Granddaughter
Things have settled down into a grim, deadening routine.
The last few days of the Clonazepam leave her drowsy in the morning and unwilling to even try breakfast. She may have some thickened juice mid morning, maybe 150 ml, and a small portion of a pot of fortified Nutilis Stage Three. I may get some more Nutilis in her during the day and she will probably have another 200 ml of juice, but she is not interested in hot food, and needs constant reminder and encouragement to swallow what she does allow in her mouth.
The drip seems established as a routine now but the daily effort to change it continues to be a comedy of errors. Last night the two district nurses arrived to change the bag and asked where the replacement was. We told them they should have brought one with them. They were adamant that they never do this. The home supplies the saline. Infection control reasons. In fact, the daytime staff (who work until 10 p.m.) don't even have access to any saline. They would have to contact the night staff and get them to find some and bring it.
I think we now know why 'sometime after six' is always so late.
She is still dehydrated and losing weight. She seems more alert each day and has regular smiles for the care workers (but not me), and is sometimes quite vocal, and there is no chestiness, but she seems to be freewheeling rather than recovering. Grim.
There are heartwarming bright spots.
My daughter and son-in-law brought my granddaughter Ivy to the Care Home on Saturday. They had brought her before, last Monday, when we thought everything was ending, but Rosemarie was semi conscious the whole time and was not aware of anything.
Saturday was different. She doesn't usually register people now, but her body language suggested she was picking up on something. I had talked about Ivy coming to see her for several days hoping the idea would register, and my daughter loudly and clearly introduce Ivy to her grandma.
Rosemarie cannot reliably use her left arm any more so we used the duvet to make a sort of pillow above the arm and rested Ivy there. Rosemarie did not look at her but clearly could feel something there and her right hand came round and started to stroke Ivy's leg. It looked like she was cuddling her, and Ivy responded by snuggling up and falling asleep.
It was beautiful.
I don't know how much she really knew about what was going on and it is all too easy to read too much into it. I know Rosemarie has been desperate for grandchildren to spoil for many years, and I would like to think that a baby in her arms brought some kind of memory back. It certainly looked that way in the pictures that I took, and hopefully they will look that way to Ivy when she grows up.
And asks about the grandmother she can't remember.
The last few days of the Clonazepam leave her drowsy in the morning and unwilling to even try breakfast. She may have some thickened juice mid morning, maybe 150 ml, and a small portion of a pot of fortified Nutilis Stage Three. I may get some more Nutilis in her during the day and she will probably have another 200 ml of juice, but she is not interested in hot food, and needs constant reminder and encouragement to swallow what she does allow in her mouth.
The drip seems established as a routine now but the daily effort to change it continues to be a comedy of errors. Last night the two district nurses arrived to change the bag and asked where the replacement was. We told them they should have brought one with them. They were adamant that they never do this. The home supplies the saline. Infection control reasons. In fact, the daytime staff (who work until 10 p.m.) don't even have access to any saline. They would have to contact the night staff and get them to find some and bring it.
I think we now know why 'sometime after six' is always so late.
She is still dehydrated and losing weight. She seems more alert each day and has regular smiles for the care workers (but not me), and is sometimes quite vocal, and there is no chestiness, but she seems to be freewheeling rather than recovering. Grim.
There are heartwarming bright spots.
My daughter and son-in-law brought my granddaughter Ivy to the Care Home on Saturday. They had brought her before, last Monday, when we thought everything was ending, but Rosemarie was semi conscious the whole time and was not aware of anything.
Saturday was different. She doesn't usually register people now, but her body language suggested she was picking up on something. I had talked about Ivy coming to see her for several days hoping the idea would register, and my daughter loudly and clearly introduce Ivy to her grandma.
Rosemarie cannot reliably use her left arm any more so we used the duvet to make a sort of pillow above the arm and rested Ivy there. Rosemarie did not look at her but clearly could feel something there and her right hand came round and started to stroke Ivy's leg. It looked like she was cuddling her, and Ivy responded by snuggling up and falling asleep.
It was beautiful.
I don't know how much she really knew about what was going on and it is all too easy to read too much into it. I know Rosemarie has been desperate for grandchildren to spoil for many years, and I would like to think that a baby in her arms brought some kind of memory back. It certainly looked that way in the pictures that I took, and hopefully they will look that way to Ivy when she grows up.
And asks about the grandmother she can't remember.
posted by Other Kosh at 10:19 am
1 Comments:
Ah lovely you managed to get a picture. I never managed to get a picture of Mum with Matthew and I so regret that. Neither of the boys have much idea of who she was or what she looks like as I have been really bad about keeping photos around. I am sure that won't happen with Ivy.
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