Following that night I spent with Dad after my first unsuccessful shower weekend another week went by. That Friday I came to dad's house and he, again, was very weak...too weak to shower. Again, I spent the night. Mike stayed with me. Early that morning Mike went home to feed our dogs. I stayed and made breakfast for myself, Allison and Dad. I made eggs, cinnamon toast and sliced strawberries. Dad enjoyed the homemade breakfast while I observed. He was having trouble locating his mouth with his fork. It crossed my mind that he was still just tired but I messaged Paula letting her know what I was seeing. We agreed to keep a close eye on him for the next couple days. After breakfast, Allison and I hugged Dad and promised to come back that night.
We returned, as usual, at six o'clock, Saturday. Dad was standing when Mike and I entered and it was apparent that he had lost control of his bladder. We would have to insist on a shower no matter how difficult it would be. Dad fought us as best he could, arguing, promising to shower later, getting angry and demanding that we leave. We finally caught him off guard and got him to sit down in the rolling walker. Tipping it backward we rolled him into the bedroom. He continued to protest, even going so far as grabbing the door frame. It was at that point I decided, "This is getting unsafe. After tonight I will need to say something to Paula. We have to get help with hygiene." Dad finally gave in and showered. It took a while but he definitely felt better when he was clean. We followed up with dinner and a movie as usual. It would be the last "normal" evening for a while...possibly ever. I had a gut feeling that we were about to be hit with another big wave of change. The next day would prove me right.
Our family always celebrates birthdays on Sunday. Since my niece, Tom's daughter, turned sixteen in October, it was time for a party. Text messages flew back and forth through out the day. "What does Casey need/want?" "Is Ann making the cake?" "I can't make it to the store, can you pick up _____?"
I had made it home at three o'clock after choosing gifts to bring and getting fruit to make a fruit salad. We began putting together our packages when I noticed I had missed a series of texts from Paula and responses from Bradley.
Paula: Dad fell in the bathroom. I have been trying to help him and am drenched with sweat. Need help.
Bradley: I am an hour away. I'm sorry. Wish I could help. Call Dad?
Paula: He's at work. I guess I will call 911.
Bradley: On my way back. Did you call?
Paula: Called. On way to emergency room.
We knew which hospital so I responded: Just saw this. Meet you there.
I quickly told Mike what was happening and we jumped in my car and raced to the ER.
As we walked through the sliding doors, Paula exited the automatic doors of the patient rooms. She walked straight to us.
"Dad isn't able to talk other then the occasional whisper and he isn't making much sense. I haven't been able to reach Hillary yet", she informed us.
"Okay, should I come back with you?" I asked. Bradley entered the ER just as I said this.
"You can. They will only let two of us in at a time."
I gave Mike a quick hug and kiss and followed Paula, glad that Mike had Bradley to wait with him.
Dad was in the room immediately after the automatic doors. They had really just arrived. We helped keep him calm as his IV was administered. He was also given an automatic blood pressure cuff. During that first hour he said a total of three words. When Dad's blood pressure cuff squeezed his arm uncomfortably he belted out a breathy "JESUS CHRIST!" A little while later when a tech came to take him for a CT scan I told him I would go with him and he managed an "Okay". That was pretty much all I heard from him that first night.
I stood in the doorway as he was positioned for his CT scan by two talkative techs. He was very agitated and kept moving and making noises trying to voice his confusion. I continuously called out, "It's okay, Dad. Stay still. They aren't going to hurt you." Then they closed the doors and I listened. I could hear the techs chatting and laughing as they did their job. Could they not see how confused and frightened Dad must be? I sat in the hallway, helpless as I waited for them to finish their scan. A woman in a wheelchair was in the hall with me. She was next for a scan. The waiting was awkward. Should I talk to her? Ask her how she was? Mind my own damn business? She broke the silence.
"Your Dad doesn't like hospitals much, does he?" she asked with a knowing smile.
"No, ma'am...no he doesn't. Ironically, he's a doctor", I replied.
"They're the worse patients", she smiled.
"They certainly are", I nodded, smiling back.
The doors opened and the techs wheeled Dad out and back to his room. He held my hand tightly as we made our way back. He was frightened and disoriented.That first night was a series of tests, scans, blood draws, poking, prodding and, above all, no clear answers.
Over the next several days it appeared Dad had a break with reality. The few intelligible words that he spoke indicated that he thought he lived with his parents in Ohio. Other interesting things he said were that he had three sons, five daughters, five cats and five dogs. Dad usually knew Paula and Hillary and for some reason also knew Mike by name. He was still comfortable with me but not sure who I was. After an ultrasound it was determined that he had had a TIA (Transient Ischemic Attack) or mini-stroke. Whatever had brought it on, it appeared to have accelerated his dementia. The second night he was there he ripped out his IV three times and continuously pulled off his leads. Because of the swelling in his legs, relocating the IV to a nonstandard entry was not an option. Hillary texted me and Paula, so frustrated and out of ideas to control him. We had no helpful suggestions.
From time to time Dad would become aggressive with the staff, demanding to leave, lashing out verbally and physically at the nurses trying to help him with toileting, changing, sitting or standing. We did our best to calm him but even we, his family, were not entirely safe. Each of us had to deal with his combative temperament. Once he managed to hit Paula in the face. He wrestled with me and Hillary. I remember after three days marveling as two tiny nurses came in to help with toileting and thinking, "Really? You couldn't find ANYONE bigger than me?" (Recall, I'm 4'11". Yes, they were that small!) The few times that he would remain calm we would try to explain to him that he had had a stroke. This explanation never stuck for more than a few minutes and eventually he would demand to know what was going on and try to get up to leave. Ultimately, we had no choice but to allow the nurses to sedate him for the safety of everyone including Dad.
Hillary covered many of the day shifts while Paula and I covered afternoons and evenings. The stroke ward was understaffed and it was important that we tag team it until either Dad remained cooperative or the staff was able to cope with his bouts of frustration. Doctors took me and my sisters aside individually and counseled each of us that it was no longer safe for Dad to live alone. Clearly arrangements would have to be made. By day five, the neurologist decided Dad should be released to a rehab facility for seven to ten days. I took the afternoon off to relieve Hillary and she went home, half delirious with exhaustion, to sleep it off. I stayed and awaited transfer orders. Around three o'clock we were told a transport to the rehab facility had been arranged and Dad could get dressed. Bradley stopped by with shoes for Dad and helped me dress him for transport. Still unable to stand for more than a few seconds Dad wanted to leave immediately once he was dressed. Bradley and I helped him to sit in a recliner in his room for the remainder of the time as we awaited his ride. It was clear he still was not in reality. He was sure that on the other side of the bathroom was a living room and wanted to go lay down on the couch. Dad also was convinced his house was only two blocks away rather than across town, and that he could easily walk there on his own.
Finally the nurse came in to tell us the transport was there and asked if he was ready. We would have preferred she had worded that differently. Of course he was ready.
"Okay, let's go!" Dad said, trying to stand.
"No, Dad, they're going to come up and get you", I said trying to keep him in his chair.
"Why? I'm just going home", he said.
"No, Grampa", Bradley explained, "They are taking you to get physical therapy."
"But I can walk just fine", Dad insisted angrily.
"Dad, you can barely stand", I said firmly, still trying to restrain him as he attempted to push us out of the way.
"Grampa, everyone leaves on wheels", Bradley said, "Even you."
Dad calmed down.
I knew the transport people were a few minutes late so I went out into the hall to see if they were on their way, There they were. Instead of a couple orderlies with a wheel chair, two huge guys were rolling an ambulance gurney down the hall. I went back into the room and quickly whispered to Bradley what was coming.
"This is going to be bad", he said with a look of fear.
"I think we should get out in the hall and let the transport team do their job", I suggested. Bradley agreed and we cleared out, waited and listened.
From inside the room we heard a few profanities from Dad followed by a loud, "Why do I have to go on there?"
"Sorry, sir. That's just what the orders say", one of the orderlies replied. A few seconds later they wheeled him out. Dad didn't see us in the hall. I grabbed his things and Bradley helped me to my car.
"Wow", he said in the elevator, "I'm surprised that went so calmly and quickly!"
"Really?" I smiled, "I'm more surprised the nurses weren't cheering and calling out 'Bon Voyage'!"
We both giggled. A rare moment of humor before the next storm.
To be continued....
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Monday, September 8, 2014
Half...(part two)
Q: How do you tell an Alzheimer's patient his only son has died?
A: Again...and again...and again...and again...until after the funeral. After that you never mention it again ever, ever, ever.
The morning after the crash I was up early. I had not quite wrapped my mind around what had happened. Tom was gone...I hadn't dreamed it. I sent a text to Paula asking what time she was going to Dad's so we could be together to tell him. She had spent most of the evening before with Ann and Casey. Given Ann's illness it would be best not to leave her alone for very long. She would need a lot of support to get through this terrible turn of events. Fortunately her brothers had arrived to relieve Paula and spend the night with her. Tom's life and exuberance had given life to that house. It must feel so empty without him. Paula said if we didn't hear from Hillary by 9:00 AM we should probably head over to Dad's. I agreed.
I dressed as if it were any other Sunday visit, Jeans and a t-shirt. I wondered how Dad would handle the news. Dad has always been so stoic. I had never actually seen him cry...not when Mom died or when Jenny died. How would he take Tom's death and would the Alzheimer's end up compounding his grief or actually relieving it? My fear for him was that it could trigger a downward spiral. Time would tell.
I kissed Mike goodbye and told him where I was going.
"Do you need me to go with you?" he offered.
