Road to Recovery
She fed herself this evening. Just a few spoonfuls, and often after much coaxing, but it’s a HUGE step for someone who was all stiff less than a month ago.
A week ago, she started curling her fingers around the handle of her yellow mug and lifting it to her mouth for little sips. Now, the mug’s never far from her on the dining table, she’s always drinking from it and then putting it back in exactly the same spot. This evening, she discovered it was empty and said as much. Independent observation not prompted by any question from us.
Yay!
*so happy*
She’s even walking and needing the wheelchair less and less.
She can even answer back in an intelligent, funny way. I was trying to coax one more spoonful into her mouth, and said, “You promised me you would have one more spoonful.”
Her reply?
“When did I promise you?”
*huge grin*
On Saturday, she’d read out father’s Chinese name when I showed it to her. It must’ve zapped whatever energy she had cuz she refused to read her children’s names after that. But when I showed her her own Chinese name, she looked at me as if to say “you mean you don’t know whose name this is?” I insisted she read it for me, and she did. Loud and clear.
*so so happy*
Yes, I’m quite sure her earlier Parkinson’s like stiffness was caused by a change in her medications. Now that she’s adjusting to the medications, she’s almost 100% her old self.
Unfortunately, there’s a downside to her recovery. The caregivers at the home had grown used to leaving her on her own, knowing she would not get up and walk about. Well, not anymore.
Yesterday afternoon, when the two caregivers on duty were busy, mother got up and made her way to the dining room. She didn’t make it there, cuz she fell.
She fell!
But the darn thing was no one called to let us know. It was only when I visited in the late afternoon that one of them told me.
Their excuse for not calling? Something about there being no blood.
You mean you have to see blood before you call us? I shot back.
Dang.
No blood, but there was a HUGE bump on the back of her head. Thanks to her dementia, she didn’t seem to remember falling or to feel any pain when I pressed lightly on the bump. It was only after dinner when we put her on one of the lazy chairs that she let out a little “ouch” when she leaned back on the headrest.
This evening, the bump had almost disappeared. I had wanted to take her to the clinic yesterday evening, but my sister, after consulting with her cook, said if mother did not faint or vomit, then it was okay.
I guess the cook was right.
The caregivers at GT Heritage will have to remember to restrain her whenever they’re busy and cannot watch over her. They have our permission to do so. Mother’s, too, since she doesn’t struggle when they wrap a long piece of cloth around her middle, tying it behind her back (so she can’t reach to untie the knot).
Amidst all these signs of recovery, I need to remind myself she will have good and bad days. Good days when she’s almost her old self, and bad days when she may slip into some stiffness (which I’d written about here) or in a world of her own.
But overall, I’m not complaining. In fact, I’m enjoying it. It’s like seeing a little child learning to walk, talk, feed herself and do all the things we take for granted.
