Day 17 - As Good As It Gets
I told mom during today's visit that she'd be discharged from the hospital on Saturday and that I'd bring her back to CC. She was extremely relieved at this (well, as relieved as she could possibly show.)
I did something pretty bold. We sat at a table side-by-side. I turned to her, touched her arm and said, "I want to share something with you."
"What is it?"
"I'm sick."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm sick like you're sick." (Ok, maybe a stretch of the truth. I'm not schizophrenic, but I was diagnosed and treated for serious depression years ago.)
I opened up my bag and pulled out my pill case that holds my week's worth of meds. I showed them to her and said, "This is my medicine, and this is what I take everyday so I don't become depressed."
She was curious. There were so many capsules, so many tablets, so many different colors... She pointed to each drug, segregated in their little sections, and asked their names.
"What's this...?"
"Prozac."
"What's this?"
"Wellbutrin."
"What's this?"
"Effexor."
"What's this?"
"Synthroid."
"What's this?"
"Clonopin."
She paused and looked at the pillcase. I could tell that she was processing this information in her mind.
I told her that I need her to take her medicine everyday. I can't stand to see her in the hospital. I take my medicine so I don't have to go to the hospital. Could she do the same?
Again, she just sat and absorbed. Then she said, "Ok. You're not sick like I'm sick. I'm sick because I had a lot of people around me and then there was nobody. They were all gone."
It was then that I realized that she was lonely. She had been abandoned. In the past couple of years, she's experienced a lot of loss. Her brother, sister, and sister-in-law all died last year. My sister had left the Philippines to permanently move to the States in 2000. Her husband and child followed later in 2003.
And now my mom was alone.
I promised her that I would visit her every year. "Would you like that?"
"Yes."
And she smiled. I patted her arm reassuringly.
The rest of our time today was really good. I came to a realization: she could only do/process one thing at a time. When they brought out her lunch, I let her eat it in silence and told her that I'd just read my book until she was finished. When we talk, I ask her very deliberate yes/no easy-type questions that don't require a lot of thought or processing. I ask her things one at a time instead of bombarding her with various topics, questions, issues. I keep our conversation as simple and linear as possible. It works.
Towards the end of visiting hours, one of the other patients sitting a few tables down from us started screaming at the top of his lungs. My mom and I just watched him. I turned to her and said, "I really have to get you out of this place..."
She smiled and chuckled.
Cool. Some emotion.
TTYL
Ed
I did something pretty bold. We sat at a table side-by-side. I turned to her, touched her arm and said, "I want to share something with you."
"What is it?"
"I'm sick."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm sick like you're sick." (Ok, maybe a stretch of the truth. I'm not schizophrenic, but I was diagnosed and treated for serious depression years ago.)
I opened up my bag and pulled out my pill case that holds my week's worth of meds. I showed them to her and said, "This is my medicine, and this is what I take everyday so I don't become depressed."
She was curious. There were so many capsules, so many tablets, so many different colors... She pointed to each drug, segregated in their little sections, and asked their names.
"What's this...?"
"Prozac."
"What's this?"
"Wellbutrin."
"What's this?"
"Effexor."
"What's this?"
"Synthroid."
"What's this?"
"Clonopin."
She paused and looked at the pillcase. I could tell that she was processing this information in her mind.
I told her that I need her to take her medicine everyday. I can't stand to see her in the hospital. I take my medicine so I don't have to go to the hospital. Could she do the same?
Again, she just sat and absorbed. Then she said, "Ok. You're not sick like I'm sick. I'm sick because I had a lot of people around me and then there was nobody. They were all gone."
It was then that I realized that she was lonely. She had been abandoned. In the past couple of years, she's experienced a lot of loss. Her brother, sister, and sister-in-law all died last year. My sister had left the Philippines to permanently move to the States in 2000. Her husband and child followed later in 2003.
And now my mom was alone.
I promised her that I would visit her every year. "Would you like that?"
"Yes."
And she smiled. I patted her arm reassuringly.
The rest of our time today was really good. I came to a realization: she could only do/process one thing at a time. When they brought out her lunch, I let her eat it in silence and told her that I'd just read my book until she was finished. When we talk, I ask her very deliberate yes/no easy-type questions that don't require a lot of thought or processing. I ask her things one at a time instead of bombarding her with various topics, questions, issues. I keep our conversation as simple and linear as possible. It works.
Towards the end of visiting hours, one of the other patients sitting a few tables down from us started screaming at the top of his lungs. My mom and I just watched him. I turned to her and said, "I really have to get you out of this place..."
She smiled and chuckled.
Cool. Some emotion.
TTYL
Ed
posted by YodaBeesh at
7:08 AM
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