Day 23 - I hate Tricycles and Mom Update

I've come to the conclusion that I really hate tricycles.

They're ubiquitous. They spew fumes. They sound like lawnmowers. Thousands of them buzz around town like little ants in a colony.

No place is safe. They maneuver into the most ridiculously tight places among trucks, cars, and other competing tricycles.

For those of you that live in the city, there's always a constant hum in the background of cars and traffic. After awhile you become desensitized to this. Or at least you can seek solace in the confines of your own home.

For some reason, the buzz of the tricycle seems to constantly drill into your head. You hear it everywhere. My Lola's house has solid concrete walls... I'd venture to say a foot or less thick; but I can still hear the f**king tricycles buzzing past the house.

I drown out the sounds with tunes from my laptop or watch a movie.

The sound is always there.

I went to the bank early this morning to pay for my airplane ticket, so I hopped into a tricycle. Easiest mode of transport.

At a crowded intersection, an adjacent tricycle belched black smoke directly into my face as I sat in the sidecar. It made me nauseous and I wanted to hurl my morning merienda. I forgot to bring Mr. Hanky with me, so I had to cup my nose and mouth with my hands.
It was at that point that I made the declared that I f**king hate tricycles. They are the bane of existence.

I also hate the constant sense of pollution all around. Everything is covered with some layer of dirt either from the fumes spewed from the tricycles, jeepneys, and trucks, or from the dust that is constantly kicked up into the air by these vehicles.

Oh well, I just had to vent about how gross it is outside. I think its starting to grate on my nerves.
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Mom Update

Mom's doing really well. She's fallen into her usual routine:

Wake up early (5:30 - 6am), shower, change, and then sequester herself in her bedroom. She'll typically spend hours and hours in there either watching TV or listening to the radio (both at very high volume, I might add.) One of the first evenings, mom blared Frank Sinatra... amazing. She just lies there and watches the TV/radio.

Mom eats, but on a very different schedule from the rest of us. She's typically 1 or 2 hours off from the usual meal time; she eats in the kitchen (better than eating only in her room), but she doesn't eat with anyone. At first it was disconcerting to the ya-yas, but I reassured them that this was ok. At least she is eating, which is important.

I made an observation before that mom can only focus on one thing at a time, whether that be watching TV, cleaning her room, doing laundry. She's oblivious to most others around her as if she's focused on a mission. Eating is a perfect example. My hypothesis is that she does not eat with the rest of the family because it would be too overwhelming to simultaneously eat and hold conversations with numerous people. Again, that's ok. Its one of the many quirks from her disease that we're all used to at this point.

This isn't to say that she totally ignores everyone. She says her simple hellos and goodbyes in passing in the hallway or in the kitchen. This afternoon, she hung her laundry out to dry (I think that she actually hand-washed her clothes in her room in a basin...) I came out to have a smoke and said hi to her... she responded back with a quick hello; she was very focused on hanging her wet laundry. Its all just very interesting.

I reminded her that we're seeing Dr. B, her new psychiatrist tomorrow morning and she acknowledged, "10:00am, ok?"

"Sure, that's fine."

She, Tess, and I will cram into a tricycle in the morning to go to the clinic. Looking forward to that ride.

We've kept the Risperdal in the kitchen refrigerator with all of the regular food. I bought one of those thermal insulated lunchboxes to keep the drug on ice when we go to the clinic. Much better than carrying that large, ugly, orange, styrofoam container. It looks like you're carrying human body parts around when you're toting that thing. I've thought about keeping the risperdal in the fridge in my mom's room, but have backed off of that idea. At least Tess, can keep track of the number of injectables in stock without having to invade my mom's space.
Tess comes at 8am and at 8pm to give mom her medications, and mom has complied. No worries there at all. The first couple of days, I gave mom her meds... I was overprotective and wanted to see her take her meds with my own eyes. I could tell I was stepping on Tess' toes as she'd show up to give mom her meds, but I'd tell her that I've already done so. I finally backed off and let Tess come and I don't want to take that away from her.

Earlier this week, I wrote down explicit instructions on index cards for Tess. I hate being the micro-manager, but want to ensure that a system is in place by the time that I leave. There were four different cards:

• The contact information and office hours for Dr. B.
• Instructions for managing the supply of mom's oral medications.
• Instructions for managing the supply of Risperdal injections.
• Tips on interacting with mom.
  

The last card was pretty interesting... I can give you an idea of what I wrote:

1. Mom can only focus on one thing at a time (TV, radio, meals, 1-on-1 conversations, topics, etc). Try not to overwhelm her with too much at once or else she'll become agitated and anxious.
2. Mom has set her own schedule for meals. She eats alone. This is ok, just make sure that she's eating regularly.
3. Coke is ok (my mom loves Coke) with meals, but ensure that she consumes water throughout the day to stay hydrated.
4. Mom has minor hallucinations. She may see/smell/hear/taste things that you cannot. Just go along with her and eventually the hallucination will pass.
5. Avoid disagreements with mom (even when she's wrong.) This will make her combative, agitated, and anxious. Just humor her.
6. Mom likes to talk about the following topics: royalty, politics, government, random people and places. Some memories may be false (places she's never been.) Just humor her.
7. Above all, make sure mom never runs out of meds. Make sure she takes her meds in the AM and PM. Escort her to her appointments with Dr. B. Keep a schedule for her Risperdal injections.
   

I stopped by the bookstore to give the index cards to Tess and to review them with her. The main reason for doing this at the store was to allow Tess to ask my aunts or cousins after I had left for help with translation (I wrote everything out in detailed English.) I was very concerned about her absorbing all of this information. Its a lot even for me to remember sometimes. Sometimes I'm afraid that she says "yes" and "I understand" just so that she won't disappoint me. So, I had my sister call Tess later on to check in with her, ensure that she understood the instructions, and clarify any questions she might have. This seemed to work and I feel confident that things will work out.


Until now, I haven't thought too much about mom becoming non-compliant... falling off the wagon, so to speak. I hate to think that it will happen again, but chances are likely that it occur. Statistics and her history are against her... but I really feel like she understands and comprehends the gravity of the situation because I came all the way to the Philippines to help her. I hope she tries her best.

I've set up the best system that I could... if things fall apart, then I'll just jump off that bridge when I get to it.