Mum's Ankles Become Swollen
Shortly after all the birthday celebrations for Mum, we noticed her ankles - and legs - were swelling up. Apart from the odd times when one of her knees might be swollen due to arthritis - and which would reasonably swiftly go down again - it was quite frightening, to see how large her legs had become, in such a short space of time.
Once a month I go to a poetry session at the local library, and the December meeting was dedicated to a free choice of work, but in fact focussed mainly on sweet and savoury nibbles; we had just got into our stride, and I had had my turn to perform a poem, when I felt my mobile phone vibrate. It was worrying news that when the ladies had arrived at 4.30 p.m. (and after I had left for the Library, of course), they had got Mum up, and noticed the skin on her leg was weeping, and dripping water. To begin with, they had thought perhaps her pad had slipped! but then realised Mum could not possibly have soaked all the sheets that way, or that far down.
I left the meeting straight away and drove home; in the meantime, the District Nurse had been called, and she promised to come round and see Mum as quickly as possible.
We kept calm and carried on giving Mum her dinner, and were very impressed when the head District Nurse arrived a couple of hours later. She examined Mum, and put dressings on her leg and bandaged it up, leaving us with a bag full of various pads and more bandages. We said we would call the Doctor in the morning, in case there was some infection present, and Mum needed antibiotics.
Well, it was quite a shock to see this development in Mum's legs; I know oedema is common, but to see the skin stretched so tightly that it splits, and water leaks out of it, is a complication we could well do without.
In the morning, I rang the surgery, and our lovely GP came round later in the day. She said she did not think Mum's leg was infected, but gravity was causing the problem, and so in future we must try to keep Mum's legs elevated as much as possible.
Mum usually gets up for breakfast at about 9.00 a.m., and then goes back to bed at 12.30-1.00 p.m, for her afternoon nap. The ladies come back at 4.30, when Mum gets up for dinner, and then she is back in bed by about 10.00 p.m.
The problem is, it would be better for Mum to be in bed a lot more to alleviate the problem with her legs, but then that's not very good for her chest! and it's difficult to strike the right balance. After this problem began, we started experimenting with various footstools and cushions, to elevate Mum's legs whilst she is sitting in the chair.
Sometimes it has worked well, but at other times Mum will kick the footstool over, and lose any elevation altogether! We also bought another table for her, as sitting with her feet up meant the original table was now too low, and she kept bumping her knees underneath it.
Since then, we have had regular visits from the District Nurses, and we also now ourselves regularly change any bandages on Mum's legs. We have to take care, because bandaging them securely enough so that everything stays in place in bed in one thing - the swelling goes down when she is lying in bed, with her legs raised, but once she is up and in the chair, if her legs start to swell, the bandages can then be too tight, and cut into her. We have seen it once or twice, where her flesh has been bulging over the top of the crepe, and that can become painful for Mum. It's quite a balancing act, but we are getting better at it, and forecasting what we need to do, to make Mum really comfortable.
The original chair we bought for Mum nearly 8 years ago, was very nice, but all the adjustments and leg height variations we were trying to achieve for her, had to be made by dint of footstools and cushions. The carers knew what we were trying to do, and then Home Sweet Home Care made a wonderful suggestion. They told us they had a superb, electrically-controlled leather chair, with all the options of reclining or sitting up available at the touch of a button, with a foot rest that could be raised to lift Mum's feet to an optimum level. They thought it would be ideal for Mum, and we would be very welcome to have it
With help from the lovely people at Home Sweet Home Care, we got the chair home in the New Year, and installed it in Mum's bedroom. Apart from all the obvious medical benefits, it is such a beautiful chair! Made of mellow, buttery leather, it is deliciously soft, and Mum is so comfortable in it; if she dozes off for a little while, it supports her perfectly well.
It is such a boon, and so very kind and thoughtful of Home Sweet Home Care to think of Mum; we feel very blessed to have it.
Sunday, 9 February 2020
Monday, 6 January 2020
A Birthday Bouquet from the USA
A Birthday Bouquet from the USA
When she lived in Durban, Mum had lovely neighbour,who became a very dear friend; this lady also had a daughter called Nancy, who now lives in Florida. Even though Mum left Durban in 1985, we have always kept in touch with friends from that time; sadly, Mum's friend died some years ago, but I still write to Nancy and she is such a lovely lady, it is wonderful to keep that contact.
