Yesterday was a tough day for all three of us. Mom, she's, I think, pissed that she's dying, or maybe still thinks she can get out of this mess, and all the "extra attention" is getting on her nerves. Dad, struggling himself with this mortality stuff and trying to squeeze the most out of his life, which is really hard to do when you're not getting enough sleep. Me, burning out. All day over there, reading aloud, worrying about her every move, not living my own life, really. In the afternoon, when she starts up, "home, home, home, home..." I lost it, tears streaming down my face, the look of desperation on her face so heartbreaking. I made Dad take her out for a drive around the "block," just to get her out of the house for a few minutes. It seemed to help.
We were expecting the hospital bed yesterday afternoon, and it never came. We had already stored the twin bed upstairs under the eaves, and so by six o'clock, after a phone call or two with the agency, it was clear they were not delivering the bed and so we had to bring the twin mattress, box spring and frames back down the stairs, and make the bed again for Mom. It didn't take too much time or effort, but added up with the whole stress of the day, the situation, it was really aggravating. We should get the bed today.
Mom had a visit from Michelle in the morning, then from our Nurse Corrin at one in the afternoon. We discussed more sleep management action plans, and I think Dad feels even more support in that area. Nurse Corrin stressed how vital it is for Dad to get good sleep, because he is Mom's primary care giver.
This Saturday and Saturday night we should have a bit of respite with my brother and SIL, and Sunday my gig has been cancelled. I'll have my gig on Saturday night.. I think I need to get away for a minute.
Today, we meet with a chaplain provided by the agency.
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