"No, you stay here and look after the girls", I said after some consideration. "I may call you and ask you to come over later."
"Okay, Just let me know", he said hugging me tightly, "Narboza".
"Narboza", I replied and left.
I got there and Paula was already there. We hugged each other and quietly discussed how we should approach Dad. Should we all be there or have one of us tell him privately and then the others could come in for support? We agreed all of us should be with him when we broke the news.
We went in and greeted Dad with hugs and kisses. He was happy to see us both. I put on a movie to distract him while we busied ourselves with cleaning. Dad would probably have visitors all week and perhaps even overnight guests from out of town, best to get the house in order. Soon we were joined by Bradley, his wife and daughter.
An hour went by and Hillary had not yet left her house. Still overwhelmed, she was not up to coming over. It would fall on me and Paula to tell Dad. We both sat down on chairs in front of him.
"Dad, something has happened that we need to tell you about." Paula began, "Tom was flying his plane yesterday....." she paused, "There was an accident....his plane crashed...and Tom died in the crash." As she said this I reached over and held his arm gently.
I could see the comprehension slowly drain his face. "Wait", he said, not sure if he heard correctly, "Say that again, who died?"
"Tom. He crashed his plane." Dad appeared to deflate in front of us.
"This is my fault", he said regretfully.
"NO, it wasn't your fault at all, Dad!" I said, "Tom was a sportsman, he was an experienced pilot and nothing could have kept him from flying".
"It's my fault", he muttered again. "Do they know what went wrong?"
"No, Dad, it's under investigation. Not sure if it was a mechanical failure or if something else went wrong. He was a good pilot...kind of doubting it was pilot error", Paula explained, "They won't release the body until tomorrow."
"Was there a fire", Dad asked.
"No fire. He just pancaked the plane", she said, "I'm so sorry, Dad."
"I just want to be alone", he told us.
He looked completely desolate. It was his "block out the world" look that I had seen a handful of times in my life. Dad looked so much older in that moment.
"Dad, we're going to be here all day", I told him, "We have to get the house ready".
Paula and I both hugged him and got up. We went to the kitchen. "Why don't I make him some lunch and see if he'll eat?" I asked her.
"That sounds like a good idea. I'm going to call and see if someone is still with Ann and Casey. We also need to go through photo albums for a memorial slideshow", she added.
I made dad a sandwich and a plate of sliced fruit and brought it to him. He didn't see terribly interested. Then Mike and Allison arrived and Dad brightened up.
"Hey! How's it going?" Dad asked.
"We're fine...you doing okay?" Mike asked.
"I'm wonderful!" Dad said smiling. He was not being sarcastic. His smile betrayed what had happened. Alzheimer's had wiped away the past hour already.
After chatting with Mike a bit and asking who Allison was, where she went to school, etc., they joined the rest preparing the house. Dad called me over and asked, "Why is everyone here?" thinking, I imagine, that it must be a party.
I called Paula over and we explained about the crash again.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Dad asked angrily.
"We did tell you", Paula said, "but for some reason the Alzheimer's isn't allowing your brain to file it properly".
It was news that would be broken to him over and over with the same questions, the same guilt, the same dejection. This was going to be a very long week. We would not be able to keep from talking about it around him until after the funeral.
Shortly after that second revelation everyone left to run errands: Mike went to the hardware store for a gardening tool, Bradley went to gather more pictures from his home, Paula went the the grocery store for sandwiches and food to feed the army of family that would be in and out for the next few days. I stayed with Dad.
After about a half hour the phone rang. Likely we would start getting calls now that all immediate family had been informed and Tom's name was finally released to the public.
I answered the phone. It was my Uncle Henry. He was the oldest of Dad's three younger brothers.
"Hi, who am I speaking to?" he began.
"I am Erin, who is this?" I asked.
"It's Uncle Henry, your Dad's brother", he responded. I thought it was funny at the time that he felt the need to clarify but we hadn't seen him since Mom died so I guess that wasn't inappropriate to say.
"Erin...how are you and everyone? We just heard", he said sympathetically.
"It really hasn't sunk in yet", I answered as honestly as I could.
We chatted for a minute or two and then he asked, "How's your father? Can I speak to him?"
"Dad is fine but the Alzheimer's is making it difficult for him to process. I think this last time stuck though...hold on." I set the phone down (it's one of the few phones left in the world that isn't cordless) and went to get Dad from the other room.
Dad looked up from his chair and asked, "Who is that?"
"It's your brother Henry. He just heard about Tom's plane crash. You're probably going to get a lot of these condolence calls. Do you want to talk?"
"Yeah, I guess so", he said. He didn't question what I was talking about so perhaps our last retelling managed to sink in after all.
I walked back to the phone and Dad shuffled a few feet behind me.
I picked up the phone again, "Uncle Henry? Here's Dad..." and handed it to Dad.
"Hello?.....Who?....Oh, Henry, hi!" Dad didn't look at all sure who Henry was but he continued, "I'm fine....What? Wait, say that again....who was in a crash?" and looking at me in shock and anger asked, "Do you have any idea what he's talking about?" holding the phone out to me.
Suddenly I realized in horror that from the chair to the phone Dad had again forgotten what had happened and thought that he was hearing all of this for the first time from Uncle Henry. I took the phone and quickly said, "Uncle Henry, I'm so sorry to do this but we need to get off the phone now. I'll have Paula call you later. Thanks so much for calling!" and hung up on my poor, bewildered uncle. You see, none of Dad's brothers had seen him since Mom's death ten years ago. They had no idea the day to day reality of Dad's condition.
Dad slumped in the chair by the phone and again demanded to know what had happened. Again, I explained as gently as possible about the crash. Again, "Why didn't you tell me?" and, again, my explanation of what his illness was not doing with the information. It was like the most agonizing loop ever.
Eventually everyone came back and I related to Paula what had happened. By then Hillary had joined us. So much work to do. Paula received a call from one of Ann's brothers. Ann and Casey were alone at their house. Paula was going to go over, but she had so many other things to do I offered to go instead and try to get Ann and Casey to join us for dinner.
As I drove I wondered what I would find. Would Ann be calm or distraught? Knowing Casey and how close she and Tom were I could not even imagine her pain at losing her dad to the pastime he loved most.
As I pulled up to the house I noticed news van pull up behind me. I hung back to see what would happen. A tall, well dressed young woman got out and began walking to Tom's front door. "Wow! That's bold!" I thought and quickly caught up to her.
"Excuse me! Can I help you? " I called after her.
She turned around, surprised. "Oh, we were just hoping to talk to the family. Do you know them?"
"I am the family. I doubt they are ready for interviews", I stated.
"Well, we saw some of the posts made on Facebook, how respected he was. We were hoping to do a story on how he loved flying", she pushed.
"Here's the story: he loved flying", I replied tensely.
"Well, we don't have any pictures other than the one ran previously", she pressed, "Do you think you could persuade anyone to give us a more personal picture, maybe with his family? "
I thought about it for a moment...If they had access to the posts on Facebook then they should have plenty of pictures. They were just trying to get in.
"I will make a deal with you", I bargained. I will go in and speak to the widow. If she says no then you will respect her wishes and leave. Fair enough?"
"Okay, we can do that", she agreed.
I motioned her to step away from the porch and with my hand on the doorknob to control how much it opened I rang the bell. The faint sounds of movement drifted through the door. Casey answered.
I pushed in quickly through the small opening and shut the door behind me.
"There is a reporter outside who planned on walking right up and knocking. Where's your mom?" I asked.
"Oh my God!" Casey said covering her mouth in disbelief. "She's on the couch. "
We strode into the living room. "Are you up for an invasion of privacy? " I asked wryly. "There is a reporter outside requesting an interview. She said they would leave if you declined. "
"Whoa, that took a lot of nerve!" Ann exclaimed, "No, I don't think so. Geez, I can't believe they thought they could just come right over unannounced! "
"That's what I thought you would say", I agreed, "I'll go take care of it."
I went out through the narrowly opened door.
"His wife respectfully requests that you leave them alone", I said politely...then closed the door. I watched through the curtain as the disappointed reporter made her way back to the van. It was a lucky coincidence that I arrived when I did. Ann and Casey didn't need that. None of us did, but especially not them.
To be continued...
A: Again...and again...and again...and again...until after the funeral. After that you never mention it again ever, ever, ever.
The morning after the crash I was up early. I had not quite wrapped my mind around what had happened. Tom was gone...I hadn't dreamed it. I sent a text to Paula asking what time she was going to Dad's so we could be together to tell him. She had spent most of the evening before with Ann and Casey. Given Ann's illness it would be best not to leave her alone for very long. She would need a lot of support to get through this terrible turn of events. Fortunately her brothers had arrived to relieve Paula and spend the night with her. Tom's life and exuberance had given life to that house. It must feel so empty without him. Paula said if we didn't hear from Hillary by 9:00 AM we should probably head over to Dad's. I agreed.
I dressed as if it were any other Sunday visit, Jeans and a t-shirt. I wondered how Dad would handle the news. Dad has always been so stoic. I had never actually seen him cry...not when Mom died or when Jenny died. How would he take Tom's death and would the Alzheimer's end up compounding his grief or actually relieving it? My fear for him was that it could trigger a downward spiral. Time would tell.
I kissed Mike goodbye and told him where I was going.
"Do you need me to go with you?" he offered.
"No, you stay here and look after the girls", I said after some consideration. "I may call you and ask you to come over later."
"Okay, Just let me know", he said hugging me tightly, "Narboza".
"Narboza", I replied and left.