I wrote an e-mail to Nancy, telling her about Mum's 100th birthday celebrations, and shortly after that, Mum was treated to a wonderful surprise, receiving a beautiful bouquet sent from America; she was so thrilled to have it.
There was a small problem with the address, as the first numeral of our house had been missed off! but the lady who delivered them, Molly, knocked at every door in the street, until she arrived at our front door - talk about perseverance! She told us, she was not going to give up until she found the right house, and was able to deliver the flowers to Mum.
Molly owns a shop called Molly's Flowers, and we are all agreed, that the next time we want some flowers for a special occasion, her shop will be the place we go to.
When she lived in Durban, Mum had lovely neighbour,who became a very dear friend; this lady also had a daughter called Nancy, who now lives in Florida. Even though Mum left Durban in 1985, we have always kept in touch with friends from that time; sadly, Mum's friend died some years ago, but I still write to Nancy and she is such a lovely lady, it is wonderful to keep that contact.
I wrote an e-mail to Nancy, telling her about Mum's 100th birthday celebrations, and shortly after that, Mum was treated to a wonderful surprise, receiving a beautiful bouquet sent from America; she was so thrilled to have it.
There was a small problem with the address, as the first numeral of our house had been missed off! but the lady who delivered them, Molly, knocked at every door in the street, until she arrived at our front door - talk about perseverance! She told us, she was not going to give up until she found the right house, and was able to deliver the flowers to Mum.
Molly owns a shop called Molly's Flowers, and we are all agreed, that the next time we want some flowers for a special occasion, her shop will be the place we go to.
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| Nancy's fantastic flowers from Florida! |
Wednesday, 11 December 2019
How Kind The Carers Are
We have such a close-knit band of carers, and they all know Mum really well. When she talks about "Johnny-boy" they know that is her pet name for her "baby" brother; Mum might be 100, and Uncle John might be 96 1/2, but he will always be her baby brother, and "Johnny-boy" to her
Since we discovered how ill Uncle John is, and how badly his son is dealing with his affairs, it has been a source of sadness and worry to us all, trying to find out what is happening.
After Wendy got home in June, we have not been allowed to speak to Uncle John without his son giving his permission. Because of the 9 (and now 10) hour time difference, it could be tricky to get a moment when both Mum and Uncle John are awake at the same time; in the past, and when Uncle John was well and in his own home, I would normally ring him whilst Mum was having her breakfast, and Uncle John having his supper; that worked pretty well. Now that Uncle John is ill, and sleeping more, trying to snatch a moment when they are both able to talk to each other is made impossible by attempting to obtain Johnny's permission for Uncle John to take the call. I have tried everything I can think of to try to re-establish our right to speak to Uncle John, but the staff at the Nursing Home have to follow the orders given in a letter from Uncle John's son, and which is placed on Uncle John's file, which is that no-one can speak or see Uncle John without Johnny's say-so. So far, the only person who had the right to visit Uncle John in the Nursing Home, was a Social Worker from ADA Australia; she went three times, but on two occasions, Uncle John was asleep, and on one visit when she was there, and he was awake, he was obviously not confident enough to open up to someone who was a virtual stranger. The Social Worker reported they could do no more.
I got in touch with the Police, and two policemen had to ask permission to visit; on this occasion, Johnny said Yes, so they were able to talk to Uncle John, but only spoke to him on matters of how he felt about the Nursing Home.
The Nursing Home is lovely, and the staff are caring, but no-one thought to ask the $64,000 question: "Why is Uncle John's son behaving like this, and preventing contact from us, Uncle John's loving family in England?" On 22 July, I filed a complaint to the Office of the Public Guardian, about the way Johnny was abusing his Power of Attorney; I was told the investigation is continuing, but over four months have now passed, with no definite answers. If it goes on much longer, it won't matter, because Uncle John could die. I also had a lot of sympathetic understanding from the British Vice Consul in Brisbane, and she would have been very happy to visit Uncle John, and arrange volunteers to see him as well, and take him out and about for little treats; however, when she asked permission to see Uncle John, again, his son refused.
