Into the Bathroom

“Will you come with me” he asked as he sidled himself up next to me as I was walking down the hall. “Where to?” I asked, trying to be funny and nice to this Uncle Fester looking man. “Into the bathroom” he mumbled.

“Oh no, I can’t help you, I don’t know where the bathroom is here” I responded, wondering if he was lost and could not find the bathroom or his room. There are those seniors here who are disoriented or totally gone.

The gentleman followed me into my mother’s room. I gently told him “you can’t use the bathroom here”. “LISTEN” he hissed, “do you want to do it or not?”

That was a dialogue between me and a man in the nursing home. He was a resident, not a worker thankfully, but he threw me totally off guard. I looked at him and said “My mother is sick, you can’t come in here, and NO, I DON’T WANT TO DO IT!”

I was stunned –twisted-shocked.

This occurred right after walking into my mother’s room, seeing her on her side, unable to get up any more, no dignity left, bruised and swollen from the doctors trying to get IV’s into her. She has a fever, and she allowed the doctors to place a naso-gastro tube in her. However, the machine that helps suck out the fluids is broken. They are searching for another. She lies moaning in pain until the nurse comes in to give her some morphine.

The room smells, I have asked them to come and change the bedding.

My mother knows I am here. She gives me her best shot at a smile, and squeezes my hand. I cry, mumbling that we will make her comfortable, and rub her legs. I feel helpless in this descent, but I try to comfort in the best way I know how.

They say she has an ileus, which is an obstruction of the bowel. It can pass, but we do not know what is causing it. She does not want to go to the hospital, and she does not want anything invasive.

I do not want her to suffer, but the voice in my head tells me that I should pray for the best outcome for her…whatever that may be in her karma.

Larry is coming home to take me back to see her for a while. Fortunately I am only 20 minutes away.

But for myself, I went to Gina for a magical massage so that I am less stressed. I am having a small glass of wine as I wait for Larry to come home. He is late. My stomach hurts. Off to find some cold cucumber for my eyes and remind myself to b r e a t h e.

Patti O Pickup