Ruby – My Mom
Bedsores, also known as pressure ulcers, are injuries to skin and tissue resulting from prolonged pressure on the skin. They commonly develop on skin covering bony areas like heels, ankles, and hips. Those at greatest risk include individuals with conditions that limit their mobility, making it difficult to change positions. Bedsores can develop quickly, within hours or days. While many heal with treatment, some may never fully recover.
Mom’s hospice team had warned us about how painful bedsores (a.k.a. pressure ulcers) can be, and how slow they are to heal. The best thing to prevent them was not letting mom be in one position for extended periods of time and to keep her dry.
“Mom, I’m here,” I whisper each morning, even though I know there won’t be a response.
The hospice team had been clear about the risk of bedsores, those dreaded pressure ulcers that could cause unimaginable pain and are notoriously difficult to heal.
The challenge in preventing them escalated when my mother’s sleeping episodes extended into days, her consciousness a fleeting visitor in her own body. With the help of the caregivers, I became adept at repositioning my mother, ensuring she doesn’t remain in one spot for too long.
Yet, despite our vigilance, a bedsore formed on my mother’s heel during one of her prolonged sleeps, a place we overlooked investigating, a sight that left me feeling defeated.
“I don’t understand, we were so careful,” I lamented to the paid caregivers.
The hospice nurse suggested a cushioned bootie to alleviate the pressure on my mother’s heel, but my mother, even in her diminished state, detested it. “She always hated feeling confined,” I mused, adjusting the pillows under my mother’s feet to keep them elevated, a compromise that seemed to bring her some comfort.
The routine of turning my mother from side to side has become second nature, a task shared among the caregivers. But when my mother slipped into a coma, the task became even more crucial “Every hour, we need to turn her,” I instructed the team, my voice steady despite the turmoil within.
I took my place in the rotation, the physical strain of the task paling in comparison to the emotional toll it took on me. Seeing my mother so vulnerable, so dependent, was a heartache that words could hardly describe.
In the end, it wasn’t just about preventing bedsores or managing physical symptoms. It was about providing a presence, a familiar touch, and a sense of peace to my loved one on her final journey.
Lily, Douglas, and Noelle’s Story
Lily was inspired by her mother’s resilience. After an experimental surgery, her mother now faced a six-month recovery period confined to a hospital bed. Determined to ensure her mother’s comfort and health, Lily and her siblings moved back home and rearranged their lives to take care of her.
One morning, Lily sat by her mother’s bedside. “Mom, how are you feeling today?” she asked softly.
Her mother smiled weakly. “I’m okay, Lily. Just tired.”
Lily glanced at her brother, Douglas, who was adjusting the pillows. “We need to make sure she’s comfortable and moved regularly,” Lily said.
Douglas nodded. “I’ll call the hospital’s care team and ask about their protocol for preventing bedsores.”
Later, as the siblings gathered in the living room, Douglas shared the update. “They said we need to move her every two hours. They’ll send someone to help us learn the proper techniques.”
Their younger sister, Noelle, looked worried. “What if we miss a turn? What if she still gets a bedsore?”
Lily put a reassuring hand on Noelle’s shoulder. “We’ll do our best, Em. We’re all in this together.”
The next day, a nurse from the hospital arrived to show them how to reposition their mother safely. “You want to make sure she’s on her side, then her back, then her other side,” the nurse explained, demonstrating the movements. “And always keep her skin dry.”
Lily practiced the moves, feeling a mix of determination and anxiety. “We can do this,” she told herself.
One evening, as Lily was turning her mother, she noticed a red spot on her heel. “Mom, does this hurt?” she asked gently.
Her mother winced. “A little.”
Lily’s heart sank. “We’ve been so diligent,” she said to Douglas later. “How did this happen?”
Douglas sighed. “Maybe we missed a turn. Let’s get her some cushioned booties to relieve the pressure.”
Their mother resisted the booties at first. “I hate feeling trapped,” she grumbled.
Lily adjusted the pillows under her mother’s feet. “We’ll try this instead, Mom. Just let us know if it gets uncomfortable.”
The siblings continued their vigilant care, sharing shifts and supporting each other through the emotional strain. “Every hour, we need to turn her,” Lily reminded them, her voice steady despite her inner turmoil.
Pauline and Ben’s Story
Ben’s father, a retired veteran, had been confined to a wheelchair for years due to complications from an old injury. The pressure on his back was a constant concern for his wife, Pauline.
One afternoon, Pauline called Ben. “Ben, I’m worried about your dad. He’s been sitting in his wheelchair for too long, and I’m afraid he might develop bedsores.”
Ben frowned. “I’ll come over and see what we can do, Mom.”
When Ben arrived, he found his dad in his usual spot by the window. “Hey, Dad. How are you feeling?”
His dad smiled. “Same as always, son.”
Pauline looked anxious. “We need to make sure he’s moved from his chair periodically. Can you help me with that?”
“Of course,” Ben said. “Let’s figure out a schedule.”
They contacted a physical therapist who specialized in wheelchair-bound patients. The therapist explained the importance of shifting positions regularly. “You need to tilt the chair back, then forward, and help him stand for a bit if possible.”
Ben practiced the techniques with his mom. “We’ll make sure you’re comfortable, Dad,” he said.
Despite their efforts, a bedsore eventually formed on his dad’s lower back. Ben noticed it one day while helping his dad change shirts. “Dad, does this hurt?” he asked, pointing to the sore.
His dad winced. “It’s pretty painful.”
Pauline looked devastated. “I thought we were doing everything right.”
Ben hugged her. “We were, Mom. Sometimes these things happen despite our best efforts.”
They called the doctor, who prescribed a special cream and recommended keeping the area clean and dry. “It should heal with time,” the doctor reassured them.
Ben and Pauline were extra vigilant. They adjusted his dad’s position more frequently and made sure he spent time lying down to relieve the pressure. “How’s the pain, Dad?” Ben asked one evening.
“Better,” his dad said. “It’s still there, but not as bad.”
Pauline sighed with relief. “I’m so glad.”
Ben nodded. “We just have to keep being careful.”