I got in touch with Mum's MP here in the UK, and he also understood the problem, and said he would write at once to the Nursing Home. However, because we are in the middle of a general election, all the MPs are in Purdah, and he can do no more for us at the moment, and he asked the Nursing Home to respond to me directly. It comes as no surprise that, to date, we have not received any communication from the Nursing Home in Jindalee!
I have written to the Prime Minister of Australia, with a plea for him to help us move things along. I simply cannot understand why this situation is being allowed to continue, and why no-one challenges Johnny about his behaviour. I have received a reply, saying my request for help has been passed on to the State Government in Queensland; I am now just praying someone there will take this up and deal with it.
Listing all these things we have done to try and keep in contact with Uncle John, has brought me to one thing Mum kept asking about: When can she speak to her brother again? It had also not escaped her notice that for the first time, and for this most significant birthday, she had not received a card from Uncle John.
This is where the kindness of Mum's carers came in.
One of the young ladies, Sydney, asked for some photos of Mum and the family, and she arranged for a very special birthday card to be produced with pictures from Mum's past. Taking pride of place, in the middle of the card, was a beautiful photograph of Uncle John and Mum, taken at one of our earlier trips to The Ritz, when he stayed with us one summer.
It was such a kind and thoughtful thing to do; in spite of all the problems we have, it meant Mum did have a contact of sorts with Uncle John, with a picture of the two of them displayed on a beautiful card. She was so happy to have it.
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| So Mum had a card with her baby brother on it, after all! |
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| Home Sweet Home - truly living up to their name! |
Monday, 25 November 2019
Mum's Grand Birthday Weekend
Mum's Grand Birthday Weekend
We got there!
We got there!
Mum has had such a wonderful birthday weekend; apart from Tea at the Ritz on the Saturday, 26 October, we had people round on the Sunday, and more friends and neighbours visited on her actual birthday, Monday 28th October. Mum has enjoyed every minute, as have we all.
Whilst we were enjoying Tea at the Ritz, and after we had all sung Happy Birthday, the waiter brought her large birthday cake to the table, and I stood up and read Mum the poem I had written especially for her. As I finished, all the other guests in the Palm Court also rose to give Mum a spontaneous round of applause.
Mum was thrilled to bits; with her birthday card from the Queen on the table, Mum said she felt like a queen herself, and we were certainly treated right royally.
This is the poem I read for Mum:
Whilst we were enjoying Tea at the Ritz, and after we had all sung Happy Birthday, the waiter brought her large birthday cake to the table, and I stood up and read Mum the poem I had written especially for her. As I finished, all the other guests in the Palm Court also rose to give Mum a spontaneous round of applause.
Mum was thrilled to bits; with her birthday card from the Queen on the table, Mum said she felt like a queen herself, and we were certainly treated right royally.
This is the poem I read for Mum:
BIRTHDAY POEM
It’s not every day we celebrate
A great centenary year
And now that you’re one hundred
It’s time to raise a cheer
For so many things that you have done
You’ve travelled far and wide
To Africa in all its ways
With Grandma by your side.
You’ve worked in jobs demanding much
But the pinnacle of your career
Was to land a top post in Treasury
A male-dominated sphere!
There have been seismic changes
But you’ve coped with every one
And risen up to do your best
And come out well and strong.
We’re a family small, but large on love
You’re our universal glue,
Helping and encouraging us
To stay steadfast and true.
So we can celebrate with love
And congratulatory cheer
This special gathering at the Ritz
Now that your birthday’s here.
Alexandra Wilde
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| Birthday Girl Mum! |
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| A creamy, dreamy birthday cake |
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| A memorable day |
Monday, 11 November 2019
Requesting A Birthday Card From The Queen
Requesting A Birthday Card From The Queen
I think most people who know me, will be aware I much prefer to write letters, rather than use e-mail. It's not so much that I am a technophobe, I just prefer that personal "touch" - literally handling a sheet of paper or a card, writing the letter or message, addressing the envelope, and then posting it to the recipient. I once wrote a poem about this:
but I have to confess that, as long as everything works properly, e-mail is quick! If I have someone to guide me, and reassure me I am doing everything correctly, I'm happy to have a go with ordering things on-line.
