One year ago...............
When I questioned mom about using the bedpan rather than the commode, she told me that when this particular aide worked she always made her use the bedpan AND she had woken mom up the past two mornings so mom could “try” to go. “It’s OK, it’s just hard to get back to sleep”, mom was resigned to it being the way things were.
complications. Even when she wasn't in a flare, moms’ crippled hands made it difficult for her to hold things and impossible to open things; the deformities in her feet made it painful to stand; her “good” knee, as well as her shoulders; wrists; hips and ankles made a grinding sound every time she moved; and a good day was any day that her pain could be brought down to a 3 on the pain scale. Of course, she has lived with RA for 50+ years, so a “3” for mom would probably be a twelve for me.
pulled in to a parking space, a voice in my head reminded me I was never alone; I sat in my car and prayed. Another voice reminded me the course we were on was, somehow, the road we were intended to travel; that I was not powerful enough to have in any way altered the course that God intended. I was feeling better by the time I inserted the key in to my hotel room lock; not so alone.
something out of place. I had almost pulled the door closed when my sight landed on something that certainly hadn't been there when I left that morning. I just stood there staring; wanting to know who had left it and how they got in. I nearly jumped out of my skin when my cell phone rang in my hand.