Mom was awake at 5 am after finally going to bed at 2 am. I was feeling weary after helping her through indigestion and shortness of breath. Making decisions about what medications to give, when to give them, monitoring the results.
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Our lives unfold in these rooms of a two-bedroom basement suite in East Vancouver. We have two bedrooms, a kitchen/dining area, livingroom/office area and bathroom. From the outside we live in a beloved heritage house on the southeast corner of our block, under the whispering shade of a giant Lombardi Poplar tree.
Mom has been feeling low key today. It is hard to tell if she is confused or she just can't remember what happened this morning, yesterday, last week or last month. It is hard to tell if we eradicated the bladder infection or if it is still a factor. To find out we will have to email the doctor, arrange an appointment, attend the appointment so he can order another urine sample, make an appointment at the lab to drop off the sample, and wait for the results.
When I suggested to Mom that maybe we should have a nurse come to visit, she said, "Oh no. Please not that. Not another visitor that I have to take care of. It is too heavy." I reassured her that she will not have to take care of any more visitors.
When Mom woke up from her nap around midday I was working at my desk, finally making headway on work that I need ready for Monday. I heard an odd thump, and then another one. I jumped up from my desk and hurried into Mom's room to see her sitting defiantly on her bed.
"What was that sound?" I asked.
"I threw my slippers at the commode!" Mom was really angry. She was just so unhappy and miserable, but couldn't really say why. No pain. Just not feeling great.
In the late afternoon I asked Mom if it would be a good idea to sit outside for awhile. She brightened up, "Yes, I will get my coat."
I settled her out at the back door with a cup of coffee and a cinnamon bun, in her white fedora and wrapped in a blanked. It was a cold, rainy, windy afternoon. The rain pelted the canopy over her head.
"How long do you want to stay outside?" I asked.
"I'm going to stay out until five o'clock. I will come in at five o'clock." She said, checking her watch.
When I checked in on her at five minutes to five, she was perfectly tranquil, calm and happy.
I guess she needed a nature bath.
This drawing came up in layers over the day. It is so messy and busy and unfocussed. Kind of like this day.
I tucked Mom into bed at nine o'clock after emptying her commode and mopping up some mysterious splashes on the floor. I reminded her of all the good visits she had today: her friends from the lodge called in celebrating a housemate's birthday; her youngest son stopped by and made her lunch and played some songs with her; her eldest son called in an gave her the news from his life far away. I kissed her on the forehead and she looked right at me and said, "Your kiss settles armies."
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