So it was, I decided to apply to the Anniversaries Office on-line, and request a birthday card for Mum, from Her Majesty: and it really was simple. There was also a phone number to call if I wanted a helping hand, but I didn't need to use it, and everything went through very smoothly.
There was also an option to request the card up to arrive up to five days before the big day - this is in case a party has been arranged - so I asked for it to be delivered on 25 October, so that we would have it in good time, and take it with us to The Ritz.
There followed reassuring e-mails from the Anniversaries Office, confirming everything was in hand. I told Mum that we had heard from Buckingham Palace, and she should soon be receiving a birthday card from the Queen; Mum was thrilled to bits!
The days soon passed, until on Friday, 25 October, our favourite Postman rang the doorbell, and stood there ready to hand us Mum's Royal birthday card, by Special Delivery, guaranteed by 1 p.m. He had a huge smile on his face - all the postmen and ladies recognise these missives from the Palace - and said, "I think someone has a big birthday coming up!"
The card was inside in a royal blue envelope, with EIIR on it, and "To be Delivered on 25/10" written on the top: a truly Royal Mail item!
A week or two earlier, we had also received a couple of phone calls from the Department of Work and Pensions, to check Mum would indeed be celebrating her birthday on 28 October, and I did wonder if they were also making sure Mum was actually still with us...! However, at the same time as our Postman delivered the card from the Queen, he had another envelope to give to Mum, also by Special Delivery, guaranteed by 1 p.m. It contained a "telegram" from Dr Therese Coffey MP, Secretary of State for Work and Pensions. That was an unexpected bonus, and Mum was pleased to receive it as well.
I remember telegrams from the past - I think one of the last telegrams I ever received was more than 50 years ago, so my memory might be a little hazy, but as I recall in the 70s, they were wonderful for getting information to people who were not on the phone. I was working in London, and one evening the telegram boy delivered one from my fiancé in Portsmouth. He had planned to come up to London at the weekend and take me out, but now he had to let me know that, at very short notice, he had to go on sea trials with a new Royal Navy vessel instead. I was disappointed, but the job took priority, and at least I knew what was happening. I remember telegrams being delivered in orangey-coloured envelopes, with the typed message printed on thin strips, which were then stuck onto a sheet of paper. After every sentence, the word "stop" was always included, and as you paid for every word, this tended to up the cost! I have since read somewhere that for military telegrams, the word "stop" was used to prevent any ambiguity in orders contained in the message.
With all the modern methods of communication, I think telegrams were phased out years ago, but it was a nostalgic reminder of the past for Mum to get a card officially designated as a telegram; it's good the "telegram" title is still retained for occasions like Mum's 100th birthday.
With Mum's birthday card from the Queen safely in our possession, we were all ready for the start of the best birthday weekend.
I think most people who know me, will be aware I much prefer to write letters, rather than use e-mail. It's not so much that I am a technophobe, I just prefer that personal "touch" - literally handling a sheet of paper or a card, writing the letter or message, addressing the envelope, and then posting it to the recipient. I once wrote a poem about this:
A Valentine Verse
We may all be ultra-modern
With mobiles, voice and text;
But with all of these devices,
We can be sorely vexed.
We need a touch of mystery
And of one thing I am sure:
Nothing beats the gentle plop
Of post, landing on the floor.
I'm waiting for that special card,
Picked with love and care,
From that one darling other,
Whose life I want to share.
So, to the Royal Mail, this plea
Is made with all my heart:
On St. Valentine's, can you please
Play your major part?
It might be called "snail mail" by some
But for romance, it's best:
You cannot tuck an e-mail
Up close against your chest!
So it was, I decided to apply to the Anniversaries Office on-line, and request a birthday card for Mum, from Her Majesty: and it really was simple. There was also a phone number to call if I wanted a helping hand, but I didn't need to use it, and everything went through very smoothly.
There was also an option to request the card up to arrive up to five days before the big day - this is in case a party has been arranged - so I asked for it to be delivered on 25 October, so that we would have it in good time, and take it with us to The Ritz.