I got there and Paula was already there. We hugged each other and quietly discussed how we should approach Dad. Should we all be there or have one of us tell him privately and then the others could come in for support? We agreed all of us should be with him when we broke the news.
We went in and greeted Dad with hugs and kisses. He was happy to see us both. I put on a movie to distract him while we busied ourselves with cleaning. Dad would probably have visitors all week and perhaps even overnight guests from out of town, best to get the house in order. Soon we were joined by Bradley, his wife and daughter.
An hour went by and Hillary had not yet left her house. Still overwhelmed, she was not up to coming over. It would fall on me and Paula to tell Dad. We both sat down on chairs in front of him.
"Dad, something has happened that we need to tell you about." Paula began, "Tom was flying his plane yesterday....." she paused, "There was an accident....his plane crashed...and Tom died in the crash." As she said this I reached over and held his arm gently.
I could see the comprehension slowly drain his face. "Wait", he said, not sure if he heard correctly, "Say that again, who died?"
"Tom. He crashed his plane." Dad appeared to deflate in front of us.
"This is my fault", he said regretfully.
"NO, it wasn't your fault at all, Dad!" I said, "Tom was a sportsman, he was an experienced pilot and nothing could have kept him from flying".
"It's my fault", he muttered again. "Do they know what went wrong?"
"No, Dad, it's under investigation. Not sure if it was a mechanical failure or if something else went wrong. He was a good pilot...kind of doubting it was pilot error", Paula explained, "They won't release the body until tomorrow."
"Was there a fire", Dad asked.
"No fire. He just pancaked the plane", she said, "I'm so sorry, Dad."
"I just want to be alone", he told us.
He looked completely desolate. It was his "block out the world" look that I had seen a handful of times in my life. Dad looked so much older in that moment.
"Dad, we're going to be here all day", I told him, "We have to get the house ready".
Paula and I both hugged him and got up. We went to the kitchen. "Why don't I make him some lunch and see if he'll eat?" I asked her.
"That sounds like a good idea. I'm going to call and see if someone is still with Ann and Casey. We also need to go through photo albums for a memorial slideshow", she added.
I made dad a sandwich and a plate of sliced fruit and brought it to him. He didn't see terribly interested. Then Mike and Allison arrived and Dad brightened up.
"Hey! How's it going?" Dad asked.
"We're fine...you doing okay?" Mike asked.
"I'm wonderful!" Dad said smiling. He was not being sarcastic. His smile betrayed what had happened. Alzheimer's had wiped away the past hour already.
After chatting with Mike a bit and asking who Allison was, where she went to school, etc., they joined the rest preparing the house. Dad called me over and asked, "Why is everyone here?" thinking, I imagine, that it must be a party.
I called Paula over and we explained about the crash again.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Dad asked angrily.
"We did tell you", Paula said, "but for some reason the Alzheimer's isn't allowing your brain to file it properly".
It was news that would be broken to him over and over with the same questions, the same guilt, the same dejection. This was going to be a very long week. We would not be able to keep from talking about it around him until after the funeral.
Shortly after that second revelation everyone left to run errands: Mike went to the hardware store for a gardening tool, Bradley went to gather more pictures from his home, Paula went the the grocery store for sandwiches and food to feed the army of family that would be in and out for the next few days. I stayed with Dad.
After about a half hour the phone rang. Likely we would start getting calls now that all immediate family had been informed and Tom's name was finally released to the public.
I answered the phone. It was my Uncle Henry. He was the oldest of Dad's three younger brothers.
"Hi, who am I speaking to?" he began.
"I am Erin, who is this?" I asked.
"It's Uncle Henry, your Dad's brother", he responded. I thought it was funny at the time that he felt the need to clarify but we hadn't seen him since Mom died so I guess that wasn't inappropriate to say.
"Erin...how are you and everyone? We just heard", he said sympathetically.
"It really hasn't sunk in yet", I answered as honestly as I could.
We chatted for a minute or two and then he asked, "How's your father? Can I speak to him?"
"Dad is fine but the Alzheimer's is making it difficult for him to process. I think this last time stuck though...hold on." I set the phone down (it's one of the few phones left in the world that isn't cordless) and went to get Dad from the other room.
Dad looked up from his chair and asked, "Who is that?"
"It's your brother Henry. He just heard about Tom's plane crash. You're probably going to get a lot of these condolence calls. Do you want to talk?"
"Yeah, I guess so", he said. He didn't question what I was talking about so perhaps our last retelling managed to sink in after all.
I walked back to the phone and Dad shuffled a few feet behind me.
I picked up the phone again, "Uncle Henry? Here's Dad..." and handed it to Dad.
"Hello?.....Who?....Oh, Henry, hi!" Dad didn't look at all sure who Henry was but he continued, "I'm fine....What? Wait, say that again....who was in a crash?" and looking at me in shock and anger asked, "Do you have any idea what he's talking about?" holding the phone out to me.
Suddenly I realized in horror that from the chair to the phone Dad had again forgotten what had happened and thought that he was hearing all of this for the first time from Uncle Henry. I took the phone and quickly said, "Uncle Henry, I'm so sorry to do this but we need to get off the phone now. I'll have Paula call you later. Thanks so much for calling!" and hung up on my poor, bewildered uncle. You see, none of Dad's brothers had seen him since Mom's death ten years ago. They had no idea the day to day reality of Dad's condition.
Dad slumped in the chair by the phone and again demanded to know what had happened. Again, I explained as gently as possible about the crash. Again, "Why didn't you tell me?" and, again, my explanation of what his illness was not doing with the information. It was like the most agonizing loop ever.
Eventually everyone came back and I related to Paula what had happened. By then Hillary had joined us. So much work to do. Paula received a call from one of Ann's brothers. Ann and Casey were alone at their house. Paula was going to go over, but she had so many other things to do I offered to go instead and try to get Ann and Casey to join us for dinner.
As I drove I wondered what I would find. Would Ann be calm or distraught? Knowing Casey and how close she and Tom were I could not even imagine her pain at losing her dad to the pastime he loved most.
As I pulled up to the house I noticed news van pull up behind me. I hung back to see what would happen. A tall, well dressed young woman got out and began walking to Tom's front door. "Wow! That's bold!" I thought and quickly caught up to her.
"Excuse me! Can I help you? " I called after her.
She turned around, surprised. "Oh, we were just hoping to talk to the family. Do you know them?"
"I am the family. I doubt they are ready for interviews", I stated.
"Well, we saw some of the posts made on Facebook, how respected he was. We were hoping to do a story on how he loved flying", she pushed.
"Here's the story: he loved flying", I replied tensely.
"Well, we don't have any pictures other than the one ran previously", she pressed, "Do you think you could persuade anyone to give us a more personal picture, maybe with his family? "
I thought about it for a moment...If they had access to the posts on Facebook then they should have plenty of pictures. They were just trying to get in.
"I will make a deal with you", I bargained. I will go in and speak to the widow. If she says no then you will respect her wishes and leave. Fair enough?"
"Okay, we can do that", she agreed.
I motioned her to step away from the porch and with my hand on the doorknob to control how much it opened I rang the bell. The faint sounds of movement drifted through the door. Casey answered.
I pushed in quickly through the small opening and shut the door behind me.
"There is a reporter outside who planned on walking right up and knocking. Where's your mom?" I asked.
"Oh my God!" Casey said covering her mouth in disbelief. "She's on the couch. "
We strode into the living room. "Are you up for an invasion of privacy? " I asked wryly. "There is a reporter outside requesting an interview. She said they would leave if you declined. "
"Whoa, that took a lot of nerve!" Ann exclaimed, "No, I don't think so. Geez, I can't believe they thought they could just come right over unannounced! "
"That's what I thought you would say", I agreed, "I'll go take care of it."
I went out through the narrowly opened door.
"His wife respectfully requests that you leave them alone", I said politely...then closed the door. I watched through the curtain as the disappointed reporter made her way back to the van. It was a lucky coincidence that I arrived when I did. Ann and Casey didn't need that. None of us did, but especially not them.
To be continued...
Monday, September 1, 2014
Half....(part one)
Tom was gone...in an instant...now I have two living sisters and half my Dad. In just over ten years I have lost half my birth family: the two youngest of my four older siblings, my mother, and slowly, painfully, my father. It has been two months since that terrible accident that took our Tom so I will do my best to recall for my readers the weeks that followed, how our roles have changed, how our views of care giving have morphed, and how our sense of responsibility has become more acute.
We continued our drive to the airport to pick up Kelly. No one said a word for several minutes. Mike held my left hand and Allison held my right. I broke the silence. "How will we ever tell Kelly? She is expecting a happy home coming. This is not okay."
"Let's get her bags and act normal", Mike suggested, "We'll find somewhere to sit and then we will tell her".
More deafening silence followed for several minutes. I wondered why I couldn't cry. My only brother was dead! What was wrong with me?
We arrived at the airport and waited for her at the international arrival gate. It seemed like forever. There was a food court right next to the gate so we found a table, sat and watched as one by one the passengers exited. Finally, we saw Kelly, tan and smiling, rolling out. She waved and made her way toward us. Kelly saw my eyes tearing up and exclaimed, "Aaw, Mom!" and hugged me. Truthfully, I think they really were tears of happiness to see her safely home.
"Sweetie", I began, "We have something to tell you...." and explained what had happened.
"Why didn't anyone tell me before?" Kelly asked, still stunned.
"It just happened. You were already in the air when his plane crashed", I explained, "We were on our way here when we found out". It was a heavy thing to come home to. So unfair. We rolled off to the car and headed home.
