Joy and sorrow all at once. About 12 days ago, after many conversations with Shirley's nurses and doctors, and after talking with the brothers, we decided to take her off her Namenda and her "apetite boost". She had been unresponsive for so long that the consensus was that the meds were not helping her anymore. Upon making the decision, I was counseled by the staff that I should expect mom to decline rapidly - in fact, I should probably start interviewing some Hospice teams. Lots of tears and guilt and more of both kicked in. Was this the right thing to do? Who knew? Who could tell me? Anyway, it was done and I sent a short email to a few of her colleagues/friends to let them know what was happening. One of the friends made immediate plans with me to visit Shirley. The others sent email saying that they were not able to handle seeing Shirley in her declining state and that they wanted to "remember her in her good days."
So here's the kicker. Shirley, instead of declining, suddenly became alive again. She almost immediately began to sleep less, to speak more, to continue to eat with good appetite, and to bear more weight when we moved her from place to place. She is communicating in sentences and making sense more often than not. She has hollered at me for bumping her footrests when we roll around the halls in her wheelchair. Where before she couldn't use her hands much, she is now holding some finger foods, scratching her head, and rubbing her nose. She smiles at me and at the other residents and aides, she waves. What the heck!!!!!
So, I am going to end this on an angry note about her "friends". I might delete this tomorrow, but for now let me just say to those who "can't bear to see her like this" - your cowardice and insensitivity astound me. Shirley spends long hours and long days and nights in a wonderful care center. She lives for the moments when someone cares enough to spend even a scant half hour letting her know that she is still loved and has not been forgotten. I know you're busy and have full lives, but there might come a time when YOU are in her shoes. Buck up, take a moment to remember her as she was, but do it at the care center while you're holding her hand. It's such a small commitment on your part. She was your best friend . . . and she misses you.
