2001
| March 17, 2001 I had decaf and non-fat non-sugar non-caffeine coffee this AM and a decaf at work. I keep restarting the diet that I need to stay on long enough to drop about 30-40 lbs. I put this weight on while sitting and fretting at the hospital. It's why my hips don't work right. It's why my stomach doesn't work right (not supposed to gain when you have a double-layered metal mesh stomach). It's why I am short of breath. Well, the stress probably has a lot to do with that. I had a diet soda and my son's leftover dinner for lunch - with two sugar cookies (dinner portion was 1/4 can peas, 1/4 can sliced potatoes, 1/4 can cream soup, a few pieces of chicken). I had lunch at 2PM when I came home to try to get him to rehab. I got him in the shower. I did not motivate him to go to rehab. I did try. We have our up and down days. I did the gym (OUCH!) since I was home, he was prone in bed, and he told me to go. It seems I went from 3 days a week to 2 days a week to 1 day a week and then skipped a week. Oh no you don't! Back I went. This, of course, does not count arm lifts of the wheelchair in and out of the back of the truck, support for my son when he feels wobbly, and hanging with all my weight off a 30-foot bougainvillea vine and dragging it brute force out of the top of my liquid amber tree. Try more than one vine. And five hours of yard work. I have the scratches to prove it. I made fillet for dinner - black angus style - a small piece - with salad and carrot sticks - regular dressing and regular veggie dip (1 and 2 Tblsp. each) I had an Oreo because it was there. I may have had another sugar cookie - because it was there. Must move them out of sight, out of mind, out of reach. But I was doing well. I bragged about this. Wrong move. At 8pm - my chemo-disabled younger son - the little stinker - who had showered but refused rehab - pitched a fit because I didn't hear him call from the living room where he had been sprawled to watch TV. I had retired to my room - being tired of wrestling and the like. I had enough of being a captive audience for that stuff during the 8 months he was in the hospital. He hobbled to the bathroom, pissed off (he had his walker), (ever see anyone be pissed off with a walker? Clump! mumble! mumble! Clump! mumble! mumble!) To pacify him, I acceded to his demand to go to the kitchen and "bake Christmas bread" because I "had promised" while he was in the hospital. I did - bake the bread and had a big hunk (he had less). I managed to burn the butter but not the bread. It was caught in the nick of time - he banged on the wall to alert me (his favorite way of communicating with his mother) - as smoke was beginning to come from the kitchen. The butter from the folded over dough had slid off the new side-less cookie sheet and was decorating the bottom of my oven. Smoking. His new bed headboard is not connected (I don't have the tool, and Ward's went out of business). This is handy because he can easily rattle it against the wall and I will wake up in the dead of night and stumble disoriented into his room. He may want a drink or a blanket or just to fuss. In the daytime, he uses it to keep me from a nap (weekends) or from a moment's rest (evenings). This cracks him up. I had been relatively good all day long......then the bread.....UGH! I had another diet soda - double UGH! The shower episode......He sat on a seat because he didn't feel well. Cancer patients go up and down. And he is on reduced chemo because he is so fragile. Nevertheless he had been subjected to Methydrexate about 7-10 days back - and of course his counts are dropping. They put blood into him on Tuesday and said he might need platelets next week.So, on these days, he is weaker and paler and I have to be careful. I put him into the shower. I am trying to get him in the shower more than once a week and trying to wash his sheets several times a week. That and the blankets he uses - in lieu of clothes. Stretch marks are wide and raw and tender so clothing - with elastic - is uncomfortable. I remind him that when his counts are down he must be more careful. This is the argument I used to get him into the bath. He washed himself - after he bitched that I had cold hands, that the shampoo was cold, that the shower curtain was touching him. Nothing was right. I said that the shower curtain was to protect the floor and me. Actually, there are two of them - a big one with a liner that covers the back and the remains of the one the cat shredded that I use to keep the new bathroom cabinet dry - I stand holding the two together while he is inside splashing water in all directions. Much like when he was a young thing. No, wait. It was his brother who was the fish. Tried to drown every bathroom I every put him in. I was in underwear and a purple Delta Burke short nightgown - purple - and bare foot. I had been at work in velvet - not good for showers. I had grabbed whatever was handy. Sooo, he stood up, since his nether regions must also be cleaned, difficult to do while sitting. And as he stood..... he wobbled. I have a tension pole in there for gripping and a towel hung over it so there is a grip at all levels. Oh no. That wasn't good enough! He grabbed the extension cord for the hand-held shower mount instead of me or the tension bar. (It's why I am there too - to break his fall in case he falls.) It twisted......the shower unit that is.... right smack into my face - full force - high speed shower. Soaked me clean through (pleased him no end). I discarded the nightgown because it became cold and clammy and was sticking to me, which left me in my underwear. At my age and weight, this is not a site you want to see. I walked him from the shower (I hold a towel over him) in my state of undress - because there was to time to grab anything else for me. When he must get out, he must get out quick. Some picture huh? Thoroughly chastised, I went to the gym after that - and did pretty good - I'd missed two weeks but I had been doing yard work, etc and played at weights in the living room. My shortness of breath is the weight. No doubt. And he was adamant that I go to the gym. He can be very demanding. I kissed his little bald head anyway. |
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