Two steps forward, one step back. We do a little dance with dementia and frailty and bodily functions that disappoint. When we think we have gotten over the final hurdles and finally started on the road to better health, the road dips, and we stumble.
So at present, it seems we have taken one step back. About a week ago, Mom had an episode. A little weakness, a little confusion. A lot of consternation. Then followed a visit to a specialist, and an investigative procedure.
I came back after a short time away, and noticed the difference. A certain hesitancy, a reluctance to get up. Vague eyes. Fewer words. A drunkard’s gait.
Showers taken at unusual times, and repeated at hourly intervals. Medicines swallowed hours before they’re due.
My doctor friend encouraged vigorous and sustained rehabilitation. “Don’t give up, you must keep at it.”
Let’s go for a walk, Mom.
Sit and rest awhile, Mom.
Let’s continue walking, Mom.
Raise your arms ten times. Let’s count, Mom. How many was that? Can you count louder? You must count. That’s Four. Keep counting. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. One more. Ten. That was slow, Mom. We’ll count faster tomorrow.