WHAT A DIFFERENCE A WEEK MAKES

 

 KITTENS ARE NO LONGER CONTENT TO STAY IN A BASKET 

 WHOA THERE DUSTIN...YOU'RE EATING THE BOWL!

THOUGHT I'D SHARE A PHOTO OF ELLIOT AND TIMMY

SHARING A BED BY THE WINDOW

 

Misty and her three rambunctious youngsters continue to thrive. At the tender age of 6 weeks, Dustin, Simon, and Sofie are climbing, jumping, and running all over the place. They discovered the cat condo and today I watched them all climb up the condo and into the window sill. Misty lies in the floor and plays with them and they love jumping on her and grabbing her tail. She seems like a very patient mama cat and I'm reasonably sure she's weaning them on her own. That's preferable to separating the little family. I always foster kittens for at least 8 weeks before offering them for adoption since it gives them more time to become socialized and a better chance to naturally make the transition from mama's milk to kitten chow. It's been quite awhile since I've even seen Misty nursing the kittens so that's a good sign, though I miss watching them nurse then fall asleep, safe and secure, within the protective paws of their mama.

 

I wish everything else had gone as well this week. On Monday, my mother fell in the assisted living facility (the 5th time falling in three weeks), broke her right upper arm, and fractured her pelvis in two places. She was sent to the hospital by ambulance and I received a call at 7:30pm to meet her there. What a night that was. She was screaming in pain and didn't know where she was or what had happened. After numerous attempts to relieve her pain, the emergency room doctors and nurses finally found the level of pain medication adequate to give her some peace. She was admitted to the hospital and remained there for 48 hours. I met with the Trauma Team, the hospital Wound Specialist, and several Hospice representatives. It was by mutual agreement that she not undergo surgery, but rather wear an arm sling and observe bedrest until she was able to begin some form of physical therapy. She is back in her room at Lamplight Inn now and remains mostly incoherent, which could be due to the advancement of Alzheimer's, the effects of pain medication, another stroke, or all three.

 

I can't say I was shocked to hear she'd fallen again. My sisters and I knew it was just a matter of time before she broke some bones. The staff at Lamplight has always stressed that Mom needed to use her walker, but Mom, being the strong-willed person she is, never wanted to use it and would walk away from it at every opportunity. On Monday evening, she finished supper in the dining room and left the table without her walker, though her nurse had placed it beside her chair and reminded her to use it. My dear mother walked around the walker and toddled into the hallway where she fell as shocked residents watched helplessly. I suppose it's a blessing that Mom has no memory of falling but it's frustrating to know I can't even say, "See what happens when you don't use your walker?" That would serve no useful purpose since she's totally unaware she did this to herself. She's completely bed bound now and as much as I want to be hopeful, every time I visit her I come away convinced this is not going to end well.  My worst fear has been realized and my mother seems to be in a downward spiral that I can't stop. I've been told I have a "fixer" personality, but I surely can't fix this.