There followed reassuring e-mails from the Anniversaries Office, confirming everything was in hand. I told Mum that we had heard from Buckingham Palace, and she should soon be receiving a birthday card from the Queen; Mum was thrilled to bits!
The days soon passed, until on Friday, 25 October, our favourite Postman rang the doorbell, and stood there ready to hand us Mum's Royal birthday card, by Special Delivery, guaranteed by 1 p.m. He had a huge smile on his face - all the postmen and ladies recognise these missives from the Palace - and said, "I think someone has a big birthday coming up!"
The card was inside in a royal blue envelope, with EIIR on it, and "To be Delivered on 25/10" written on the top: a truly Royal Mail item!
A week or two earlier, we had also received a couple of phone calls from the Department of Work and Pensions, to check Mum would indeed be celebrating her birthday on 28 October, and I did wonder if they were also making sure Mum was actually still with us...! However, at the same time as our Postman delivered the card from the Queen, he had another envelope to give to Mum, also by Special Delivery, guaranteed by 1 p.m. It contained a "telegram" from Dr Therese Coffey MP, Secretary of State for Work and Pensions. That was an unexpected bonus, and Mum was pleased to receive it as well.
I remember telegrams from the past - I think one of the last telegrams I ever received was more than 50 years ago, so my memory might be a little hazy, but as I recall in the 70s, they were wonderful for getting information to people who were not on the phone. I was working in London, and one evening the telegram boy delivered one from my fiancé in Portsmouth. He had planned to come up to London at the weekend and take me out, but now he had to let me know that, at very short notice, he had to go on sea trials with a new Royal Navy vessel instead. I was disappointed, but the job took priority, and at least I knew what was happening. I remember telegrams being delivered in orangey-coloured envelopes, with the typed message printed on thin strips, which were then stuck onto a sheet of paper. After every sentence, the word "stop" was always included, and as you paid for every word, this tended to up the cost! I have since read somewhere that for military telegrams, the word "stop" was used to prevent any ambiguity in orders contained in the message.
With all the modern methods of communication, I think telegrams were phased out years ago, but it was a nostalgic reminder of the past for Mum to get a card officially designated as a telegram; it's good the "telegram" title is still retained for occasions like Mum's 100th birthday.
With Mum's birthday card from the Queen safely in our possession, we were all ready for the start of the best birthday weekend.
Friday, 1 November 2019
We All Had Rotten Colds - But Are Now Recovered!
We All Had Rotten Colds - But Are Now Recovered!
If anyone is wondering about the three week-plus gap between postings on this blog, it is because we all went down with the dreaded 'llergy. Mum was very unwell with a bad cold that went on her chest; the Doctor visited her at home, and Mum was on Amoxycillin for 10 days, which helped a lot. After Mum had finished the medicine, I was still worried that there was something lingering on her chest; the Doctor came for a second visit to see her, and prescribed another week's course of antibiotics, Clarithromycin, which we hoped would finally get things sorted out.
Because we had all been so close to Mum, within a very short time, I was feeling distinctly "salt and peppery," and sure enough, soon I was feeling as rough as Mum must have felt when she first went down with the bug. We had all been working in such close proximity with Mum, soon the other members of the family were in the same boat!
It meant tasks were taken up by those feeling least ill at any one moment; when all you want to do is get your head down for a while, things that normally take minutes seemed to take hours, but we managed somehow to get everything done.
I can laugh about it now, but it wasn't much fun at the time. I loathe wearing a mask, but I didn't want to risk re-infecting Mum, so made sure I covered up before doing anything for her.
Our Doctor came round once more, to check Mum was really well again; we even had a urine sample tested, and that came back clear.
I was very aware our trip into London for Tea at the Ritz was getting ever closer; it's fine timing for occasions like these, for everyone to be well and enjoy the celebration!
Thanks to the care and attention from Mum's Doctor, and all the Home Sweet Home ladies who care for her, we got through it and dared to look forward to Mum's big day!