While Mike drove I began messaging Paula. Did Hillary know yet? Paula said she was still trying to reach her. Hillary's cell phone was going straight to voicemail. The message box on her home phone was full. No one had her boyfriend's phone number. Paula racked her brain to remember his full name.
Next I called Sara. We talked for over an hour. Sara asked if I needed her to come. She and her family lived in Colorado and had just moved into a new home a day earlier. I knew she was exhausted. On top of that, apparently I was not that upset. I had known for hours and no tears, no lashing out, nothing.
"Nah, it's okay. I know you have a lot going on. It's sweet of you to offer but I'll be okay", I reassured her.
"Okay, well if you need me, you know I'll drop everything and hop in the car", she replied. I knew she meant it.
Then I called Ann.
"Oh, Erin, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" she asked. I couldn't believe she was thinking of other people's pain at a time like this. It was her husband that was killed. What a rare and good person.
"I'm fine, honey. How are you and Casey?" I asked.
"I don't know what we're going to do. Tom was my rock. He was Casey's best friend. I can't imagine life without him", she lamented. There really was no comfort I could offer her other than a sympathetic ear and reassurance that we would all help her through this.
After we hung up my phone rang again. It was Candace, my walking buddy and the mother of Allison's best friend, Heather. Candace was crying uncontrollably.
"Heather just told me what happened! That's so horrible! I'm so sorry!" she sobbed.
Now I was getting unnerved. Candace had never met my brother but she was taking this much harder than me.
"It's okay, really! I'm fine!" I told her.
"Aren't you upset?" she asked, surprised at how composed I seemed.
"Well, yeah, I'm upset", I responded (God, I hope I'm upset! What the hell is wrong with me?) "I just don't grieve like that. Actually, I'm kind of surprised myself by how level I am right now."
I finished talking to Candace and called Paula. "Have you been able to reach Hillary yet?" I asked.
"No, I have left a few messages. I hope we can reach her tonight. I don't want her to find out on the news", she said.
"Oh, God, I hadn't even thought about that!" I replied, "Even broken, his plane is pretty easy to recognize. If they show the plane and she sees it, she will freak."
"Do you think we should go over and tell Dad tonight?" she asked.
"Only if we find Hillary. I think the three of us should tell him together", I said after some thought. "I really don't see any point in telling him tonight. If he doesn't retain it we will have to do it all over again tomorrow. Better to do it when he doesn't have to be alone." She agreed, so that was the plan.
I only had one more thing I wanted to do before calling it a night. I kept asking Mike the time trying to determine whether his parents in Europe would be awake. Mike's parents are wonderfully supportive. They have been like parents to me as well. I wanted to reach them as soon as possible to assure them that Kelly made it home safely and to tell them what had happened. We definitely didn't want them hearing from a third party. After all, they had know Tom since he was twelve. Better to hear it from us. Starting at 11:00 PM I began trying to Skype them. I must have tried ten times. No answer. Mike kept asking me why it was so important to me to reach them that night. I wasn't sure, I just knew I really wanted to talk to them. It didn't matter anyway. They weren't answering. It would have to wait until tomorrow.
I went to bed. Sometime around 2:00 AM Paula finally was able to reach Hillary to break the news. Hillary was inconsolable. (Seriously...what was wrong with me???)
To be continued...
We continued our drive to the airport to pick up Kelly. No one said a word for several minutes. Mike held my left hand and Allison held my right. I broke the silence. "How will we ever tell Kelly? She is expecting a happy home coming. This is not okay."
"Let's get her bags and act normal", Mike suggested, "We'll find somewhere to sit and then we will tell her".
More deafening silence followed for several minutes. I wondered why I couldn't cry. My only brother was dead! What was wrong with me?
We arrived at the airport and waited for her at the international arrival gate. It seemed like forever. There was a food court right next to the gate so we found a table, sat and watched as one by one the passengers exited. Finally, we saw Kelly, tan and smiling, rolling out. She waved and made her way toward us. Kelly saw my eyes tearing up and exclaimed, "Aaw, Mom!" and hugged me. Truthfully, I think they really were tears of happiness to see her safely home.
"Sweetie", I began, "We have something to tell you...." and explained what had happened.
"Why didn't anyone tell me before?" Kelly asked, still stunned.
"It just happened. You were already in the air when his plane crashed", I explained, "We were on our way here when we found out". It was a heavy thing to come home to. So unfair. We rolled off to the car and headed home.
While Mike drove I began messaging Paula. Did Hillary know yet? Paula said she was still trying to reach her. Hillary's cell phone was going straight to voicemail. The message box on her home phone was full. No one had her boyfriend's phone number. Paula racked her brain to remember his full name.
Next I called Sara. We talked for over an hour. Sara asked if I needed her to come. She and her family lived in Colorado and had just moved into a new home a day earlier. I knew she was exhausted. On top of that, apparently I was not that upset. I had known for hours and no tears, no lashing out, nothing.
"Nah, it's okay. I know you have a lot going on. It's sweet of you to offer but I'll be okay", I reassured her.
"Okay, well if you need me, you know I'll drop everything and hop in the car", she replied. I knew she meant it.
Then I called Ann.
"Oh, Erin, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" she asked. I couldn't believe she was thinking of other people's pain at a time like this. It was her husband that was killed. What a rare and good person.
"I'm fine, honey. How are you and Casey?" I asked.
"I don't know what we're going to do. Tom was my rock. He was Casey's best friend. I can't imagine life without him", she lamented. There really was no comfort I could offer her other than a sympathetic ear and reassurance that we would all help her through this.
After we hung up my phone rang again. It was Candace, my walking buddy and the mother of Allison's best friend, Heather. Candace was crying uncontrollably.
"Heather just told me what happened! That's so horrible! I'm so sorry!" she sobbed.
Now I was getting unnerved. Candace had never met my brother but she was taking this much harder than me.
"It's okay, really! I'm fine!" I told her.
"Aren't you upset?" she asked, surprised at how composed I seemed.
"Well, yeah, I'm upset", I responded (God, I hope I'm upset! What the hell is wrong with me?) "I just don't grieve like that. Actually, I'm kind of surprised myself by how level I am right now."
I finished talking to Candace and called Paula. "Have you been able to reach Hillary yet?" I asked.
"No, I have left a few messages. I hope we can reach her tonight. I don't want her to find out on the news", she said.
"Oh, God, I hadn't even thought about that!" I replied, "Even broken, his plane is pretty easy to recognize. If they show the plane and she sees it, she will freak."
"Do you think we should go over and tell Dad tonight?" she asked.
"Only if we find Hillary. I think the three of us should tell him together", I said after some thought. "I really don't see any point in telling him tonight. If he doesn't retain it we will have to do it all over again tomorrow. Better to do it when he doesn't have to be alone." She agreed, so that was the plan.
I only had one more thing I wanted to do before calling it a night. I kept asking Mike the time trying to determine whether his parents in Europe would be awake. Mike's parents are wonderfully supportive. They have been like parents to me as well. I wanted to reach them as soon as possible to assure them that Kelly made it home safely and to tell them what had happened. We definitely didn't want them hearing from a third party. After all, they had know Tom since he was twelve. Better to hear it from us. Starting at 11:00 PM I began trying to Skype them. I must have tried ten times. No answer. Mike kept asking me why it was so important to me to reach them that night. I wasn't sure, I just knew I really wanted to talk to them. It didn't matter anyway. They weren't answering. It would have to wait until tomorrow.
I went to bed. Sometime around 2:00 AM Paula finally was able to reach Hillary to break the news. Hillary was inconsolable. (Seriously...what was wrong with me???)
To be continued...
Time for a Summit meeting (part 2)
When a date was decided upon for the family caregiver meeting it was set for two weeks out, giving all of us time to prepare and, in some cases, argue. Tom and I had particular concerns given our work schedules and having spouses and children who depend on us. He and I, having similar interests, leaned on each other for support during those two weeks. Both taking three shifts a week each and knowing that Hillary had four to five shifts Tom and I both felt it was important to propose bringing in a professional caregiver to reduce the number of shifts specifically required of us and of Hillary. We knew presenting this idea could likely cause discord but, given the strain the schedule had imposed on our children and spouses, we knew change was imperative...so we braced ourselves and pressed forward.
The day came. We had agreed to meet on a Sunday afternoon at Paula's house. Mike and I arrived a few minutes early. No one was home. I think we were both nervous. We chatted as we waited.
"This could be really short", I said.
"Yup. I think that's most likely what will happen. Short and loud", Mike replied.
"That's what I'm afraid of".
Bradly and his wife were the first to arrive. They, too, were worried about the situation turning volatile.
Then Tom arrived, alone. He also was concerned there would be a blow out, and refused to expose his wife, Ann, to unnecessary tension. He was resolved to lighten the load that day.
Finally, Hillary and Paula arrived. They came in with drinks for everyone (the brutal Texas summer seemed to have started early). Paula began by giving us a brief review of the medical appointments we had prior to the meeting. Several medical concerns including edema and diminished mobility were covered. Then Tom opened the subject of reducing shifts. (I will not be using caregiver names other then mine and Tom's during this segment. They will be CG1, CG2 and CG3 so as not to disclose who is who.)
"I just want to say, and I know Erin agrees, this schedule can't continue the way it is", he interjected, "we all have people who depend on us and it is not fair for me and Erin to give up forty percent of our evenings when we have kids in school."
"It is way too soon to talk about a home, Dad is not that far gone", CG1 insisted.
Simultaneously Tom and I said firmly, "NO ONE is talking about putting Dad in a home!"
