Monday, October 13, 2014

Yesterday and today were true trials. And I must admit, I failed both days. Mom has the runs, but no knowledge of this problem. I am showering her several times a day, and each time, she emerges with no understanding of why she required multiple showers. I clean the bathroom and do laundry endlessly. My water bill will probably be the highest in the neighborhood, the Commonwealth maybe. Between showering mom, washing her clothing and bedding, washing the bathroom and every fixture, door knob, faucet, and piece of woodwork in the house. I am the bane of eco-nuts everywhere, using more water and product than any of their stingy souls would countenance. The house reeks of Lysol (I used the concentrate). I also use a prodigious amount of paper towels, too. I have given up on using washcloths. I now limit myself to the disposable kind, sparing my washing machine and dryer in the process. Immodium, god of many names, do your stuff.

Mom is in the bathroom now. I have lost count as to how many trips she made today. I took all the paper out of the room, including paper towels. (She is not averse to using them in a pinch and stuffing the toilet.) I told her to stay there for 5 minutes. Just 5 minutes. OK, she says. I am using up gloves and Depends faster than it takes the guys in a pit stop change a tire. I go for brief walks just to clear my head and my nostrils and my lungs.

This morning, I led two tours through the farmhouse in Virginville—second oldest working farm in the county. The last member of the family, a distant cousin, lived there until 2005. No plumbing, little heat. By the time he died, Jacob was quite disabled and unable to take care of himself. Evidence of his incontinence was everywhere. Vestiges of it still emerge pungently when you bring in buckets of hot water to clean the furniture. A sad ending to any life, indeed. In mother’s case, it is even more poignant, because cleanliness was important to her. That side of her character died an untimely death.

You might well ask about the role my organic specialties might have played in this purging. Pumpkin soup, however, should have had an ameliorative effect. It did not. This morning, I allowed only toast (flourless Ezekiel bread) and black tea. This afternoon, I gave mom organic macaroni and cheese (Amy’s brand), and then I made my own with roasted butternut squash. I thought the mac and cheese would help a bit. Thus far, it did not.

Yesterday morning, mom was speaking gibberish—clue #1 for dehydration. We gave her juice; mom will not drink water. Initially, I suspected the juice was part of the problem, but it should have worked its way out of her system by now. Sleuth work continues.

As mom makes her evening novena of trips to the bathroom, I am at the ready with gloves, wipes, and Depends, plus the shower, if the wipes are insufficient. Don’t complain, dear reader, that this is too graphic for you. Be assured, I have spared you the full picture of the cleanup detail.