Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Can't Do ANYTHING Right!

My job is hard. It's very rewarding, interesting, heart tugging, tear jerking, frustrating, hilarious and hard. 

For me, physically it is more difficult now than it ever was before. I have a broken ankle, that, yes, it's healing, but it still hurts. It's making my knee hurt, which makes my hips hurt. And, my back.  I'm taking more pain pills now than I was when I first broke the darn thing. I'm hoping my knee is residual and not a different injury all together. 

But, I do love my job.  The people I take care of make me laugh and cry. I enjoy giving them love in return and in some cases, making their last days, comfortable and dignified. 

We do have hospice patients at the Home.  Sometimes, a resident will be put on hospice and will only last days. Sometimes, weeks and even months.  Everyone is different and dying is no exception. 

Ingrid was put on hospice during my first round of employment at the Home. So, that would've been almost three years ago.  Some days, she's barely conscious and doesn't interact with anyone. But, most days, she sits in her recliner, with her door open and yells things at us as we walk by.  She gets lonely. She loves to have her hair brushed, her nails painted and for anyone to come in, sit down and just talk to her.   She does have a catheter and can't walk without assistance.  Her mind, however, is sharp.  As a tack.  That you step on in the middle of the night.  You sort of wish you hadn't encountered it. 

Her sense of humor is my favorite thing about her.  Her comebacks are amazing and her smile lights up the whole room. 

She loves milk. But, milk doesn't agree with her.  One day, she decided to try almond milk. She had it for lunch. And dinner. 

We quickly realized almond milk doesn't like her either.  I think I had to clean her up 3 times.  And, when someone can't stand alone, let alone use the toilet alone, you can imagine how fun it was. For both of us (neither of us??) but it had to be done.
It was during the third cleaning, as she lay naked on her bed, me washing her from head to toe, that she told me she thought she was dying.

Now, she knows she's on hospice, I know she's on hospice so yes, she is dying. But, she meant right then and there, she was going to die.

"Ingrid, why on earth do you think that??"

"Well, LOOK at me!! Have you every seen anyone in this bad of shape?"

"Ingrid, when people are dying, they don't eat 4 cookies, sit and watch Wheel of Fortune, poop or pee. Let alone carry out a conversation about Rachel Ray and whether or not one should get a boob job!" (yes, really)

She flops back on the bed, still totally naked.

"Oh for God's sake, I can't even DIE right!!"

Like I said, I love my job. 

Sunday, June 7, 2015

Pill Poppin'

As I look down my page here, I see that my posts have been pretty dark and dreary as of late ( like 2 posts in 6 months can be considered "as of late") and I don't like that. Time to change directions.

Had to take Jeven (just turned 9) to the dentist in the middle of church today.  First time we've ever had to call a dentist on a weekend and use the emergency line. 

He was playing with his friends and he and another younger boy collided.  Jeven's mouth hit Seth's head.  Jeven doesn't cry often, so when I saw him crying, holding his mouth, I feared the worst.  Upon inspection, I saw a fat lip and not much else.  When he STILL was crying, I checked his teeth to see if any had been knocked loose.  One permanent tooth, right in front, started to bleed when I pushed on it. 

Now, we've used butterfly bandages, even super glue, here to save us some doctor bills.  But, I will not have my kid looking like a hillbilly with one dead tooth in the front of his adorable face. 

Thankfully, the dentist met us and thoroughly examined him and declared him far from hillbilly status.  When I expressed my gratitude and apologized for interrupting his Sunday, he insisted it is certainly better safe than sorry with permanent teeth and, he confessed, it was his third trip into the office this weekend.  Turns out boys are sort of accident prone. Who knew? (I did. I knew.) 
The dentist suggested offering Jeven some ibuprofen to help with any aches he might have. 

When we got home, I got out the ibuprofen tablets and asked Jeven if he'd ever swallowed a pill before.  (I honestly couldn't remember which of my children have done it. I have four. And most pain relief is given in the middle of the night. My brain gets fuzzy. Don't judge.)

Jeven then proceeded to give this monologue that had his dad and I in stitches.  And, he said it all totally straight faced and serious: 

"Yes, I've swallowed pills before.
At Nana and Papa's house. But, Nana's are the sleepy kind.  Actually, they aren't 'profen kind at all, just sleepy kind.
And, we don't even ask for them.  She just has them set out for us.  And, like a long time before bedtime, too.  Jarrett and I take half pills. But, last time?  She set out whole pills for each of us. So, yes, I can take a pill, mom."

In Nana's defense, the "sleepy pills" are melatonin because my kids do tend to have a little trouble sleeping  places other than their own home. And, she's clarified with me that it's okay to give it to them.  I just never clarified with the boys what was going to happen. So, apparently, Jeven thinks Nana REALLY wants him to sleep. ( :