Stunned and surprised, CG1 replied, "Well then what ARE we talking about?"
Tom pushed forward, "We all need our afternoons available for work and Erin and I would both like to cut one shift a week. I think we need to start looking for an in home caregiver. Erin and I have both called some places to price what a day nurse would run. It is looking like $17 to $20 per hour."
CG1 and CG2 both had concerns about bringing in an outsider...actually, we all did but none of us were in a position to quit working and take care of Dad full time.
CG2 suggested, "Why don't we ask Dad's former scrub nurses if either of them would be willing to pick up some extra money? I personally would feel better if the daytime caregiver was someone Dad already knew and trusted". We all agreed after some discussion that would be a good idea. The backup plan would be to start interviewing caregivers within the month and to have someone in place by the end of the month.
It was agreed that a professional caregiver would be hired for four afternoons a week in order to pare everyone down to a more tolerable and balanced two shifts a week for everyone except Bradley who would remain at one shift on Saturday afternoons. We briefly touched upon the sore subject of when it WOULD be time to consider a home. It was agreed that as long as Dad could still recognize where he was, it would be best to keep him in his own house. Beyond that we would have to play it by ear.
Regarding Dad's mobility, having had a stroke two years ago, the doctors found that one of his legs was "a peg", basically just used for balance and scooting along. We discussed his diminishing mobility and his tendency to dig and tear at his legs. It was agreed by all that Dad needed physical therapy to prolong his mobility and, with that, his illusion of independence. We also discussed installing a rail on the back porch and a "daddy cam" so we could log in and check on him during the day.
As the meeting drew to a close Paula stated outright that she knew the sacrifices that everyone was making and how unfair it was to our families. In no uncertain terms she made it clear her belief that Dad was no longer capable of getting better. Our job as his family is to provide him with humane and loving care as his disease progresses. She then thanked me saying, "Erin, this meeting was a very good idea. We really needed it".
So we proceeded with the plan: Tom and I were assigned to locate an appropriate caregiver if neither of Dad's scrub nurses were able to take the job, Hillary would see if Dad's regular doctor could recommend physical therapy to improve Dad's mobility and Paula would look into the necessary household repairs to make the home safer for Dad and marketable should we at some point need to sell it in order to fund Dad's care.
Hillary did get a recommendation for Dad to receive physical therapy. The twice weekly sessions started within a week.
In the two weeks that followed I asked Paula in a group message if she had contacted Dad's scrub nurses to see if either would be willing to help.
"Yes", she replied, "but they have not responded. I think if it was going to be a 'yes' I would have heard back fairly quickly".
"Okay, so would it be okay if Tom and I start interviewing caregivers?"
"Yeah, that would be great", she replied.
Privately, Tom sent me a message. "Thank you for that".
"No problem", I said, "I don't want this to be forgotten or swept under the rug."
"It needs to happen", Tom said, "Solidarity, sis".
"Got your back, Jack". We had formed a partnership through this common goal.
Over the next few days I called several services to set up interviews. The one thing that I kept hearing was, "We normally just place a caregiver we think is appropriate in home but if you feel you must interview them we can arrange that."
I set up the first interview for after work the following Monday. Because I had to rush home to drive Kelly to the airport for her summer trip to France I could not stay for the entire interview. Tom and I agreed to tag team the interview, with me conducting the first half, overlapping for about fifteen minutes and Tom finishing.
As I entered the office I received a call from Tom assuring me he was on his way. The director was a lovely woman named Lana. She greeted me right away and we sat and got to know each other. It's fair to say I was impressed with Lana right away and felt comfortable that she would be a fairly good judge of the type of caregiver that would be a good fit for Dad. Within a few minutes the candidate arrived. Her name was Opal.
Opal was a very chatty young woman in her early thirties with ten years of experience in hospitals. She had over a year of experience in private home health care and was eager to help.
Tom arrived and quickly introduced himself. I gave him a quick hug and we got down to business. We reviewed some of Opal's experience again. We spent a few minutes covering the required responsibilities: meals, meds, pet feeding, eye drops, engaging conversation. We made sure she was aware that Dad had a tendency to say inappropriate, sometimes even offensive things occasionally but that he truly did not intend to be hurtful. He is really a very sweet person. We also encouraged Opal to show Dad photo albums and ask questions about his life.
"Whatever he tells you he has done, no matter how outrageous, he probably did it. He is a very interesting person", I told her in parting. I said goodbye and left to take Kelly to the airport.
After seeing Kelly off I drove home and received a call from Tom on my car phone.
"So, what did you think?" he asked.
I had already formed an opinion but wanted to hear his side first.
"I thought she seemed nice. Very chatty. I have never interviewed someone before so how did you feel about her?" I probed.
"She was very chatty, that might be really great for Dad. She kinda reminded me of Peggy, Dad's scrub nurse. I think it would be a mistake not to give her a chance", he said.
I agreed and we started messaging our opinions to our sisters and nephew. Opal was in. She would start the next day.
A week passed with Opal being trained by each of us. The following Monday she would start taking shifts on her own. She seemed to slip into the role quite well.
Thank goodness we had her in place because no one could prepare us for the events of the next week. I walked in for my Friday visit and proceeded with shower night as usual. After Dad was safely in the shower, I took all the dirty clothes to the laundry room and...*sploosh*...stepped in a growing puddle. Water was dripping from the ceiling. "Not again!" I thought. We were all really getting tired of household repairs. I immediately alerted Paula who told me to use the long wrench and turn off the water at the street to determine if it was a leaking pipe or the air conditioner. After Dad finished his shower I grabbed the wrench, went out and shut off the water to the house, went back in, turned on the faucets until the water stopped and waited to see if the ceiling water stopped dripping. It didn't. It was the air conditioner.
We called the service that we normally use but were told they would not be able to make it out until Tuesday. It was recommended since there were two air conditioners to turn off the one that was dripping and close off that part of the house until someone could come out and service it. Unfortunately, Tuesday was not going to work for Hillary and neither would Wednesday because she had to take Dad to physical therapy. To accommodate us the repair service agreed to come to the house at 5:30, technically after hours but still workable for them and for us. Since it was Tom's night for a visit I told him I would get there by 5:30 since he wouldn't be off until after 6:00 and he could take over when he got there. The service man arrived as scheduled and began working. Tom then arrived shortly after 6:00 to take over. I briefed him on what we knew so far and picked up my things to leave.
"So...how'd you like having Tuesday night to yourself for a change?" I asked in reference to the fact that he had just had his first non-Dad Tuesday in over a year.
"Oh my God, that was so nice!" he said smiling. "I'm so glad we did this!"
"Yeah, it's going to be such a relief", I said. "You look like you have lost some weight."
"Been boxing a lot", he replied.
We said goodbye and I headed home. I never did hear anything else about it so I assumed that the AC was fixed.
Opal did well for the remainder of the week and I enjoyed my first Thursday off in over a year. That Saturday we would have to juggle Dad night with picking up Kelly from the airport. We opted to visit Dad earlier than usual, leave to pick her up around 6:00, and come back and finish our visit.
Early dinner with Dad was uneventful. He protested as we left but we promised to come back and watch a movie with him. Dad waved goodbye as we headed to the airport.
Mike, Allison and I were chatting about how nice it would be to see Kelly again, musing about what stories she would have about France, sure that most of them would be about all of the wonderful new food she tried. Then the car phone rang. It was Paula sobbing uncontrollably but we could barely understand her because the connection was terrible. All we could understand was "airport", "crash" and "dead". Our hearts stopped as we called her back hoping for a better connection. Please, God, not our Kelly.
"Erin, I'm so sorry to tell you this way", she apologized through tears.
"Wait! We couldn't understand you. Who's dead, Paula?" Mike and I asked frantically, talking over each other.
"Tom! He crashed his plane! Casey saw the whole thing."
To be continued...
The day came. We had agreed to meet on a Sunday afternoon at Paula's house. Mike and I arrived a few minutes early. No one was home. I think we were both nervous. We chatted as we waited.
"This could be really short", I said.
"Yup. I think that's most likely what will happen. Short and loud", Mike replied.
"That's what I'm afraid of".
Bradly and his wife were the first to arrive. They, too, were worried about the situation turning volatile.
Then Tom arrived, alone. He also was concerned there would be a blow out, and refused to expose his wife, Ann, to unnecessary tension. He was resolved to lighten the load that day.
Finally, Hillary and Paula arrived. They came in with drinks for everyone (the brutal Texas summer seemed to have started early). Paula began by giving us a brief review of the medical appointments we had prior to the meeting. Several medical concerns including edema and diminished mobility were covered. Then Tom opened the subject of reducing shifts. (I will not be using caregiver names other then mine and Tom's during this segment. They will be CG1, CG2 and CG3 so as not to disclose who is who.)
"I just want to say, and I know Erin agrees, this schedule can't continue the way it is", he interjected, "we all have people who depend on us and it is not fair for me and Erin to give up forty percent of our evenings when we have kids in school."
"It is way too soon to talk about a home, Dad is not that far gone", CG1 insisted.
Simultaneously Tom and I said firmly, "NO ONE is talking about putting Dad in a home!"
Stunned and surprised, CG1 replied, "Well then what ARE we talking about?"
Tom pushed forward, "We all need our afternoons available for work and Erin and I would both like to cut one shift a week. I think we need to start looking for an in home caregiver. Erin and I have both called some places to price what a day nurse would run. It is looking like $17 to $20 per hour."
CG1 and CG2 both had concerns about bringing in an outsider...actually, we all did but none of us were in a position to quit working and take care of Dad full time.
