My brother, Bob, and I spent much of yesterday installing some safety hand-holds at various spots in the house. Neither Mom nor Dad can get around very well any longer and they're constantly looking for some support. We thought now was the time.
We installed the bars in three places: beside the toilet, along the bathtub and at the back door (the door we use most often). Here's Bob mounting a bronze hand-hold beside the toilet.
These things are supposed to hold upwards of 300 pounds. The heaviest of us is only about half of that. I figure the time wasn't wasted: I will need them myself someday.
Last Friday (04/01) was another terrible day. I took Mom to her family doctor to check out the continued pain in her hip. The hernia operation of 03/23 did nothing to alleviate the pain so we knew further exploration was needed. With swollen legs and feet, that doctor sent Mom to the hospital for a CT scan.
When the CT scan showed a "fractured pelvis" and some "fluid-filled object the size of a lemon", she was sent to the ER. That doctor was less concerned. "She's had this for nearly three months," he said. "It's not life-threatening but it does need further study."
So tomorrow we'll call an orthopedic surgeon and see where the trail leads.
Last night, at least, I was able to go to my own bed, the first time in ten days. Bob and I set up another twin bed, this time in the dining room (we now have Dad in the living room, Mom in the dining room). The house is no longer decorated as we would like. Visitors would be appalled ... and so we have had none.
Pinehaven has become by necessity a sort of nursing home. How constant is the place though the poor inhabitants are declining. We are surely outlived by our things.