Get Organized! Mom's Shelf - Bed pans, blankets, pills, oh my! (part 2)

　
Get Organized (part 2) Mom's Shelf

In "Get Organized (part 1)"  I shared with you the joy of creating a supply shelf that was not only functional but beautiful because, let's face it,  you'll spend a good part of your day getting the things you need to take care of your charge.  So if you haven't had time to read part 1, take a moment and go back to that entry.  Our goal is to create more time for ourselves, by not wasting time looking for 'stuff'.

Once I'd created Mom's Shelf I began to organize it even more.
　
I put labels on the lids or sides of each prescription bottle,  with the contents written in bold magic marker, to make finding, and then reading, much easier. Write down what the prescription is for: nausea, pain, blood pressure, etc. This cuts down on mistakes. Most prescription bottles look alike, and in the rush of bi-city travel, and morning brain fog, dispensing the wrong pill from a look alike bottle was a dangerous possibility.
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The goal is to create a space that's welcoming, and makes you smile, instead of a space that turns you off or stresses you out.  Really, how attractive is a bed pan and all that it invokes?

My tower bookcase was purchased from a catalogue (who had time to go shopping), and delivered to mom's front door. The shelf didn't look sterile. On the contrary, the cherry wood color matched my mother's bedroom furniture. It looked like it belonged there. I merchandised it, as if it were an upscale store window display.  I added a tiny bouquet of silk flowers to a corner space with a photo of the family, hanging from one of the shelves. I put the prescription bottles in open wicker baskets, the adult diapers in another, and the serious pain killers in a red box, to make them easier to find when the pain appeared, seemingly from nowhere. I created a space that was attractive, user friendly, and functional. 'Mom's Shelf' even made mom smile.

I taped snapshots of her nurses with their names and schedules, and later pictures of her daughters when she couldn't remember who we were. I turned her queen size bed into a hospital bed with soft, cushy wedge pillows for under her knees and another to elevate her head. I placed colorful African kunta cloths on top of the sterilized blankets, so that she was surrounded with the art and the colors she loved.

I purchased a sound machine with selections for ocean sounds, rainfall, birds, etc. She brought it to the hospital and later, the hospice. It relaxed her, the nurses, and me. The nurses always spent extra time in her room (isn't this what we want?). She never turned it off.

Guests actually wanted to take the entire bookcase, supplies and all, especially the ocean sound machine. The hospital supplies became a thing of beauty, instead of a reminder of dying.

Mom was my best friend. Only seventeen years older than I, and the same age as my husband. In the beginning of her pancreatic cancer we talked about everything, and later I talked, and she listened. I miss my mom. I talk to her still.