Monday, January 1, 2007
We had a pleasant, if accidental, New Year celebration.
At 2355 we were both surprised to find that Mom was still up. That's when I realized what day is was and that we had a golden opportunity to "rabbit rabbit" in the new year.
We ended up not having a special dinner tonight. Well, I should say, Mom had a special dinner. I showed her the curious, chocolately/creamy mousse type dessert I picked up and she opted for that for dinner. Her BG looked fine so I could see no reason not to serve it up for her. Slicing into it, though, on her behalf, was too much for me. I offered her an eye-popping piece, ate some cheese and crackers and surreptitiously threw the rest of the dessert away. She'll never remember it, except that she thought it was "luscious" and "the perfect dinner". She's easy when it comes to sweets, though.
She kind of sort of collapsed this afternoon in her bedroom after her nap. Since I didn't hear a thump, when I saw her on the floor, from the way she was sitting I got the impression she sort of faded to the floor. She was alert, not hurt. I brought in a chair for her to use to steady herself as we brought her up, after a short, oxygen infused rest. Actually, she insisted on doing the entire upsy-daisy thing herself. It was slow, but not painful to watch. I offered support here and there but she did it. I was surprised. The Old Gray Mare Is Better Than I Thought She Was is the name of that song, I guess.
Anyway, this evening she got involved in musicals on one of the cable channels, the recent ones about Bobby Darin and Cole Porter, the second one, especially, excellent, both of which are in our collection and we watch fairly often. Anyway, her eyes started to droop during the Cole Porter one, so I reminded her that we own it and promised to cue it up for her "soon".
On that note, she headed for bed.
I'm not really worried about the collapse in her bedroom. I realize it is a signal that I need to be ever more watchful, but, at least, she relaxes when she falls. That's to her and my credit. She might be a little sore tomorrow, but wasn't at all tonight.
So, anyway, we're doing another year, which we've informally decided to call Mom's Ninetieth Year, since she is living out her Ninetieth as I type. Tonight we agreed that, somehow, Ninety sounds younger than Eighty-nine.
Hmmm. Well. I'm tired. It's a good tired.
Later.
We ended up not having a special dinner tonight. Well, I should say, Mom had a special dinner. I showed her the curious, chocolately/creamy mousse type dessert I picked up and she opted for that for dinner. Her BG looked fine so I could see no reason not to serve it up for her. Slicing into it, though, on her behalf, was too much for me. I offered her an eye-popping piece, ate some cheese and crackers and surreptitiously threw the rest of the dessert away. She'll never remember it, except that she thought it was "luscious" and "the perfect dinner". She's easy when it comes to sweets, though.
She kind of sort of collapsed this afternoon in her bedroom after her nap. Since I didn't hear a thump, when I saw her on the floor, from the way she was sitting I got the impression she sort of faded to the floor. She was alert, not hurt. I brought in a chair for her to use to steady herself as we brought her up, after a short, oxygen infused rest. Actually, she insisted on doing the entire upsy-daisy thing herself. It was slow, but not painful to watch. I offered support here and there but she did it. I was surprised. The Old Gray Mare Is Better Than I Thought She Was is the name of that song, I guess.
Anyway, this evening she got involved in musicals on one of the cable channels, the recent ones about Bobby Darin and Cole Porter, the second one, especially, excellent, both of which are in our collection and we watch fairly often. Anyway, her eyes started to droop during the Cole Porter one, so I reminded her that we own it and promised to cue it up for her "soon".
On that note, she headed for bed.
I'm not really worried about the collapse in her bedroom. I realize it is a signal that I need to be ever more watchful, but, at least, she relaxes when she falls. That's to her and my credit. She might be a little sore tomorrow, but wasn't at all tonight.
So, anyway, we're doing another year, which we've informally decided to call Mom's Ninetieth Year, since she is living out her Ninetieth as I type. Tonight we agreed that, somehow, Ninety sounds younger than Eighty-nine.
Hmmm. Well. I'm tired. It's a good tired.
Later.
