Chapter 542 - Bad Times Good Times Come and Go
I have been puzzling how to interest her in watching more streamed TV "entertainment" as a distraction away from cleaning scratches and join marks on our timber floor, scraping carpet with knives (plastic as well as metal), spoons, pieces of cardboard etc making fluff balls which are considered "dirt", rubbing furniture and doorways with tissues or rubbing damp tissues beneath her shoes upon the timber floor. Just a short time ago she began clicking the streaming remote control, found something of interest, lost it, then I helped her find a continuation episode of a Xmas soap set in a mythical European kingdom where royalty speak with a Yank accent. The mop, bucket, small broom and dust pan, or the multi headed duster, no longer hold her interest for her cleaning activities.
At yesterday's Xmas meeting of the Dementia Carers' Group, and for this meeting the cared for were invited but I hesitated to involve her, I realised the few dementia sufferers who attended were different from her, in that they looked "normal", some were quiet and reserved while others were outgoing. She on the other hand, exhibits PD facial expressions, has slurred speech and dystonic movements in her upper body all of which look "normal" to me at home.
Her Aunt H died last week, 16 days short of her 95th birthday. I was prepared to drive to the funeral in Big Smoke next Monday but she declined to go, not even if transport was arranged by Wild Dog Carers.
I continue to limit her protein intake during the day time. The dyskinesias gradually became more pronounced at night time, then in the morning after waking. Until last Sunday when after showering she asked the Wild Dog carer to take her back to bed, where she remained awake, kicking violently until lunch time when I dressed her, gave her lunch before taking her down the street for some shopping. She bought a number of balls of wool which I doubt will ever be knitted; at least one is already a knotted mess. A magazine from the newsagents and a milkshake at the coffee shop opposite. A statutory declaration relating to her aunt's burial was signed and witnessed by a pharmacist, before returning home. Since that day I have given her a bolus dose (2.0 ml) each morning at the first sign of dyskinesia after the duodopa pump has been set for daytime running; consequently, each day this week has been largely free of dyskinesia.
All being quiet just now, I went looking for her. Found the ice cream I had given her melting on the table/trolley near the TV before finding her seated on the loo. "It was urgent" she said, but of course much slower that calling me on her mobile. She was sitting there, having pulled her incontinence pants and pad apart, fluffy bits of lining scattered all around her on the floor. No answer why she had done that, reminded me of a small child inspecting his nappy. Replaced pants, pad and the "bluey" (skid marks on it) on the wheel chair. Big turd in the toilet bowl. Vacuumed the finer bits of fibre from the floor. Another ice cream back at the TV.
In an attempt to help her eat more of her evening meal I bought a $599 blender to make mush of meat and vegetables for her to swallow more easily. My first attempt with a slice of grilled salmon worked brilliantly; she finished her meal before I did. Not so since; everything has been "too dry", too tasteless.
My collection of symptoms is increasing. A visit to the GP after I realised my left ear is almost completely deaf; being only just able to detect the voice from the hearing aid that speaks the settings which are so faint I don't hear words. The GP says my left ear is not clogged with wax, although I can't quite believe him, but after a scheduled hearing test in a few days, the GP will send me to an ENT person. This morning after getting her ready for a Wild Dog carer to shower her I realised my upper right lip and the tip of my tongue were tingling, lasting maybe 10 seconds, so it may have been some medication or other chemical transferred from finger tips to mouth.
At yesterday's Xmas meeting of the Dementia Carers' Group, and for this meeting the cared for were invited but I hesitated to involve her, I realised the few dementia sufferers who attended were different from her, in that they looked "normal", some were quiet and reserved while others were outgoing. She on the other hand, exhibits PD facial expressions, has slurred speech and dystonic movements in her upper body all of which look "normal" to me at home.
Her Aunt H died last week, 16 days short of her 95th birthday. I was prepared to drive to the funeral in Big Smoke next Monday but she declined to go, not even if transport was arranged by Wild Dog Carers.
I continue to limit her protein intake during the day time. The dyskinesias gradually became more pronounced at night time, then in the morning after waking. Until last Sunday when after showering she asked the Wild Dog carer to take her back to bed, where she remained awake, kicking violently until lunch time when I dressed her, gave her lunch before taking her down the street for some shopping. She bought a number of balls of wool which I doubt will ever be knitted; at least one is already a knotted mess. A magazine from the newsagents and a milkshake at the coffee shop opposite. A statutory declaration relating to her aunt's burial was signed and witnessed by a pharmacist, before returning home. Since that day I have given her a bolus dose (2.0 ml) each morning at the first sign of dyskinesia after the duodopa pump has been set for daytime running; consequently, each day this week has been largely free of dyskinesia.
All being quiet just now, I went looking for her. Found the ice cream I had given her melting on the table/trolley near the TV before finding her seated on the loo. "It was urgent" she said, but of course much slower that calling me on her mobile. She was sitting there, having pulled her incontinence pants and pad apart, fluffy bits of lining scattered all around her on the floor. No answer why she had done that, reminded me of a small child inspecting his nappy. Replaced pants, pad and the "bluey" (skid marks on it) on the wheel chair. Big turd in the toilet bowl. Vacuumed the finer bits of fibre from the floor. Another ice cream back at the TV.
In an attempt to help her eat more of her evening meal I bought a $599 blender to make mush of meat and vegetables for her to swallow more easily. My first attempt with a slice of grilled salmon worked brilliantly; she finished her meal before I did. Not so since; everything has been "too dry", too tasteless.
My collection of symptoms is increasing. A visit to the GP after I realised my left ear is almost completely deaf; being only just able to detect the voice from the hearing aid that speaks the settings which are so faint I don't hear words. The GP says my left ear is not clogged with wax, although I can't quite believe him, but after a scheduled hearing test in a few days, the GP will send me to an ENT person. This morning after getting her ready for a Wild Dog carer to shower her I realised my upper right lip and the tip of my tongue were tingling, lasting maybe 10 seconds, so it may have been some medication or other chemical transferred from finger tips to mouth.
posted by Kilpike | 2:30 pm
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