Caught in the Middle!

My mother has bed sores!

For the past four months, a painful knee has limited her mobility. Impatient that medication isn't eliminating the pain, she has been spending much of her day lying on her bed applying an ice pack.

To help her deal with her problem, doctors have referred her to a Geriatric Day Hospital, to monitor her medication and increase her mobility through physiotherapy.

She visits the hospital twice a week.














After her second visit, the nurse phoned me: Your mother has bed sores - two, very close together - just below her tailbone. They have to be carefully monitored. I bandaged them, but the nursing staff in her retirement residence will have to change the dressings as needed. And she will need help bathing, to make sure the bandage doesn't come off and the area is kept clean and dry... Talk to them and get back to me...

My mother has apparently been spending too much time lying down.

I call the nursing staff at the residence where she lives and ask them to monitor the bandages and help her with her bathing...

We will send someone to help her every morning, they assure me.

I call my mother: Mom, you have bedsores. This is a serious problem. That's why the nurses in your residence will check the bandages and someone will come and help you bathe. And you can't spend your day lying on your bed with an ice pack.

What do you mean? I take a shower at 5 every morning and I don't need help.

But you can't see back there, so they have to check you. Everything needs to be clean and dry.

I don't need help.

Well, I'm only doing what the nurse at the Day Hospital told me to do.

The next morning I call my mother to see how it went...

I was already finished and dressed when the nurse got here, she tells me. I shower at 5. She didn't get here till 6. I told her I was done, so she left.

Mom, you have to let the nurse help you, I tell her. They need to check you.

I can do it by myself, she insists.

Later I speak to her again. Mom, you have to wait till the nurse arrives. Don't shower until she comes.

Reluctantly she agrees.

The next morning I call again. So how did it go today? I ask.

The nurse didn't do anything. I closed the shower curtain and showered while she waited for me.

Did she dry you off and check you? She is supposed to wash you near the bed sores... places where you can't see, I say, in exasperation. Bed sores are very serious.

Well, I don't need her. How much we paying her to come...? She didn't help me at all. She didn't do anything.

Did you let her help you...?

When I get off the phone, fuming, my husband looks at me and says: You know, it's hard to be told you can't look after yourself. The body is the last frontier. She is resisting. Nobody wants to be touched against their wishes. Getting angry at her won't help. Be compassionate. Say: "I know it must be hard to have someone clean you..." Listen to her complaints. Don't argue with her...

I glare at him. He may be right - I should try to be more understanding - more empathetic... But all I feel is pressure - pressure from the nursing staff to get my mother to comply! Pressure from my mother to leave her alone! And now pressure to be more empathetic...!

(It's not easy to be caught in the middle!)