CG2 suggested, "Why don't we ask Dad's former scrub nurses if either of them would be willing to pick up some extra money? I personally would feel better if the daytime caregiver was someone Dad already knew and trusted". We all agreed after some discussion that would be a good idea. The backup plan would be to start interviewing caregivers within the month and to have someone in place by the end of the month.
It was agreed that a professional caregiver would be hired for four afternoons a week in order to pare everyone down to a more tolerable and balanced two shifts a week for everyone except Bradley who would remain at one shift on Saturday afternoons. We briefly touched upon the sore subject of when it WOULD be time to consider a home. It was agreed that as long as Dad could still recognize where he was, it would be best to keep him in his own house. Beyond that we would have to play it by ear.
Regarding Dad's mobility, having had a stroke two years ago, the doctors found that one of his legs was "a peg", basically just used for balance and scooting along. We discussed his diminishing mobility and his tendency to dig and tear at his legs. It was agreed by all that Dad needed physical therapy to prolong his mobility and, with that, his illusion of independence. We also discussed installing a rail on the back porch and a "daddy cam" so we could log in and check on him during the day.
As the meeting drew to a close Paula stated outright that she knew the sacrifices that everyone was making and how unfair it was to our families. In no uncertain terms she made it clear her belief that Dad was no longer capable of getting better. Our job as his family is to provide him with humane and loving care as his disease progresses. She then thanked me saying, "Erin, this meeting was a very good idea. We really needed it".
So we proceeded with the plan: Tom and I were assigned to locate an appropriate caregiver if neither of Dad's scrub nurses were able to take the job, Hillary would see if Dad's regular doctor could recommend physical therapy to improve Dad's mobility and Paula would look into the necessary household repairs to make the home safer for Dad and marketable should we at some point need to sell it in order to fund Dad's care.
Hillary did get a recommendation for Dad to receive physical therapy. The twice weekly sessions started within a week.
In the two weeks that followed I asked Paula in a group message if she had contacted Dad's scrub nurses to see if either would be willing to help.
"Yes", she replied, "but they have not responded. I think if it was going to be a 'yes' I would have heard back fairly quickly".
"Okay, so would it be okay if Tom and I start interviewing caregivers?"
"Yeah, that would be great", she replied.
Privately, Tom sent me a message. "Thank you for that".
"No problem", I said, "I don't want this to be forgotten or swept under the rug."
"It needs to happen", Tom said, "Solidarity, sis".
"Got your back, Jack". We had formed a partnership through this common goal.
Over the next few days I called several services to set up interviews. The one thing that I kept hearing was, "We normally just place a caregiver we think is appropriate in home but if you feel you must interview them we can arrange that."
I set up the first interview for after work the following Monday. Because I had to rush home to drive Kelly to the airport for her summer trip to France I could not stay for the entire interview. Tom and I agreed to tag team the interview, with me conducting the first half, overlapping for about fifteen minutes and Tom finishing.
As I entered the office I received a call from Tom assuring me he was on his way. The director was a lovely woman named Lana. She greeted me right away and we sat and got to know each other. It's fair to say I was impressed with Lana right away and felt comfortable that she would be a fairly good judge of the type of caregiver that would be a good fit for Dad. Within a few minutes the candidate arrived. Her name was Opal.
Opal was a very chatty young woman in her early thirties with ten years of experience in hospitals. She had over a year of experience in private home health care and was eager to help.
Tom arrived and quickly introduced himself. I gave him a quick hug and we got down to business. We reviewed some of Opal's experience again. We spent a few minutes covering the required responsibilities: meals, meds, pet feeding, eye drops, engaging conversation. We made sure she was aware that Dad had a tendency to say inappropriate, sometimes even offensive things occasionally but that he truly did not intend to be hurtful. He is really a very sweet person. We also encouraged Opal to show Dad photo albums and ask questions about his life.
"Whatever he tells you he has done, no matter how outrageous, he probably did it. He is a very interesting person", I told her in parting. I said goodbye and left to take Kelly to the airport.
After seeing Kelly off I drove home and received a call from Tom on my car phone.
"So, what did you think?" he asked.
I had already formed an opinion but wanted to hear his side first.
"I thought she seemed nice. Very chatty. I have never interviewed someone before so how did you feel about her?" I probed.
"She was very chatty, that might be really great for Dad. She kinda reminded me of Peggy, Dad's scrub nurse. I think it would be a mistake not to give her a chance", he said.
I agreed and we started messaging our opinions to our sisters and nephew. Opal was in. She would start the next day.
A week passed with Opal being trained by each of us. The following Monday she would start taking shifts on her own. She seemed to slip into the role quite well.
Thank goodness we had her in place because no one could prepare us for the events of the next week. I walked in for my Friday visit and proceeded with shower night as usual. After Dad was safely in the shower, I took all the dirty clothes to the laundry room and...*sploosh*...stepped in a growing puddle. Water was dripping from the ceiling. "Not again!" I thought. We were all really getting tired of household repairs. I immediately alerted Paula who told me to use the long wrench and turn off the water at the street to determine if it was a leaking pipe or the air conditioner. After Dad finished his shower I grabbed the wrench, went out and shut off the water to the house, went back in, turned on the faucets until the water stopped and waited to see if the ceiling water stopped dripping. It didn't. It was the air conditioner.
We called the service that we normally use but were told they would not be able to make it out until Tuesday. It was recommended since there were two air conditioners to turn off the one that was dripping and close off that part of the house until someone could come out and service it. Unfortunately, Tuesday was not going to work for Hillary and neither would Wednesday because she had to take Dad to physical therapy. To accommodate us the repair service agreed to come to the house at 5:30, technically after hours but still workable for them and for us. Since it was Tom's night for a visit I told him I would get there by 5:30 since he wouldn't be off until after 6:00 and he could take over when he got there. The service man arrived as scheduled and began working. Tom then arrived shortly after 6:00 to take over. I briefed him on what we knew so far and picked up my things to leave.
"So...how'd you like having Tuesday night to yourself for a change?" I asked in reference to the fact that he had just had his first non-Dad Tuesday in over a year.
"Oh my God, that was so nice!" he said smiling. "I'm so glad we did this!"
"Yeah, it's going to be such a relief", I said. "You look like you have lost some weight."
"Been boxing a lot", he replied.
We said goodbye and I headed home. I never did hear anything else about it so I assumed that the AC was fixed.
Opal did well for the remainder of the week and I enjoyed my first Thursday off in over a year. That Saturday we would have to juggle Dad night with picking up Kelly from the airport. We opted to visit Dad earlier than usual, leave to pick her up around 6:00, and come back and finish our visit.
Early dinner with Dad was uneventful. He protested as we left but we promised to come back and watch a movie with him. Dad waved goodbye as we headed to the airport.
Mike, Allison and I were chatting about how nice it would be to see Kelly again, musing about what stories she would have about France, sure that most of them would be about all of the wonderful new food she tried. Then the car phone rang. It was Paula sobbing uncontrollably but we could barely understand her because the connection was terrible. All we could understand was "airport", "crash" and "dead". Our hearts stopped as we called her back hoping for a better connection. Please, God, not our Kelly.
"Erin, I'm so sorry to tell you this way", she apologized through tears.
"Wait! We couldn't understand you. Who's dead, Paula?" Mike and I asked frantically, talking over each other.
"Tom! He crashed his plane! Casey saw the whole thing."
To be continued...
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Time for a summit meeting (part 1)
Having a family full of stubborn people, myself included, makes it particularly difficult to draw the line where family care transitions to professional care. My personal belief is that when the patient exhibits behavior or concerns that threaten the patient's health or survival, it is time to discuss easing into, at the very least, a daycare or assisted living solution. Such indications appeared to be surfacing recently. Dad's ability to communicate effectively is becoming more compromised as weeks pass. He is sitting in his chair far too long and, as a result, losing muscle tone and causing a noticeable amount of edema (swelling/fluid retention due to lack of circulation) in his ankles and feet. These are all bad signs but the worst indication happened two month ago.
Hillary had sent out several texts regarding one of the gates to Dad's backyard being left open. She speculated that either the gardener had been leaving it open or possibly an intruder was getting into the backyard. Either possibility was unacceptable and the gate needed a lock immediately. Tom offered to acquire one and handle installation.
Being very stressed about Allison's school work, Kelly's graduation schedule and other pressing matters, I have been trying to bring Mike along with me when caring for Dad to help alleviate some of the stress. My Thursday and Friday visits came and went as usual. Saturday came and Mike accompanied me with the intention of clearing some of the dead trees and shrubs from around the house. As we pulled into the driveway we saw Dad walking around in front of the carport with Buddy running loose in the yard. This was very unusual. We walked back in and sat him down for dinner, keeping this change of behavior in the back of our minds. On the positive side, he did seem to know who we were, for the most part, but why was he out in the driveway? Had one of his other caregivers just left?
After dinner, I sat down and watched a movie with him for a bit. When it was time to leave, we said goodbye as usual.
"Don't forget to go inside and put your feet up after we leave", I called behind me, but as we got in my car we realized he wasn't standing up on the porch as usual. He had followed us down the brick stairs to the carport and into the driveway. I waved again and told him to go inside but we were not convinced he would follow instructions.
Beside my Dad's property is a little neighborhood. After exiting the driveway we pulled into the neighborhood and parked the car. Mike got out and walked over to the edge of Dad's property and called me on his cell phone. I could hear the wind blowing through the phone as he watched and reported back to me.
"He's still outside....now he's walking toward the front of the house.....looks like he's trying to open the front door..."
