It's amazing how important numbers are in my life when they pertain to Joe. Every morning it's check the blood sugar - too high means it's a booster of Humalog on a sliding scale that's posted on the refrigerator. You would think that after all this time I'd have it memorized, but I don't. So instead of pictures or additional refrigerator magnets, I have a "sliding scale" chart.
Then there is the amount of pills given throughout the course of the day in four separate intervals. Those are sorted out by me usually one afternoon or evening for the next upcoming four weeks. I put out Joe's breakfast meds in a little cup and then put the remaining pills away. If I leave them out, he has a tendency to think it's time to take the next series of pills not realizing it's not time for them. Even that is going to have to change since I discovered a half chewed pill laying underneath the dining room table. I'd found a similar situation in the kitchen the day before. Since B.J. the Dog is now in the house I'm quite sure he's the one doing the pill chewing and discovering it's not to his liking. So, it looks like I'll be placing the pills in Joe's mouth for now one if we don't want Cujo the Dog living with us after an adverse reaction to Joe's meds.
Joe got lost in the bedroom again last night. I only discovered that when I went in to get dressed. It looked like a tornado had hit the room. Items pushed off pieces of furniture; the artificial tree lying on its side; the trashcan overturned. But Joe was in the bed so he eventually found the bed. I still have to wrap my mind around why it's so hard for him to find the bed. All he has to do is walk straight into the bedroom from the doorway about four steps, stick out his left arm and there's the bed.
----------------------------------------------
This morning was so hectic. It was one of those mornings when it was so many little things that evolved into one big mess.
I got up before Joe - 6:30 this morning since I had an 8:00 a.m. meeting that required my attendance. I'd already found his clothing for the day and laid it on the dining room table. I'd already packed his dialysis bag with his juice and a snack. I'd already found him a woolen cap for his head and hung his coat on the chair. Now it was time for me to get ready.I was enjoying my nice warm shower to the very end until Joe walked into the bathroom, couldn't shut the door because of clothing he'd taken off and there went all my warmth. Then I begged for a moment to at least let me get on my underwear before having to assist him with which way his "diaper" went. (I'd already gone and opened up a new package, taken a Sharpie and marked the back of the Depends with a prominent heavy spot to help indicate the back of it). That didn't work for Joe this morning. That's when I discovered the three places on the mattress where his diaper had leaked sometime this morning. Thank goodness there was a pad under the largest spot. Sheets were stripped from the bed - poured some powder on one spot and would deal with it all when I come home later on tonight. Then it was on to helping slide Joe's diaper on and still needing to get ready.
I finally succeeded in getting dressed, running outside to clear the snow and ice from the car, throwing salt on the sidewalk, but still had to take blood sugars and make sure he was ready to go. That's when I noticed the blue fingernails and lips. Oh my gosh - where was his oxygen tubing?! How long had he been off that? And, oh no, I'd forgotten about his portable tank! With time running out, I had to replace tanks. First time doing it with this one and it wasn't easy when you are in a hurry. Aw crap, the first tank didn't show any oxygen. Now it was on to the second tank and trying to line up those little nipples to the regulator. Heck where was my Dollar Tree reading glasses - gotta find them. I finally managed to get it fastened together and give instructions to Joe. During this time, I'd watch Joe try to figure out how to put his woolen beanie on his head. Yes, I snatched it from his hands and put it on his head. Then he was trying to turn his coat inside out and yes, I took that away too and hung it on the dining room chair with instructions to not bother for the next hour.
I finally got my shoes on and left. I didn't leave feeling good about leaving Joe this morning. There were too many variables that could go wrong, i.e. not putting his coat on; trying to maneuver his oxygen tank (if he remembered to take it at all) and his dialysis bag; walking down the snow/ice covered sidewalk to the bus; did he remember to let B.J. the Dog out one last night; did he shut all the doors that needed shutting; did he leave his hat on his head and put on his gloves, etc., etc., etc. It was then that I decided he'd be leaving with me in the mornings from now on as long as he's got this oxygen thing going on and if the weather is crappy.
Yes, I finally made it to work - late.
---------------------------------------------
I got a phone call from dialysis. Joe had apparently had a major accident and I needed to have him cleaned up. I was told I could pick him up, take him home for a shower and bring him back. When I arrived, he was hooked up to oxygen, backside of his pants were very wet and he wasn't acting quite lucid. He had worn no coat and had not brought his portable oxygen with him when leaving the house. His reason...they were locked inside the house. Even then, that shouldn't have been a problem since he knows (under "normal" circumstances that there is a spare key in the mailbox which he has used on numerous occasions. Then I wondered why they would have been locked in the house. About that time, we arrived at the house and I figured it out and he confirmed it...Joe's wet bottom came from the fact that he had come outside and sat in the snow/ice covered patio chair to wait for the bus. There is no telling how long he'd sat outside in the freezing weather without his coat and gloves waiting on the bus and with no oxygen and an ever increasingly wet bottom.
This confirms to me that he can't be left alone any longer to wait for the bus.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment