Monday, January 22, 2024

And I am back in the Ottawa Valley.

On Sunday afternoon, Dad called me. He was on the verge of tears. He explained that Mom was getting weaker every day—barely eating and struggling to stand up. Someone needed to be by her side even when using the toilet.

I flew up later on Sunday afternoon. Fortunately for me, Ottawa isn't a popular destination in January, making last-minute seats easy to get and not too expensive.

My husband (Thank you, sweetie!) is taking care of home and the dog while I am away.

My brothers and I have planning to do. My sister-in-law, who works in elder care, has reminded us that Mom could live for weeks or months. There is no way to know for sure.

I've been sorting through palliative care options with my father. Mom is not suffering, but she is very floppy, having difficulty moving or sitting up in her chair. My sister-in-law is teaching us how to move Mom safely without hurting our backs or manhandling her. For now, Mom will stay at home.

I want to understand how quickly we could get Mom into a proper hospice if she starts experiencing pain. To answer that, my job for now is to project manage the different care providers. Dad doesn't know how big hospital systems operate, what questions to ask, or how to be assertive in seeking information. He tends to be too polite and passive, trusting that all care providers will get back to him when needed.

And how is Mom? She is quiet, tranquil, and claims not to be in pain. My sister-in-law agrees. There are no signs of wincing or flinching. Mom sleeps a lot, listens when you talk to her, and smiles and laughs a little. Maybe she'll ask you to repeat yourself when she doesn't understand, and then she lays back and naps a bit more.

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