The Blink of an Eye

Early on Tuesday morning, I heard through the rumour mill that our medical health officer would be announcing a phased easing of restrictions later that afternoon. Bliss! My heart filled planning family visits, indoor restaurant dining, and a weekend away. Two hours later I was at the vet with a badly dehydrated cat who had not eaten for five days. A few hours after that I was sitting by the prone body of my mother, as we waited for an ambulance. And later that afternoon I was by my mother’s side when she was told that she had broken a hip. In the blink of an eye, the anticipation of life returning to normal was shot to hell!

In the blink of an eye, the horizon for this aging woman, my 86 year-old mother, shifted drastically. My mother, who exercises five times a week, walks daily, eats healthy, enjoys a busy social life, and who had never once fallen.

My mother had been sitting on the couch putting on her socks and shoes so she could walk to the communal dining room to get a cup of coffee. She stood up and fell, her one shoe wasn’t on quite right. She does not carry an alarm button. None of the alarms available in her apartment were within easy reach, so she dragged herself to her front door to shout for help. A neighbour heard her, 911 was called, and a staff person sat with her until I arrived. Lying there waiting for the ambulance my mother said, it hurts but I doubt anything is broken, the pain is not that bad. She had to wait for over two hours for an ambulance. This is the only complaint we have about the care she received, but we understand that with COVID, the ambulance needs to be cleaned from top to bottom every time they carry a patient, which results in longer delays. The quality of medical care my mother has received has been exemplary - every senior, in fact, every human being, should be able to access this level of care.

The paramedics were calm and spoke slowly and clearly through their masks so she could understand what was happening. This is something that has impressed me with all the medical professionals we have encountered so far in this journey, they have communicated with my mother, not through me.

My mother had surgery on Wednesday night and a physiotherapist had her standing and taking a few steps 18 hours after her surgery. She can go home once she can confidently walk with a walker. She keeps asking when she can go home. She does not want to come and stay with us while she recuperates, she is adamant that she wants to go home, to her own apartment, to her friends, and to the staff who are eager to have her come home. As some of you know from an earlier blog post, we moved her closer to us last summer as she needed a supportive community. She now lives in a subsidized, independent seniors housing facility operated by a non-profit organization. She receives three meals a day, snacks, weekly housekeeping, and daily activities and outings. Another thing every senior should be entitled to – quality, affordable, and supportive housing.

My mother is of that generation of stoic women who do not complain. She is a trooper. She has been poked and prodded and has lost track of the number of medications she has been given. She has done every exercise the physiotherapists have walked her through, despite the pain. She tries hard not to bother her nurses, even when she desperately needs some more pain meds or a bedpan. She engages the other women in her room in long conversations and offers to help although she can barely walk. And she has a kind word for every single one of the health professionals she meets. Now my mother, like many women her age, has no filters and can say the most outrageous things. But I have only had to cringe once and that was when she said to her orthopedic surgeon that she had to tell him something that might be rude. I braced myself, I know I am not responsible for my mother’s words but there many times she has embarrassed me with her comments. Her surgeon is married to our family doctor. She said to him, I’m sorry if this is the wrong thing to say but you are much older than your wife. There was a pregnant pause and then he laughed and said, yes I am, and doesn’t that make me a lucky man!

I am the only family member allowed to visit my mother in the hospital. I am also the only person allowed to visit her at home. Over the last few days, I have met with a social worker, occupational therapist, physiotherapist, case coordinator, home support, and the manager at her seniors’ residence as we get her ready to go home. I have taken photos of her apartment so it can be made accessible, measured the height of furniture, researched private home support, and spent long days at the hospital. My life has also changed in the blink of an eye.

My mother will need 24/7 care for two to three weeks once she leaves the hospital. In-home physiotherapy and home support will be available through the health authority and she will need private care. I will also be helping with her care and we will be spending long days together. My mother’s life positive attitude, stubbornness, and determination will help on this stretch of the river as she rows north. We may both acquire some bruises from encountering rapids but I expect that for the most part, we will be rowing through calm waters.

My cat, you ask? Boogs, our 16-year old senior cat, had a low white blood cell count and was weak from lack of food and water. The vet recommended taking him to the emergency animal hospital so he could be fed intravenously while they did some further tests. We balked at the $2000 cost and decided to give it another 24-hours. That night he ate a bit. The next morning he jumped on the kitchen counter, impatient to be fed. He is now on antibiotics just in case there is an infection but he is chowing down, howling to go outdoors, and purring up a storm.