If anyone is wondering about the three week-plus gap between postings on this blog, it is because we all went down with the dreaded 'llergy. Mum was very unwell with a bad cold that went on her chest; the Doctor visited her at home, and Mum was on Amoxycillin for 10 days, which helped a lot. After Mum had finished the medicine, I was still worried that there was something lingering on her chest; the Doctor came for a second visit to see her, and prescribed another week's course of antibiotics, Clarithromycin, which we hoped would finally get things sorted out.
Because we had all been so close to Mum, within a very short time, I was feeling distinctly "salt and peppery," and sure enough, soon I was feeling as rough as Mum must have felt when she first went down with the bug. We had all been working in such close proximity with Mum, soon the other members of the family were in the same boat!
It meant tasks were taken up by those feeling least ill at any one moment; when all you want to do is get your head down for a while, things that normally take minutes seemed to take hours, but we managed somehow to get everything done.
I can laugh about it now, but it wasn't much fun at the time. I loathe wearing a mask, but I didn't want to risk re-infecting Mum, so made sure I covered up before doing anything for her.
Our Doctor came round once more, to check Mum was really well again; we even had a urine sample tested, and that came back clear.
I was very aware our trip into London for Tea at the Ritz was getting ever closer; it's fine timing for occasions like these, for everyone to be well and enjoy the celebration!
Thanks to the care and attention from Mum's Doctor, and all the Home Sweet Home ladies who care for her, we got through it and dared to look forward to Mum's big day!
Sunday, 6 October 2019
Looking After Mum With A Bad Cold/Chest
Looking After Mum With a Bad Cold/Chest
On Thursday, 3 October, Mum woke up and was pretty well; there were a couple of times when I noticed her nose needed a wipe, but nothing out of the ordinary! and she was really chipper, washing her hands and brushing her teeth. Then she ate all her breakfast, drank all her tea, and was very chatty - it was a really good morning!
The ladies came to get Mum into bed for a nap - again, everything was as usual, and I was happy to go off for a couple of hours to a Poetry afternoon; I certainly wouldn't have gone if I had known how quickly Mum would go downhill.
When I got home, Mum was up, but clearly unwell. She was very croaky, and it was frightening how fast everything had progressed. The carers had come back at 4.30 and got her sitting in the chair, so at least she was up, and had eaten some dinner (after saying she didn't want anything, in the end, she didn't do too badly!) and had her tea, but she was very tired, so at the next call, at 7.30, Mum went back to bed. The ladies said they would be back for the usual bed call, and see how she was then; but at 10.00 p.m., Mum was still sound asleep - she didn't even rouse when they were turning her and checking her pad was good for the night, so we all hoped a good sleep would do the trick and she would be as right as rain in the morning.
Because I was so worried about Mum, I couldn't sleep, so I made good use of the time, ringing various authorities in Brisbane, including The Office of the Public Guardian, to see how their investigation, about why Uncle John's son is trying to isolate him, is progressing. I was assured it is continuing, but I stressed that with Uncle John's diagnosis of terminal bile duct and liver cancer, time is of the essence; if all the searches go on for too long, it will soon become academic, because Uncle John will no longer be with us! The lady I spoke to then suggested I write Uncle John a letter, and we shall see if that, at least, gets through to him.
I then rang the Nursing Home, and asked if I could have a quick talk with Uncle John, but the message was the same: There is a letter on file from Uncle John's son, and he will not allow anyone to contact his father without his express permission.
It is just terribly sad. Mum keeps asking why she can't speak to her brother, and I also suspect Uncle John still has no money of his own, to ask someone to buy a 100th birthday card for him to send to her.
I kept checking on Mum, making sure her temperature didn't go up - in spite of her being unwell, she wasn't running a fever, so eventually I gave in and went to bed myself.
Come Friday morning, the lady carers washed Mum, dressed her in nice clean clothes, and talked to her, but Mum was still out of it. She slept on, and we agreed to see how she was at lunch time.
I was very worried because the last thing we want is for the infection to go on her chest, so I rang the surgery early in the morning; the receptionists know Mum - and her age - and took down all the details about how quickly this illness had come on, and promised to get the Doctor to call us as soon as possible.
In fact, as soon as the morning surgery was over, the Doctor arrived. We had already had the lunch call, and Mum was still not up; she slept through the Doctor examining her, listening to her chest (not even the cold end of the stethoscope woke her up!) and took her blood pressure. Her chest was very "crackly," and the Doctor said she would prescribe a ten days' course of antibiotics for Mum, with the proviso that if she was not improving by Sunday, we should call 999.
