empty the commode, prepare her dentures, and leave her glass of juice for when she wakes up. 7:30 am I check in on Mom and she has put in her teeth, drank her juice, and fallen back to sleep. 8:15 am I am sitting on the couch writing and Mom appears from her bedroom. She has put on her dressing gown and a lavender bedazzled knit cap, pushing her walker. As I shut my laptop and rise from the couch to meet her, she sets off into the kitchen to do more laps. I am on my feet, walking toward her as she makes her turn at the end of the kitchen, heading east. She takes one or two steps after making the turn. I am walking toward her, not hurrying, she ...

Today   I woke up to a wordless yell from Mom’s room. It was 3:15 am. I rushed in to check on her. Her eyes were open and she looked distressed.  “Mom, did you have a nightmare?” She nodded her head. I held her hands as I sat on the side of her bed, “It’s ok. You are ok. Have a sip of water.” She sipped from the glass I offered and then sat up straight. Looking me right in the eye, she said, “I know I hurt you when you were young. I’m not going to do that anymore. Starting from now.” She lay back on her pillow. “It’s ok, Mom. We are doing great.” She still looked miserable. “Mom, would you like it if you had a teddy bear?” She nodded her head. “Ok, I have some stuffed animals in the attic. Tomorrow I will bring them down. Would that be nice?” Mom nodded and then laughed, “Oh, Jenny. You have something for everything.” “Now I have to go pee.” Mom slowly struggled out from under the covers, onto her feet and took the few tottering steps to the commode. After she was done, she st...