My Granddaddy is out of his head--big time--and has been so for about four days now. At first we thought it was just because he had started chewing his metoprolol again (it's a medication meant to regulate the heart; I don't quite understand why he's on it since he has a pacemaker, but anyway). The metoprolol is a time-release pill, so when he chews it, he gets the whole dose right at the same time.
Anyway, it's been one of my jobs over the past couple of days to kind of keep on top of him--making sure he doesn't try to get up (and therefore fall down), or fall out of the chair, and things like that. In fact, I'm sitting here right now with the baby moniter next to me so if there is any unusual noise I can catch it--like right now!
Right, so I'm back...he looked like he was fixing to fall out of the chair (he's currently seated in the yellow chair, not the wheelchair).
In some ways, Granddaddy is easier to deal with like this--out of his head. He doesn't go back and forth, back and forth all the time--which drives me nuts. He's not as demanding and is more patient (because he's practically asleep, I guess). On the other hand, it's hard because he is so out of it. There is something painful about watching any elderly person be as helpless as he is in this condition.
However, I was going to tell a few stories from this morning.
Mama and Daddy went to town, leaving little ol' me as the commander of the downstairs department...
(Laundry break)
As I was saying, I was in charge of downstairs as everyone else was occupied upstairs. I spent the morning keeping an eye on Granddaddy (and admittedly, the TV...I do so enjoy Ironside) and making lunch. (And you probably can't tell, but I had yet another break there in that last sentence. ;P)
Because Granddaddy is for the most part more asleep than he is awake in the state he is in, I find the best way to talk to him is to sit on the foot-stool down at his feet and tell him, "Open your eyes!" Then, he can see me even with his eyes only slit open...
I had to do this a couple of time about the safety belt on the wheelchair. Because he tips forward so dangerously when he goes to sleep, I feel it necessary to belt him in. It also slows him down if he thinks he wants to get up and go into the bathroom. I try to talk reason to him and he actually seemed to listen to me this morning, agreeing with me that he didn't want to fall out of the chair and hit his head--after that, he pretty much left the belt alone--except that is, when he needed to go to the bathroom. :)
He got pretty frustrated about the arm of the wheelchair at one point (he was swearing at that arm yesterday) and kept talking about it being "stuck"--all while he was sitting there with his eyes shut.
He also asked me if Daddy was going to be home tomorrow. I guess he must have realized vaguely that Daddy wasn't in the house.
He laughed about something at one point--what I'll never know, because he was asleep. It made me grin because he isn't necessarily the most laughing man you'll ever meet. At least he wasn't having bad-dreams like yesterday.
[Newsflash! "Come fix my feet..." "Yes-sir!" *grin* They were sliding off the footstool.]
I responded to "Son, come here" once, but for the most of the part it was "Honey" or "Darlin'" if he was actually addressing me at all. He muttered and mumbled all morning. If I suspected he was actually talking to me, I'd sneak over and lean over and look into his face. If his eyes were even slightly open, I'd answer, but if not, I wouldn't.
I spent some time this morning, in between this, that, and the other, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him back in the chair. He's been leaned over to the right ever since he hit the wall of stupor he is in and he must have a terrible cramp in his back. Right now he is actually sitting up pretty straight in the chair out there with the blanket pulled up under his chin. That's a good thing.
After lunch, I worked on getting his left leg straightened out some. He didn't like it much and I know it hurts something awful to have a big girl pushing down against a siezed up tendon, but it must be done in order to straighten his legs out. That leg in particular has a rock for a muscle up the back of it. (I've done the same things with my Grandpa and his legs--so I know exactly what I'm doing here.)
There was another story I wanted to tell...but it has by this point slipped my mind, so you'll just have to miss that one. Sorry. :) It probably wasn't all the exciting anyway.
I better go transfer the cloth chucks from the washer to the dryer now...and then I think I'll take my books into the other room so I can see him...I'm still on watch-dog duty.
See ya later!
Anyway, it's been one of my jobs over the past couple of days to kind of keep on top of him--making sure he doesn't try to get up (and therefore fall down), or fall out of the chair, and things like that. In fact, I'm sitting here right now with the baby moniter next to me so if there is any unusual noise I can catch it--like right now!
Right, so I'm back...he looked like he was fixing to fall out of the chair (he's currently seated in the yellow chair, not the wheelchair).
In some ways, Granddaddy is easier to deal with like this--out of his head. He doesn't go back and forth, back and forth all the time--which drives me nuts. He's not as demanding and is more patient (because he's practically asleep, I guess). On the other hand, it's hard because he is so out of it. There is something painful about watching any elderly person be as helpless as he is in this condition.
However, I was going to tell a few stories from this morning.
Mama and Daddy went to town, leaving little ol' me as the commander of the downstairs department...
(Laundry break)
As I was saying, I was in charge of downstairs as everyone else was occupied upstairs. I spent the morning keeping an eye on Granddaddy (and admittedly, the TV...I do so enjoy Ironside) and making lunch. (And you probably can't tell, but I had yet another break there in that last sentence. ;P)
Because Granddaddy is for the most part more asleep than he is awake in the state he is in, I find the best way to talk to him is to sit on the foot-stool down at his feet and tell him, "Open your eyes!" Then, he can see me even with his eyes only slit open...
I had to do this a couple of time about the safety belt on the wheelchair. Because he tips forward so dangerously when he goes to sleep, I feel it necessary to belt him in. It also slows him down if he thinks he wants to get up and go into the bathroom. I try to talk reason to him and he actually seemed to listen to me this morning, agreeing with me that he didn't want to fall out of the chair and hit his head--after that, he pretty much left the belt alone--except that is, when he needed to go to the bathroom. :)
He got pretty frustrated about the arm of the wheelchair at one point (he was swearing at that arm yesterday) and kept talking about it being "stuck"--all while he was sitting there with his eyes shut.
He also asked me if Daddy was going to be home tomorrow. I guess he must have realized vaguely that Daddy wasn't in the house.
He laughed about something at one point--what I'll never know, because he was asleep. It made me grin because he isn't necessarily the most laughing man you'll ever meet. At least he wasn't having bad-dreams like yesterday.
[Newsflash! "Come fix my feet..." "Yes-sir!" *grin* They were sliding off the footstool.]
I responded to "Son, come here" once, but for the most of the part it was "Honey" or "Darlin'" if he was actually addressing me at all. He muttered and mumbled all morning. If I suspected he was actually talking to me, I'd sneak over and lean over and look into his face. If his eyes were even slightly open, I'd answer, but if not, I wouldn't.
I spent some time this morning, in between this, that, and the other, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him back in the chair. He's been leaned over to the right ever since he hit the wall of stupor he is in and he must have a terrible cramp in his back. Right now he is actually sitting up pretty straight in the chair out there with the blanket pulled up under his chin. That's a good thing.
After lunch, I worked on getting his left leg straightened out some. He didn't like it much and I know it hurts something awful to have a big girl pushing down against a siezed up tendon, but it must be done in order to straighten his legs out. That leg in particular has a rock for a muscle up the back of it. (I've done the same things with my Grandpa and his legs--so I know exactly what I'm doing here.)
There was another story I wanted to tell...but it has by this point slipped my mind, so you'll just have to miss that one. Sorry. :) It probably wasn't all the exciting anyway.
I better go transfer the cloth chucks from the washer to the dryer now...and then I think I'll take my books into the other room so I can see him...I'm still on watch-dog duty.
See ya later!
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