A turning point

I got a call this morning from a nurse. She said Mom had fallen trying to get out of bed. Banged her knee up, but was otherwise OK.

So I went after lunch. They were all still sitting at the dining table, so I sat for minute and then I took  back to her room and got her walker, and we went in search of the physical therapist, who the nurse had told us to look up. We never found her, just a ditzy woman who was the "occupational therapist," who seemed to be doing nothing.

I have to go more often on weekdays, during working hours, to see the right people.

Anyway, this is a turning point. Her walking is so unsteady it's a wonder she hasn't fallen more often and more seriously. She can't move any way but straight ahead, and from a sitting position, she has trouble standing, and a lot of trouble balancing. I told her she has to use her walker all the time, and she said she knew that, and would do it. We will see.

I have to give Mom credit for knowing what she needs when she needs it. Unlike, say, Julie's mom, who refuses to change, and insists she needs no help out of a puffed-up sense of pride. So many old people are like that.

So, it's another step, another stage. So much has changed in a year and a half.