Lola and Her Chair

There's one chair in the living room that Mom has turned into her little nest. You can't get rid of any of the tables or trays with which she's surrounded the chair. She asks for them back. She stacks her photos on them, along with all sorts of stuff she's forgotten about and/or can't use anymore. She keeps a tray on her left side that is her table. She has a foot stool in front of it that seems to be more of a tripping hazard than a place she props her feet. She only does that if I get onto her because her ankles have become swollen.

She's become fairly bad at eating without making a mess. Cereal, which she loves, particularly gives her problems. She's gotten bad at getting things on her fork, and a lot winds up on the floor.

I've gotten a hand towel out for her to put on her lap because so much falls off the fork on the way to her mouth. Lately, though, she's taken to throwing the towel in the trash can on her right side. You never think that you have to begin going through the trash once your parents become feeble to make sure they don't throw away something needed or valuable.

Speaking of valuable, last week Max found one of Dad's good hearing aids, that I thought he must have thrown away, in the garage on the counter top in the midst of the junk. At least Daddy didn't throw it away. He just, for some unknown reason, took it out while in the garage and laid it down. In the middle of 500 hundred nails, bolts, screwdrivers, bird feeders, light bulbs and pounds of dust. Wonder where I'll eventually find the other one.

In the last week, Mom has begun to cough and get a little choked. One of the gals in the nursing home was talking about that being something that happens to the elderly. They begin to have trouble swallowing. Guess that's beginning to happen to Mom now. Otherwise, she's doing well. She got up on her own at 11:00 this morning.