For those who know me well, you know my mother has been under hospice care since March 1 of this year. When she came home, she was placed in a hospital bed in her dining room. She was hooked to oxygen, and her fingernails were purple. Fast forward to last week. She is now out of hospice care and under care of a small lowcountry home health care company.
Back in September my dad hired a part-time sitter to help Mother get up with the walker and to help him out some to allow him to come and go and to do light housekeeping. She strengthened Mother's legs enough that she has been sitting up for hours each day for over a month. Hospice released her last week.
Now, a physical therapist will come a few days a week to strengthen her legs to hopefully have her more mobile. She is a worrier by nature and is worried her long-term health insurance will stop paying for the part-time sitter. Of course, if she gets mobile enough, they won't need the sitter any more.
When she went to see her family doctor last week to get his ok for this new company to take over, he did not recognize her; he recognized my dad. She has lost so much weight. Once he remembered her, he told her she was lucky to be alive; that's how sick she was.
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