a decent Wednesday

When I picked Mom and Dad up after Mom's blood work and doctor consultation, Dad said that the reports were good: Mom has gained another 6 pounds, her blood work is fine, and her vitals were fine. Dr. Meister apparently recommended that Mom should go to speech therapy to help her with talking, but when I asked Dad for specifics, he said that the doctor hadn't gone into any detail. How soon we should do this, and why the doc thinks speech therapy might help-- we don't have this information.

Instead of driving straight home, we took Mom for a walk at Fort Hunt Park, stopping along the way to buy ourselves some bottled drinks. Mom walked her 680 yards, but somewhat slowly. She also seemed even weaker than usual when it came to getting out of the car, or with standing up after being seated at a picnic bench for a few minutes. She showed similar difficulty when she got home, struggling to get onto her bar stool. Still, despite her weakness, Mom was determined to walk up to our back door via the deck steps and not the ramp. She managed the feat, but it took a lot of help, and several pauses.

Dad told me, later in the day, that the doc also had good things to say about the level of Mom's home care. It seems we're doing something right. I'm glad to hear this: striking a balance between providing too much or too little care isn't easy, and it's not always clear we're doing the right thing. Mom still retains enough pride to get antsy when we over-coddle her, but she also tends to remain silent when she's suffering, such as when she's too cold (we periodically check her extremities for just this reason; hand-holding sometimes has an ulterior motive). It's good to receive outside confirmation that we're not neglecting anything major.

Tomorrow, we head out to the same place for Mom's Avastin infusion. This will be the third session; the infusion will last only 30 minutes, and all subsequent infusions will also be 30 minutes long.


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