"Hello?" Mother's groggy voice was deep as she answered the phone. I knew immediately that I needed to get to her apartment as soon as possible. If for no other reason, to give her reassurance that she's not alone. Anxiety courses through me as I rush through breakfast and throw clothes on fast so I can get to her. I have no idea what her symptoms are, but I am a delinquent Clara Barton who was not there at 6 or 7 in the morning.
Guilt and shame are really stupid companions during these times. I could have showered and tossed a load of clothes in the laundry before going. I realized this later in the day. I knew Mother was not in critical need, she was breathing and able to talk, She didn't complain of aches and pains or fever. The extra 15 minutes would have been better spent. But, this is 3 pm hindsight along with the realization that the caregiver's self-care includes showers and laundry.
When I do arrive it is clear that this definitely is the third day of treatment. She feels tired, hardly has any energy. No fever, but a little bit clammy. She can get up and walk to the bathroom, but needs to hold on to my arm as she returns to bed. Today, fluids and nutrition are the key. Actually, that's my goal. Mother's goal is to stay in bed and sleep as much as possible. Every now and then, she announces that she is getting better, especially if one of the family has called in. Then she announces loudly enough for the person on the other end of the phone to hear.
Her breathing is more labored when she sits up or walks. This is something to watch. She breathes easily when sleeping and her oxygen is on. I'm going to look for an oximeter later today.
O God, the source of all health: So fill our hearts with faith in your love, that with calm expectancy we may make room for your power to possess Mother with your healing grace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