By then, Mum had been in bed for around 20 hours, and I knew that was far too long. It's all very well being tired, and I know sleep is a great healer, but you can have too much of a good thing, and we had to get Mum going, and try to clear her chest.
This is where Home Sweet Home Care also really proved their worth. We rang the Office, and they were able to rearrange calls so that we could have help to get Mum up as soon as possible. The carers arrived, and Mum started to wake up, so they gently hoisted her, and got her settled in the chair. We put lots of pillows around her, so she was really comfortable.
In sitting up, Mum was also able to cough and clear her chest; we washed her hands and Mum brushed her teeth; I combed and plaited her hair. It was terribly slow to begin with, but after a while, Mum started to buck up and co-operate; she looked better, and said she felt better.
By then, we had the antibiotics from the chemist; I made tea for Mum and put out a few corn flakes, and she took the first dose of Amoxycillin. She manages the suspension medicine just fine; it smells of bananas, and Mum said how delicious it was - better that than her looking suspiciously at the bottle and asking what it's all for!
I needed to make sure Mum's fluid intake was kept up, and I think over the course of the evening, she did well to drink about 2 1/2 cups of tea; I wasn't so worried about food, but she still fancied a little bit of cake before bedtime.
The carers were terrific; even if they were off duty, we had offers of help from everyone at Home Sweet Home, and we were so touched by their concern and care. They made such an effort to help us, managing call times so that we were able to fit in a second dose of medicine before Mum went back to bed at about 9.30 p.m.
I stayed up for a while, and checked on Mum a few times, before going to bed at about 12.30. Then I could not sleep! My mind was awhirl with worrying about Mum, so at 3.00 a.m., I got up and went to check on her.
She was very hot, with a temperature of about 101f. I got a wodge of kitchen towel, wetted it with lukewarm water, and sponged Mum's forehead and arms to cool her down. I put a single layer of a light blanket over her, and presently checked her temperature again; it was a relief to see it had gone down to 98f.
My sleepless night was at least rewarded creatively; I was inspired to write a poem for the National Poetry Competition (closing date 31 October, so I had better get on with it!) and I also wrote a letter to Uncle John, that can be sent off later in the morning.
When I finally got to bed, I realised I had the first hint that I have probably picked up Mum's bug. It's that faint "salt and pepper" feeling in the nose, accompanied by a touch of malaise that is not just related to tiredness. Oh well. Working in such close proximity with Mum, makes this an occupational hazard. In case it is not the same thing that Mum has, when I got up, it was a case of "Masks at Dawn!" I loathe wearing a mask, but it's better to be safe than sorry.
On Thursday, 3 October, Mum woke up and was pretty well; there were a couple of times when I noticed her nose needed a wipe, but nothing out of the ordinary! and she was really chipper, washing her hands and brushing her teeth. Then she ate all her breakfast, drank all her tea, and was very chatty - it was a really good morning!
The ladies came to get Mum into bed for a nap - again, everything was as usual, and I was happy to go off for a couple of hours to a Poetry afternoon; I certainly wouldn't have gone if I had known how quickly Mum would go downhill.
When I got home, Mum was up, but clearly unwell. She was very croaky, and it was frightening how fast everything had progressed. The carers had come back at 4.30 and got her sitting in the chair, so at least she was up, and had eaten some dinner (after saying she didn't want anything, in the end, she didn't do too badly!) and had her tea, but she was very tired, so at the next call, at 7.30, Mum went back to bed. The ladies said they would be back for the usual bed call, and see how she was then; but at 10.00 p.m., Mum was still sound asleep - she didn't even rouse when they were turning her and checking her pad was good for the night, so we all hoped a good sleep would do the trick and she would be as right as rain in the morning.
Because I was so worried about Mum, I couldn't sleep, so I made good use of the time, ringing various authorities in Brisbane, including The Office of the Public Guardian, to see how their investigation, about why Uncle John's son is trying to isolate him, is progressing. I was assured it is continuing, but I stressed that with Uncle John's diagnosis of terminal bile duct and liver cancer, time is of the essence; if all the searches go on for too long, it will soon become academic, because Uncle John will no longer be with us! The lady I spoke to then suggested I write Uncle John a letter, and we shall see if that, at least, gets through to him.