"He won't be able to", I said, "It's locked".
The wind continued to whistle through the phone line.
"....okay, he looks like he's bending over to get something. Is there a key under the mat?"
"I'm not even sure there is a mat. No, there wouldn't be a key there. Come on back, we have to go back and help him".
Mike came back and got in the car and we drove back down the driveway. I got out and walked over.
Taking Dad's arm I said, "Did you forget? It's okay, Dad, you just forgot..."
"No", Dad said, trying to cover for himself, "I was just checking to see if there was a card to get in the side door".
Puzzling, his use of the word card instead of key.
"The side door is unlocked, Dad. That's the way you came out."
He looked at me in disbelief.
"It's okay, Dad. We understand", I said.
"Understand what", he replied, almost offended that we didn't buy his explanation.
"You just forgot, it's okay."
"I didn't forget", he mumbled indignantly.
He climbed the stairs shakily and crossed the back porch. We waived and honked as usual and drove around the corner into the neighborhood street. Again, Mike walked back to see if Dad had gone inside.
"Okay", he reported, wind still blowing through the connection, "He's not outside and the light is off. You can't turn out the lights from the outside, right? He must be inside."
Satisfied Dad was safely in the house we went home...but the incident continued to haunt me. I decided to write an email blast to all the caregivers relating what had happened and asking who was the last person there and what time they had left. I was really hoping that when we had arrived and he was in the driveway perhaps we had just missed someone and he had not been out there long. Responses were immediate.
Paula: "Well , damn! Maybe exercising him by walking around the driveway isn't such a good idea after all."
Hillary had sent out several texts regarding one of the gates to Dad's backyard being left open. She speculated that either the gardener had been leaving it open or possibly an intruder was getting into the backyard. Either possibility was unacceptable and the gate needed a lock immediately. Tom offered to acquire one and handle installation.
Being very stressed about Allison's school work, Kelly's graduation schedule and other pressing matters, I have been trying to bring Mike along with me when caring for Dad to help alleviate some of the stress. My Thursday and Friday visits came and went as usual. Saturday came and Mike accompanied me with the intention of clearing some of the dead trees and shrubs from around the house. As we pulled into the driveway we saw Dad walking around in front of the carport with Buddy running loose in the yard. This was very unusual. We walked back in and sat him down for dinner, keeping this change of behavior in the back of our minds. On the positive side, he did seem to know who we were, for the most part, but why was he out in the driveway? Had one of his other caregivers just left?
After dinner, I sat down and watched a movie with him for a bit. When it was time to leave, we said goodbye as usual.
"Don't forget to go inside and put your feet up after we leave", I called behind me, but as we got in my car we realized he wasn't standing up on the porch as usual. He had followed us down the brick stairs to the carport and into the driveway. I waved again and told him to go inside but we were not convinced he would follow instructions.
Beside my Dad's property is a little neighborhood. After exiting the driveway we pulled into the neighborhood and parked the car. Mike got out and walked over to the edge of Dad's property and called me on his cell phone. I could hear the wind blowing through the phone as he watched and reported back to me.
"He's still outside....now he's walking toward the front of the house.....looks like he's trying to open the front door..."
"He won't be able to", I said, "It's locked".
The wind continued to whistle through the phone line.
"....okay, he looks like he's bending over to get something. Is there a key under the mat?"
"I'm not even sure there is a mat. No, there wouldn't be a key there. Come on back, we have to go back and help him".
Mike came back and got in the car and we drove back down the driveway. I got out and walked over.
Taking Dad's arm I said, "Did you forget? It's okay, Dad, you just forgot..."
"No", Dad said, trying to cover for himself, "I was just checking to see if there was a card to get in the side door".
Puzzling, his use of the word card instead of key.
"The side door is unlocked, Dad. That's the way you came out."
He looked at me in disbelief.
"It's okay, Dad. We understand", I said.
"Understand what", he replied, almost offended that we didn't buy his explanation.
"You just forgot, it's okay."
"I didn't forget", he mumbled indignantly.
He climbed the stairs shakily and crossed the back porch. We waived and honked as usual and drove around the corner into the neighborhood street. Again, Mike walked back to see if Dad had gone inside.
"Okay", he reported, wind still blowing through the connection, "He's not outside and the light is off. You can't turn out the lights from the outside, right? He must be inside."
Satisfied Dad was safely in the house we went home...but the incident continued to haunt me. I decided to write an email blast to all the caregivers relating what had happened and asking who was the last person there and what time they had left. I was really hoping that when we had arrived and he was in the driveway perhaps we had just missed someone and he had not been out there long. Responses were immediate.
Paula: "Well , damn! Maybe exercising him by walking around the driveway isn't such a good idea after all."
Hillary: "I'm no longer walking him out
front around the circle, in fact, backyard only from this point forward!
Thanks for the warning, very concerning, indeed.."
Bradley: "We left Grampa's house around 2:30 this afternoon. I put the kiddo in the
truck, then turned around and Grampa was standing right behind me. I
thought it was odd but I was glad to see that he made it all the way out
there no problem (he used to be right there when I would leave). Buddy
was not outside when we left so he must have gone back inside and then
come back out with Buddy at some point. That is concerning. Thanks for
the heads-up."
Then it struck me and I responded to all, "Maybe there is no intruder and the gardener isn't leaving the gate open. Maybe Dad is the one leaving it open".
There was no response. I expect that the possibility might have been pretty scary and no one knew quite what to say. This would take some thought.
Mike and I again discussed something that we had talked about before: calling a family meeting to discuss dad's condition, it's effect on our daily lives and the need to bring in outside help.
I composed an email:
Hi guys,
I am requesting a "state of our Dad" meeting to make sure we are all in the know about what is going on, his prognosis and the care plan going forward. It is important that we all be in the loop and have a say in decisions that effect our daily lives.
Let's come up with a time and place to discuss.
Thanks. Love you all,
Erin
I bounced it off of Tom first to see what he thought. I knew Tom also believed, like me, that it was time to explore home care options. Tom agreed with the message and I sent it to both sisters, my nephew and his wife. At first the message was not well received by one caregiver who thought the ulterior motive was to discuss putting Dad in a home (no names here, everyone is entitled to a certain amount of natural reaction to proposed changes). After much discussion and reassurance that this was not on the agenda at all, a place and time was set for a family "summit meeting". There would be two weeks to prepare. We all had topics we wanted covered so that time was spent doing our homework.
To be continued...
Mike and I again discussed something that we had talked about before: calling a family meeting to discuss dad's condition, it's effect on our daily lives and the need to bring in outside help.
I composed an email:
Hi guys,
I am requesting a "state of our Dad" meeting to make sure we are all in the know about what is going on, his prognosis and the care plan going forward. It is important that we all be in the loop and have a say in decisions that effect our daily lives.
Let's come up with a time and place to discuss.
Thanks. Love you all,
Erin
I bounced it off of Tom first to see what he thought. I knew Tom also believed, like me, that it was time to explore home care options. Tom agreed with the message and I sent it to both sisters, my nephew and his wife. At first the message was not well received by one caregiver who thought the ulterior motive was to discuss putting Dad in a home (no names here, everyone is entitled to a certain amount of natural reaction to proposed changes). After much discussion and reassurance that this was not on the agenda at all, a place and time was set for a family "summit meeting". There would be two weeks to prepare. We all had topics we wanted covered so that time was spent doing our homework.
To be continued...
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Tom's Crash Course in Shower 101
Up until now I have been the only one who has consistently been able to
get Dad to take a shower on a weekly basis. I know all his tricks and
have committed to one shower a week but sometimes it's still a
struggle. He is still gleefully defiant when I tell him he needs to take
a shower, smiling and saying "NO!!" to my face, thinking he can get me
to back down.
A couple of weeks ago Hillary was still there when I arrived for my shower night visit. There have been problems with the toilet in one of the bathrooms backing up and, with it being a bathroom Dad tends to use frequently, it needed to be dealt with right away. Dad was standing in the door of the bathroom talking to Hillary as I walked in.
"Oh good! You're already up", I said. "Guess what day it is! Shower day!"
"I'll do it later", he replied.
"No you won't", I said, "You'll take one now".
We both made our way from the door through the kitchen and started to cross the living room when I realized he was making a B-line for his recliner. I jumped in front of him and spun his chair around backward to cut him off from his goal.
"Dad, you're not sitting down now, you're taking a shower"
"NO!" he said with a smile, daring me to contradict him.
"Yes, Dad, you are taking a shower", I insisted.
"NO!" he said with a smile of delighted resistance.
I knew this argument could continue indefinitely if I didn't change my approach.
"Dad, you have to take a shower", I said lowering my voice and holding him by the shoulders. "You haven't showered in a week."
"I beg your pardon, yes, I have!" he replied, clearly insulted.
"No, you have not", I shot back, "Do you know how I know?" I poked him in the chest with one finger, "I picked out that shirt and that t-shirt for you last week."
He finally gave in. I have noticed that he is particularly resistant when other people are around. That is why I prefer to have Mike and the kids hide if they accompany me on shower night.
Dad is having a harder and harder time getting around. On shower nights I usually will observe any cuts, scratches or edema in is legs, feet and ankles and if anything looks worrisome I will take pictures and send them to my siblings. His ankles and feet have been swelling a lot lately and since I am the only one up until now who sees him mostly undressed on a weekly basis, I am most likely to notice a problem and alert the others.
