5 December 2024
The minute I got there today, Joyce insisted she wasn't going to get out of bed. We fought. I put her shoes on. She got out of bed. And into the wheelchair.
Kevin caught up to us as we wheeled down the hallways, Joyce insisting she wasn't going to walk today. He said he had a couple of other patients ahead of us. But he'd be back.
So we went to the gym where Joyce refused to do the Spirit Cycle. I rolled her up to it anyway, told her to lock the chair, which she did, and then she grabbed the handles and put in a good session.
When she tired, we went back to the hallways. Kevin soon found us and again she started screaming she wouldn't do it, she was afraid. She was adamant.
He talked to her calmly and she relented in frustration. "What do you want me to do?"
She easily got up on the walker the second time, after falling back the first, and walked to the spot on the floor he had suggested. Then, on her own, she turned around, muttering, and walked back past her starting point.
So it was a little longer walk than yesterday.
Kevin congratulated her not just on how far she walked but on turning around too.
And then Cassie came around the corner.
"You missed it," we told her. And Kevin filled her in. She was delighted.
She hadn't been assigned to Joyce today. Someone named Rachel was instead. Joyce said Rachel had come and they had gotten up from the bed (but later she told me Rachel had only asked her some questions).
You could, like the therapists, read this as progress. Or you could, like me, be alarmed at the screaming resistance, neither of which is like her. And that, even with some success and no falls, the fear is not going away.
She is physically strong enough to do things like climb stairs or walk to the bathroom, even though she hasn't done them in weeks. But her confidence in being able to do them has vanished. The therapists believe it's only a matter of time.
But they haven't seen her continue to refuse to eat.
Today, we learned from the posted menu, lumch was meat ravioli, which she likes. Two bites and she was done with it. One spoonful of lemon pudding. It all makes her gag, she says.
Something more troublesome is going on with her. And it isn't being addressed. And I'm worried about it.