After a sleepless night on Saturday, I was grateful for the 1 hour window between church and Josh’s LAX game. It was the perfect amount of time to climb into my cozy bed with my plush duvet and take a little siesta. Moments after dozing off, the phone rang. A call from the nursing home. Whenever I see their number appear on the caller id, I can’t help but hold my breath. Experience has conditioned me that when they call, it’s never with good news. Etta had fallen, again. The story is always the same. She attempts to stand on her feet unassisted and fails. She doesn’t understand that she can no longer walk. The fighter in her, the woman who never gives up, every so often, decides to give walking a try. This fall was her worst yet.
The nurse calling explained that Etta had just gotten into bed for an afternoon nap- ironic since I was attempting to do the same. She wanted her light turned off and determined she could do it herself. She fell to the cold, concrete tiled floor, acquiring a 1” laceration across her forehead and on her knee. A bruise immediately appeared on her hand as well. I was informed that she bled profusely alarming both the nurses and Etta herself. As the nurse continued to inform me of her condition, I was gathering my keys and sunglasses to make my way there.
When I arrived, Etta had just returned from the shower- necessary due to the amount of blood that stained her white hair. Though she was upset by the fall, Etta was most concerned with her hair. She asked me to help her “pouf” it up and wanted to be sure that her hair was combed in such a way as to hide her wound. Oh my Etta! Initially, her vitals were monitored every 30 minutes and later, every hour. As time passed, her blood pressure returned to normal and her pulse was within the normal range. However, despite the steri-strip application, the wound continued to bleed through the dressing and would drip into her hair and down her face. The area around the laceration began to swell right before my eyes. I spent the entire afternoon comforting Etta, helping with her wound care, cleaning her hair, observing her behavior, and talking with the doctor/nurses. We enjoyed, in as much as we could, a quiet dinner together in her room.
For hours, we considered whether or not she needed to be transported to the hospital. There was concern about the inability to stop the bleeding and for the swelling. Ultimately, it was determined that she did not need to go to the hospital. I was just as relieved as Etta was to hear this. I didn’t want to put Etta through the ordeal of an ambulance ride to the hospital or the ER environment if it wasn’t necessary. Apart from a couple moments of confusion, she appeared fine considering what she had been through and as an elderly person with Alzheimer’s. At one point, she did ask me if we should call James to let him know about the fall. Before I could respond, she said, “I don’t want to upset him since he is already in the hospital”. This is the at least the 3rd time that she has recently referred to him as still alive. Because I live in her reality when in her presence, I said, “I know you wish he was here.”
Around 8:00pm, I decided I really needed to get home to my children and told Etta I would be leaving. I reassured her that the nurses would call me if there were any changes in her condition and that she could ask them to call me if she wanted me to come back. At this point, I felt confident that she would be fine and sleep soundly. Tearfully, she asked me to stay longer and I told her she needed to get some rest (she was past the window of time in which she was not allowed to sleep). I reminded her that I would be back tomorrow. As she held my hand tightly, she once again told me how grateful she is for all that I do for her. It’s as though she almost understands just how involved I am, but I know she doesn’t. After several hugs and kisses, I offered her some additional reassurance and headed home.
Just before 11pm, I phoned the nursing home to check on Etta and was told that she was sleeping soundly. Tired, I climbed into my cozy bed with my plush duvet for the 2nd time today. I was thankful it wasn’t worse…thankful for another day with her….thankful that I had moved her so close to me...thankful for children who understood when I had to be away from them to tend to their great grandmother…and hopefully, I would wake up thankful for a good night of sleep.
The nurse calling explained that Etta had just gotten into bed for an afternoon nap- ironic since I was attempting to do the same. She wanted her light turned off and determined she could do it herself. She fell to the cold, concrete tiled floor, acquiring a 1” laceration across her forehead and on her knee. A bruise immediately appeared on her hand as well. I was informed that she bled profusely alarming both the nurses and Etta herself. As the nurse continued to inform me of her condition, I was gathering my keys and sunglasses to make my way there.
When I arrived, Etta had just returned from the shower- necessary due to the amount of blood that stained her white hair. Though she was upset by the fall, Etta was most concerned with her hair. She asked me to help her “pouf” it up and wanted to be sure that her hair was combed in such a way as to hide her wound. Oh my Etta! Initially, her vitals were monitored every 30 minutes and later, every hour. As time passed, her blood pressure returned to normal and her pulse was within the normal range. However, despite the steri-strip application, the wound continued to bleed through the dressing and would drip into her hair and down her face. The area around the laceration began to swell right before my eyes. I spent the entire afternoon comforting Etta, helping with her wound care, cleaning her hair, observing her behavior, and talking with the doctor/nurses. We enjoyed, in as much as we could, a quiet dinner together in her room.
For hours, we considered whether or not she needed to be transported to the hospital. There was concern about the inability to stop the bleeding and for the swelling. Ultimately, it was determined that she did not need to go to the hospital. I was just as relieved as Etta was to hear this. I didn’t want to put Etta through the ordeal of an ambulance ride to the hospital or the ER environment if it wasn’t necessary. Apart from a couple moments of confusion, she appeared fine considering what she had been through and as an elderly person with Alzheimer’s. At one point, she did ask me if we should call James to let him know about the fall. Before I could respond, she said, “I don’t want to upset him since he is already in the hospital”. This is the at least the 3rd time that she has recently referred to him as still alive. Because I live in her reality when in her presence, I said, “I know you wish he was here.”
Around 8:00pm, I decided I really needed to get home to my children and told Etta I would be leaving. I reassured her that the nurses would call me if there were any changes in her condition and that she could ask them to call me if she wanted me to come back. At this point, I felt confident that she would be fine and sleep soundly. Tearfully, she asked me to stay longer and I told her she needed to get some rest (she was past the window of time in which she was not allowed to sleep). I reminded her that I would be back tomorrow. As she held my hand tightly, she once again told me how grateful she is for all that I do for her. It’s as though she almost understands just how involved I am, but I know she doesn’t. After several hugs and kisses, I offered her some additional reassurance and headed home.
Just before 11pm, I phoned the nursing home to check on Etta and was told that she was sleeping soundly. Tired, I climbed into my cozy bed with my plush duvet for the 2nd time today. I was thankful it wasn’t worse…thankful for another day with her….thankful that I had moved her so close to me...thankful for children who understood when I had to be away from them to tend to their great grandmother…and hopefully, I would wake up thankful for a good night of sleep.