A week ago she was 130, and 126 a week before that.
"As long as it’s in the triple digits, we don’t worry too much," the daytime aide joked while telling me the number.
"I did notice yesterday that I can see all the bones in my arm," she mused, seemingly unfazed by the number.
"She normally weighs 140-150," I told her, "112 is something to worry about."
The nurse agreed, and we suspect that something went hinky with the measurement either last week or today. Losing 18 pounds in a week is a little extreme, even for her ... especially when she’s been "doing so much better about eating," as she self-reports. Here’s what was left when she was done with lunch today, and it is indeed "better" than I’ve seen in the past.
(Her idea of a full lunch was 1/3 of a cheeseburger, three bites of yogurt, four bites of sherbet, 1/2 cup of mandarin oranges, and a cup of milk)
The much-more-conscientious
night aide is going to re-weigh her tonight to see if the 112 was accurate. And if it was? Her care team and I are going to have to have an intervention AGAIN to explain why she needs calories to fight her infection and protein to heal her wound. In the meantime, at least she’s lighter for the aides to haul out of bed in the mornings...
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