Sleeping privileges

Dad's Valentines bear (Val) for Mom

Last night must have been a doozy...it makes me sad to know both my Mom and dad were awakened from sleep by a loud knock on the door by a respiratory therapist who was following orders to give a breathing treatment.

I guess maybe if you work here - a place that is well-lit 24x7, with many people on sporadic sleeping schedules, and coffee available at every conveniently located waiting area - you might forget that when it's dark outside most people are sleeping. Some at 8 pm, some at 10 pm, but nevertheless, sleeping. The therapist last night surely will never forget the response he got when he woke Mom. I hope he thinks twice before he bangs on all his patients' doors tonight.

Mom's door will not be one of them. Hers is sporting a new sign ("Sleep Privileges"), which until today was a mystery. This means that between the hours of (I think) 10 pm - 7 am she is not to be awakened for any vitals, bloodwork, breathing treatments, etc. if her door is shut. She has "Privileges!" Lucky her. If we could have only known that this was a possibility, we could have avoided last night's trauma.

Hollywood is calling

Today Mom is full of word salad. Finding humor in this, Sara and I are having fun with it. What else can you do? Mom could get so frustrated and sad at her inability to fully communicate, but keeping her smiling, laughing, rolling her eyes, and being playfully exasperated at us is a better way to handle a stressful situation.

Today, we are deciding who will play Mom in the movie version of her life. Sara picked Susan Sarandon, excellent choice. In Mom's older years, she picked Sophia Loren. We decided she will have to dye her hair, but that's okay, the role is perfect and surely she won't mind.

Then we thought about Jackie Kennedy for the 30-40's, because yes, Mom looked just like her when the Kennedys were in office...so we think Sandra Bullock will be good for that. But Sara said she was too old, to which I took great offense because I think she is my age or even younger. And then the conversation went downhill from that, and we had Mom really into the conversation, it was a lot of fun....

...until a lady came in to draw blood. Apparently she found no humor in our room; she hardly spoke, did her job quickly and quietly and left. I think she was afraid of our not-so-quiet laughing and poking fun at each other while she poked at Mom. Ouch, in two different ways.

After blood lady left, we got back into our happy modes and made some phone calls home. First to Mom's brother Ricky Whitley, and then to her aunt Mary Louise Daughtridge. Mom had nice conversations with them both, telling them how much she loved them, and they told her how much they loved her. Ricky is planting strawberries and cleaning out the garden; Mary Louise is printing this blog for Mom's mama and daddy to read, and she said they are really enjoying it. So hello via the blog to our wonderful North Carolina folks. We miss you and love you, and we are glad to be electronically connected to you.

Studying Mary Claire's masterpieces

Interesting tidbits

Listening to classical music today, mostly orchestral, was pleasant until a piano piece came on. And then it must have hit just the right spot, because Mom sank into the magic bed with a sigh, closed her eyes, and started conducting with her left hand. (Note to self, more piano music.)

Mom said to Mary Louise, "I'm working hard!"
Mary Louise responded, "Of course you are! You're a Whitley!"

Mom was asking for her whole family today and counting them on her fingers. Sara notes that this is what she does when she's shopping for Christmas presents. Mom has trouble with numbers right now, but she knows how many presents to buy, and thus how many people she's wanting to be around her.

Why we're lucky

One last little thought for now. As I was driving to the hospital today, I saw a car with New Mexico license plates, which made me think of when we lived in Clovis, NM, and took car trips to vacation in the mountains north of Santa Fe. It made me think of all the little towns we passed along the way in our white and orange Midas Mini Motorhome, towns that don't have big hospitals and doctors that specialize in glioblastomas, don't have people that carry the title "neurosurgeon." What do they do when they receive a call from their mom's co-workers saying she is talking funny and can't drink her Starbucks (or maybe Circle-K coffee, since in my mind there are no Starbucks in rural New Mexico), and can't type in her computer password? Do they send them home with a Tylenol, do they send them to the hospital, and what does a country doctor do with a brain tumor?

I feel we are very lucky to live here, to have what we have, and to be surrounded by uber-smart, talented, caring professionals who can help us manage this.

And today we are lucky to have sleeping privileges.

Jennifer helps Mom work out her legs and feet.

Mary Claire's art wall

Spirit boosting decor