A Question of Timing

The nice young woman from Home Health Services came by Thursday. Mom was very nervous about her visit.

The nurse was scheduled to come by at noon. The night before, Mom told me she didn't think the nurse would show up because she'd told Mom on the phone that she'd be here "at 12," and then changed the time and told her "noon," and then changed the time again and told her "about 12" so Mom had no idea when she might show up. I tried, but there was no way I could make Mom understand.

Mom went to bed a little early Wednesday night. An hour and a half later she was up and dressed and coming down the hallway asking, "Didn't that girl come by?" I said, "It's not noon. It's 12 midnight. She won't be here for another twelve hours yet." Mom looked out the window but still didn't believe me. I'm afraid I took advantage of her recent, more compliant personality and just said, "You need to turn around, get undressed and go back to bed." She did.

The visit went off fine. The nurse showed up fifteen minutes early and took Mom's history and vitals (Mom couldn't answer what year or season it is although she did get the day and date right and knew Obama is president) and timed her as she got up and walked across the living room and back to the couch. She'll be back Monday and will set up a schedule for the physical therapist.

The CAT scan is scheduled for Tuesday.