'It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year"

Things got a little rough this morning:  Mom had a very messy bowel movement, and the clean up got rather complicated.  Lots of wipes, body cleaner, paper towels, and I just gritted my teeth, figuring her cleanliness was far more important.  So,  the job was done, but I could tell how ashamed Mom was.  Nobody enjoys being cleaned up:  far better to do the job yourself.  I am still undwinding from the ordeal--shutting my eyes to the mess and the smell.

If only she'd start using the commode.  Much better for the both of us.  Mom could wipe her own bottom, which would probably give her a sense of empowerment.  She might even be nicer to me, since I should have less power over her.  Mom does have the physical ability to walk and cleanse herself, but choose both the wheelchair, and having her adult diaper changed by me.

Odd thing about it was that Grandma, who lived here for 5 years or so before her death, was far more independent.  Grandma's hip was worn down from osteoarthritis, and she was supposed to have hip replacement surgery, but the doctor discovered she needed a pacemaker, which put an end to the hip replacement.  Mom bought Grandma a wheelchair, but Grandma refused to use it, and shuffled around the house with her walker.  The family cat, Snoopy, used to like sitting in the wheelchair, and being taken for a ride, with her tail sticking out between the back and seat panel.  

Well, I wish Mom had more of Grandma's spunk.  I wish I had it, too.