I then rang the Nursing Home, and asked if I could have a quick talk with Uncle John, but the message was the same: There is a letter on file from Uncle John's son, and he will not allow anyone to contact his father without his express permission.
It is just terribly sad. Mum keeps asking why she can't speak to her brother, and I also suspect Uncle John still has no money of his own, to ask someone to buy a 100th birthday card for him to send to her.
I kept checking on Mum, making sure her temperature didn't go up - in spite of her being unwell, she wasn't running a fever, so eventually I gave in and went to bed myself.
Come Friday morning, the lady carers washed Mum, dressed her in nice clean clothes, and talked to her, but Mum was still out of it. She slept on, and we agreed to see how she was at lunch time.
I was very worried because the last thing we want is for the infection to go on her chest, so I rang the surgery early in the morning; the receptionists know Mum - and her age - and took down all the details about how quickly this illness had come on, and promised to get the Doctor to call us as soon as possible.
In fact, as soon as the morning surgery was over, the Doctor arrived. We had already had the lunch call, and Mum was still not up; she slept through the Doctor examining her, listening to her chest (not even the cold end of the stethoscope woke her up!) and took her blood pressure. Her chest was very "crackly," and the Doctor said she would prescribe a ten days' course of antibiotics for Mum, with the proviso that if she was not improving by Sunday, we should call 999.
By then, Mum had been in bed for around 20 hours, and I knew that was far too long. It's all very well being tired, and I know sleep is a great healer, but you can have too much of a good thing, and we had to get Mum going, and try to clear her chest.
This is where Home Sweet Home Care also really proved their worth. We rang the Office, and they were able to rearrange calls so that we could have help to get Mum up as soon as possible. The carers arrived, and Mum started to wake up, so they gently hoisted her, and got her settled in the chair. We put lots of pillows around her, so she was really comfortable.
In sitting up, Mum was also able to cough and clear her chest; we washed her hands and Mum brushed her teeth; I combed and plaited her hair. It was terribly slow to begin with, but after a while, Mum started to buck up and co-operate; she looked better, and said she felt better.
By then, we had the antibiotics from the chemist; I made tea for Mum and put out a few corn flakes, and she took the first dose of Amoxycillin. She manages the suspension medicine just fine; it smells of bananas, and Mum said how delicious it was - better that than her looking suspiciously at the bottle and asking what it's all for!
I needed to make sure Mum's fluid intake was kept up, and I think over the course of the evening, she did well to drink about 2 1/2 cups of tea; I wasn't so worried about food, but she still fancied a little bit of cake before bedtime.
The carers were terrific; even if they were off duty, we had offers of help from everyone at Home Sweet Home, and we were so touched by their concern and care. They made such an effort to help us, managing call times so that we were able to fit in a second dose of medicine before Mum went back to bed at about 9.30 p.m.
I stayed up for a while, and checked on Mum a few times, before going to bed at about 12.30. Then I could not sleep! My mind was awhirl with worrying about Mum, so at 3.00 a.m., I got up and went to check on her.
She was very hot, with a temperature of about 101f. I got a wodge of kitchen towel, wetted it with lukewarm water, and sponged Mum's forehead and arms to cool her down. I put a single layer of a light blanket over her, and presently checked her temperature again; it was a relief to see it had gone down to 98f.
My sleepless night was at least rewarded creatively; I was inspired to write a poem for the National Poetry Competition (closing date 31 October, so I had better get on with it!) and I also wrote a letter to Uncle John, that can be sent off later in the morning.
When I finally got to bed, I realised I had the first hint that I have probably picked up Mum's bug. It's that faint "salt and pepper" feeling in the nose, accompanied by a touch of malaise that is not just related to tiredness. Oh well. Working in such close proximity with Mum, makes this an occupational hazard. In case it is not the same thing that Mum has, when I got up, it was a case of "Masks at Dawn!" I loathe wearing a mask, but it's better to be safe than sorry.
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