Kneeling beside the bed

She wasn’t in her room, but I found her in the dining room by herself this afternoon, staring at a plate of spaghetti and a saucer of shrimp. I think she ate some of the food, but couldn’t get up from the table. The chairs do not have wheels, and don’t slide well on the deep carpet.

I didn’t think to cut the spaghetti up to make it easier to fork. Several days ago I found her staring at some roast beef slices, wondering how to eat them. I took her knife and cut it up into one inch squares, and she eagerly ate the whole thing. She forgets how to cut up her food sometimes, I think. We should live in Japan, where all food is cut into bite sized pieces before it is served.

After talking with her at the table for a few minutes, I asked if she was ready to leave, and she nodded assent. I pulled the chair away from the table, but she wasn’t able to get up on her own. So I took both hands and lifted her. She was nearly completely limp, and had trouble standing when I got her up on her feet. So I just held her in a hug for a minute until she got her balance, and then I led her back to the room holding both of her hands and backing up. 

Two of her nurses from Guardian Hospice showed up and we talked about how Carolyn was doing, and they seemed a little surprised that I had made her bed up the night before. I excused myself while they took care of Carolyn, and dozed in the library for a few minutes. They came in and woke me up, and told me Carolyn was sleeping also, and said she almost went to sleep before they could get her into bed.

I decided not to wake her, but to return for a visit in the evening. That’s when she is most awake anyhow. Getting over this bug seems to require a lot of sleep. Especially at siesta time in the afternoon.

As I pulled up and parked at about 7:00 PM I noticed her room lights were out. I opened the door to complete darkness, so I flipped on the light switch for the front room, and saw Carolyn kneeling by the bed as if she were praying. I knelt beside her, as she was crying, to find out if she had fallen and hurt herself. She was able to tell me she didn’t hurt, but couldn’t move. She was on the wrong side of the bed to pull the alarm cord to summon a nurse for help, too.

Pulling back to observe the scene, I saw that her left foot was caught in the spokes of a wheelchair, and she was wedged between the wheelchair and the bed, so she couldn’t extract her foot. I couldn’t lift her foot out of the wheel until I dragged the wheelchair away from the bed. I didn’t know how long she had been in that position, and I worried some, knowing the circulation can be cut off and major paralysis can occur. 

She was OK, though, just needing a little help to get to her feet. I hugged her some more, and let her down easy while I checked to make sure she could still stand without help. She said she needed to go to the bathroom, so I led her there and got her pajama pants and ‘pull ups’ down to her knees and carefully sat her on the toilet. She was probably trying to get to the bathroom when she got stuck getting out of bed.

While she sat on the toilet with the bathroom door open, someone came down the hall and opened the main door, as a bunch of the staff came down the hall singing Christmas carols. That upset Carolyn as she still has a little modesty when surprised on the pot, so I went and closed the door, waving the carolers away for a bit.

I helped her get her drawers and pants up after she wiped herself, and we went down the hall to see what the commotion was all about. We figured out the staff was all assembled for an employee Christmas party, so we pulled up some easy chairs and sat down to watch. They had a big bottle of champagne on the table so I poured about half a red plastic tumbler full for me. Carolyn wanted to try it, so I poured another for her. She started to chug-a-lug it down, and it made her cough. After I got her to sip it, she liked it fine.

She settled in and enjoyed the party. The champagne made her face feel warm, she said, and I noticed her smiling and laughing more, too. Unlike me, alcohol makes her happy and excited. Always has. Me, I just get sleepy and look for a dark corner to nap in. 

All the staff exchanged presents from under the tree, and then they played “Dirty Santa”, taking turns taking gifts from one another and laughing a lot. They played a game of musical chairs with a hula hoop, everybody holding hands in a circle and passing the hoop from person to person, climbing through it to get it by to the next person. When the music stopped, the person with the hoop dropped out. When they got down to two people, there was hula hoop contest, which didn’t last long. Neither hoop made more than a turn before they hit the floor. I don’t know who won.

Anyway, after about half an hour she wanted to go back to the room, as the front lobby was chilly. She had finished her champagne, so when I got up to help her, she stood up and started walking down the hall. There is no doubt in my mind that alcohol seems to have a profound effect on her brain and nervous system. She became much stronger, more animated, and seemed to talk plainer. I wonder if there is any literature on this phenomenon in the medical realm.

She had no trouble climbing into her bed, ready to sleep. I moved the wheelchair across the room, and replaced it beside the bed with a rectangular footstool, which should provide a place for her to roll out and hold on to as she gets out of bed. At least it will shorten any fall.

I wished her a good night, told her I will be back in the morning for sure, “because I love you, and I’ll never leave you!” She loves the reassurance.

I’m hoping she has a good night. Maybe the champagne will help. If it works well, I may stop in every evening for a nightcap with her.