My Mother's Hospitalization (8): Paper Cups and Medication Arrays
My elderly mother has been discharged from the hospital. She was given a 30-day supply of medication, all pre-packaged in individual pouches. The date and timing for each dose are printed on them. While it looks orderly, the sheer volume is daunting when you actually hold it in your hands. Pain medication, drugs to suppress side effects, blood pressure medication, cholesterol medication, and blood thinners. She has to take nearly 10 different types of medication per day, divided between before and after meals.
The structure was enough to confuse even someone with sharp cognitive abilities. Furthermore, the dementia medication, which was the one thing I most wanted her not to forget, remained in her possession. She laughed, saying, 'It's better to forget about medicine.' Certainly, if she were healthy and the symptoms had disappeared, that might be one way of looking at it. However, for someone with chronic illnesses and declining cognitive function, that is not the case.
Some medications can cause symptoms to worsen if stopped abruptly. They should be reduced little by little while consulting with a doctor. Stopping them on one's own is dangerous.
I considered using commercially available pill cases and pill pockets. However, with nearly 10 types of tablets, capsules, and powders, they didn't have enough capacity. Because she visits multiple hospitals, the prescription timing also varies. Even the pre-packaged pouches cannot be fully consolidated.
So, I decided to try using paper cups. This was more for my own verification than for my mother. I prepared seven days' worth by placing paper slips labeled 'Before Breakfast,' 'After Dinner,' 'Before Bed,' etc., into the cups like signboards. Then, I hand them to my mother one day at a time.
At first, it went well. But as the table became cluttered, my mother would stack empty paper cups on top of the cups containing unconsumed medication to create more space. As a result, she would forget to take her medicine. Furthermore, she had a habit of putting the empty medication packaging back into the paper cups, making it impossible to tell whether she had taken them or not.
So, I tried experimenting with the arrangement. I connected six empty paper cups with masking tape. This was to accommodate the six categories, such as before and after breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I then stacked the paper cups containing the medication into those empty cups. She takes the top paper cup to drink the medicine, and once finished, she discards the empty packaging and puts the cup back. This way, the arrangement doesn't fall apart, and I can tell at a glance whether the medication has been taken based on the presence or absence of the cups.
For now, this method is working well. The lightness and flexibility of the paper cups were unexpectedly suited for this purpose. A small experiment in daily life has brought a sense of stability.