Hiccups In Rehab
Every morning, I was at the hospital bright and early, helping Mum to get her teeth brushed, followed by sitting with her whilst she ate her cornflakes. We would have a chat until about 10.00 a.m., when I would leave her with a daily newspaper, a good programme on the t.v., and jam sandwiches for lunch. It wasn't every patient who got home-made strawberry jam or ginger jam sandwiches! I would then go back home and get on with preparing the dinner and catching up on the housework. Time really flew.
Mum liked a few chocolates to nibble on, and one day I left her with a large, 24 piece tray of Ferrero Roche chocolates; I thought she would dip into them occasionally, when she felt like it.
When I got back to Mum later that afternoon, she was looking decidedly peaky.
"I don't feel very well," she said. "I feel awfully sick."
She certainly wasn't up to eating her dinner. I spoke to the nursing staff, and we agreed I'd stay with her for an hour or two, and see how she was feeling after that. In the end, Mum wasn't sick; we talked about this and that, and I told her how the pussy cats were getting on, and how much they were missing her. She washed her hands and face, and we talked some more, and it all took her mind off the nausea.
It was whilst I was trying to be entertaining - and distracting - that I noticed a large square plastic box sticking out of the rubbish bin. It was the empty container that only that morning had held 24 chocolates. Mum had scoffed the lot.
I asked her, "Mum - you know I left you a tray of chocolates this morning....?"
I'll never know exactly what she remembered, but suddenly she looked as though something had clicked in her mind.
"Yes," she said, "you gave me some of my favourites. I only had one or two. They were lovely."
"Mum, I think you had more than just one or two..... I think you ate the lot!"
"No, I didn't!" She was adamant.
Well, it was no good arguing. By the time I left, although she hadn't fancied any dinner, her tummy had clearly settled down, and she felt fine again.
This was another occasion when it was clear her mind was playing tricks; it also was one more sign that I couldn't rely on as fact, what Mum said she had done, or believed had happened to her. It was a lesson for me, too; in future, I would have to go on what I knew to be true and, on a practical level, not to leave out too much of anything for her to gorge on.
Mum liked a few chocolates to nibble on, and one day I left her with a large, 24 piece tray of Ferrero Roche chocolates; I thought she would dip into them occasionally, when she felt like it.
When I got back to Mum later that afternoon, she was looking decidedly peaky.
"I don't feel very well," she said. "I feel awfully sick."
She certainly wasn't up to eating her dinner. I spoke to the nursing staff, and we agreed I'd stay with her for an hour or two, and see how she was feeling after that. In the end, Mum wasn't sick; we talked about this and that, and I told her how the pussy cats were getting on, and how much they were missing her. She washed her hands and face, and we talked some more, and it all took her mind off the nausea.
It was whilst I was trying to be entertaining - and distracting - that I noticed a large square plastic box sticking out of the rubbish bin. It was the empty container that only that morning had held 24 chocolates. Mum had scoffed the lot.
I asked her, "Mum - you know I left you a tray of chocolates this morning....?"
I'll never know exactly what she remembered, but suddenly she looked as though something had clicked in her mind.
"Yes," she said, "you gave me some of my favourites. I only had one or two. They were lovely."
"Mum, I think you had more than just one or two..... I think you ate the lot!"
"No, I didn't!" She was adamant.
Well, it was no good arguing. By the time I left, although she hadn't fancied any dinner, her tummy had clearly settled down, and she felt fine again.
This was another occasion when it was clear her mind was playing tricks; it also was one more sign that I couldn't rely on as fact, what Mum said she had done, or believed had happened to her. It was a lesson for me, too; in future, I would have to go on what I knew to be true and, on a practical level, not to leave out too much of anything for her to gorge on.
The article looks magnificent, but it would be beneficial if you can share more about the suchlike subjects in the future. Keep posting. rehab
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for your comment and encouragement - I am always very glad to have some feedback! I will try to add more about Mum's foibles in future.
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