That said, Dad has been picking at the same series of scabs on his shin for months now and they are not going away. Actually, they appear to be getting worse. On the last two shower nights I have noticed, aside from the usual edema, purple feet and worsening scratches on his legs he also had large white patches on the soles of his feet. I sent pictures to my siblings and asked their opinions. We unanimously agreed that we needed to step up his hygiene quite a bit. I suggested that each of us commit to one shower a week effective immediately. Everyone agreed and my brother, Tom, committed to Monday nights specifically.
I knew that he would need a lot of information to be successful so Monday morning I sent him several long texts with instructions and additional tips to increase his odds of success:
"Are you stuck?" I asked, thinking Dad had already managed to stonewall him.
"No, I'm goin' in!" he said jokingly like a man entering a warzone. "Any last things I should know?"
Pleasantly surprised I said, "Take the dirties out of the room as soon as they are off. If you don't, he might try to put them back on when leave the room."
"Okay. Where should his uniform be?"
"On the bed so he can see it but far enough away that he can't reach it", I instructed.
"Okay, good", he said.
I was glad to hear him so enthusiastic and wondered if Dad would give him a hard time or if it would be easier for Tom, being a guy. I waited for word...and it wasn't long before I got a text.
"He's in the shower!" it read.
"Wow! That's great, Tom!" I responded, genuinely impressed. His response was priceless.
"I feel like I just negotiated a major peace treaty! Thank you times a thousand!!"
"It does feel good, doesn't it? :)", I responded.
"How about the clothes?", he asked, "What should I do with them?"
"Throw them in the shower with him!" I joked.
"Lol!"
"Just wash the briefs and towels separately from the rest", I said, impressed that he would take on the laundry as well. "Thanks for following through!"
"Thank you! Love you, li'l sis."
"Love you, too, bro!"
To be continued....
A couple of weeks ago Hillary was still there when I arrived for my shower night visit. There have been problems with the toilet in one of the bathrooms backing up and, with it being a bathroom Dad tends to use frequently, it needed to be dealt with right away. Dad was standing in the door of the bathroom talking to Hillary as I walked in.
"Oh good! You're already up", I said. "Guess what day it is! Shower day!"
"I'll do it later", he replied.
"No you won't", I said, "You'll take one now".
We both made our way from the door through the kitchen and started to cross the living room when I realized he was making a B-line for his recliner. I jumped in front of him and spun his chair around backward to cut him off from his goal.
"Dad, you're not sitting down now, you're taking a shower"
"NO!" he said with a smile, daring me to contradict him.
"Yes, Dad, you are taking a shower", I insisted.
"NO!" he said with a smile of delighted resistance.
I knew this argument could continue indefinitely if I didn't change my approach.
"Dad, you have to take a shower", I said lowering my voice and holding him by the shoulders. "You haven't showered in a week."
"I beg your pardon, yes, I have!" he replied, clearly insulted.
"No, you have not", I shot back, "Do you know how I know?" I poked him in the chest with one finger, "I picked out that shirt and that t-shirt for you last week."
He finally gave in. I have noticed that he is particularly resistant when other people are around. That is why I prefer to have Mike and the kids hide if they accompany me on shower night.
Dad is having a harder and harder time getting around. On shower nights I usually will observe any cuts, scratches or edema in is legs, feet and ankles and if anything looks worrisome I will take pictures and send them to my siblings. His ankles and feet have been swelling a lot lately and since I am the only one up until now who sees him mostly undressed on a weekly basis, I am most likely to notice a problem and alert the others.
That said, Dad has been picking at the same series of scabs on his shin for months now and they are not going away. Actually, they appear to be getting worse. On the last two shower nights I have noticed, aside from the usual edema, purple feet and worsening scratches on his legs he also had large white patches on the soles of his feet. I sent pictures to my siblings and asked their opinions. We unanimously agreed that we needed to step up his hygiene quite a bit. I suggested that each of us commit to one shower a week effective immediately. Everyone agreed and my brother, Tom, committed to Monday nights specifically.
I knew that he would need a lot of information to be successful so Monday morning I sent him several long texts with instructions and additional tips to increase his odds of success:
- Make sure he is standing and away from his chair before announcing it's shower night.
- Have his "uniform" on the bed before he undresses so he knows you know what he needs. The uniform includes clean briefs, undershirt, socks, hanky, overshirt and jeans.
- Check the pockets of his dirty clothes for wallet, pens, hankies, glasses and toothpicks.
- Have the small standing towel rack positioned by the shower with two large towels.
- Put a hand towel on the floor of the shower to prevent slipping.
- Make sure soap-on-a-rope, wash cloth and scrub brush are sitting on his shower chair and shampoo is beside it.
- Pre-warm the water for him once he has undressed.
- Don't leave him to do his thing until he has given you everything but his briefs (he may keep his briefs and his dignity but everything else is going in the wash). Put them in the washer but do not start the wash until he finishes showering.
- Leave the room for a moment when he is walking in to the bathroom but come back after a few seconds and check that he is really getting in. He has tried to fake us out before by just wetting his hair.
- Once he is in, check on him every so often to make sure he is really washing.
- After he is out, you can start in the washer.
- Wash briefs and towels separately with plenty of bleach. (Truthfully, I did not expect Tom to do the wash at all. I figured his hands would be too full just trying to get Dad to cooperate.)
"Are you stuck?" I asked, thinking Dad had already managed to stonewall him.
"No, I'm goin' in!" he said jokingly like a man entering a warzone. "Any last things I should know?"
Pleasantly surprised I said, "Take the dirties out of the room as soon as they are off. If you don't, he might try to put them back on when leave the room."
"Okay. Where should his uniform be?"
"On the bed so he can see it but far enough away that he can't reach it", I instructed.
"Okay, good", he said.
I was glad to hear him so enthusiastic and wondered if Dad would give him a hard time or if it would be easier for Tom, being a guy. I waited for word...and it wasn't long before I got a text.
"He's in the shower!" it read.
"Wow! That's great, Tom!" I responded, genuinely impressed. His response was priceless.
"I feel like I just negotiated a major peace treaty! Thank you times a thousand!!"
"It does feel good, doesn't it? :)", I responded.
"How about the clothes?", he asked, "What should I do with them?"
"Throw them in the shower with him!" I joked.
"Lol!"
"Just wash the briefs and towels separately from the rest", I said, impressed that he would take on the laundry as well. "Thanks for following through!"
"Thank you! Love you, li'l sis."
"Love you, too, bro!"
To be continued....
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Walk like a duck...
Dad has become much more resistant to physical activity lately. Between visitors he spends much of his time sitting in his recliner and watching TV. No matter who is visiting, getting him out of his chair is a battle. Sometimes the only exercise he gets is letting Buddy out and answering natures call. His lack of exercise is causing loss of muscle conditioning.
Because of this, pie-for-shower night is becoming more of a challenge with each week that passes. He knows he needs to shower but just the exertion of getting out of his chair is so much that he starts arguing with me from the minute I say "Guess what night it is". The past three weeks have been progressively more difficult. Last week was so hard, in fact, I almost had to throw in the towel. I was particularly exhausted, having just completed a week of school projects with Allison and a larger than usual work load at the office and was in no mood to deal with his resistance to basic hygiene.
"Come on, Dad. It's not that hard and you get a pie if you do it", I pleaded.
"I'll do it in the morning", he dodged.
"No you won't, you haven't showered in a week".
"I beg your pardon, I shower every morning", he said angrily.
"No, you don't and I can prove it", I shot back.
"How?"
"You are wearing the outfit I chose for you last Saturday", I replied, "Please don't make this hard for me".
The argument went on and on until he was almost ready to throw me out...except he realized that would require him to get up. Eventually he realized I was just slightly more stubborn than he and gave in. After that I knew I would have to change my approach.
Yesterday I went in with a plan...
Arriving with my frozen pie, I set it on the kitchen table and yelled, "Dad, come in here!! You've got to see this!!"
"What?" he yelled back.
"Hurry, Dad this is so cool!!"
"Okay, okay...just a second... gimme a sec..." he said slowly hoisting himself out of his chair and shuffling into the kitchen.
"Come on! It's really cool..." I said as he entered the kitchen, "Actually it's frozen", I said pointing to the pie, "but I will put it in the oven as soon as you get in the shower". It's a good thing for me he has a certain respect for a well executed practical joke because that could have gone over very badly. As it was, he fussed a bit about being tricked into getting up but it was the easiest shower he has had in a while.
After he was dressed and made his way out of the bedroom I noticed him start to lose his balance a few times. Although his loss of muscular coordination is threatening to be dangerous, he refuses to use his walker. Paula wants us all to take him for a short walk around the yard each visit whenever possible. This will be difficult for all of us, particularly when he objects so much to even getting up. Since the time Dad fell backward when he and I started to descend the stairs of his back porch a couple of months ago I have been reluctant to take a walk with him unless Mike is there. Unfortunately, for his health and partial independence we must press him to walk... so it means I can't take him to the back yard but must instead walk him around his large, circular driveway.
After we ate dinner I said, "Dad, let's take a walk before we dig into the pie".
"Why?" he demanded, as usual.
"Because you are losing muscle strength sitting in that chair all day. You need to move your legs."
He let out an exasperated sigh, muttered something and then grudgingly complied.
It was cold out for our part of Texas and I put a large puffy coat on him before we went out and, grabbing his walker as a precaution, followed him. I knew he wouldn't want to use it but under the circumstances it was a necessary safeguard.
He shuffled slowly along, every step a major effort. I kicked a few fallen sticks out of his path and watched him for any moments of imbalance. He punctuated each minute with "God it's cold out!!"
Sometimes I got a little bit ahead of him and would stop and let him catch up. It reminded me of something Dad had told me about a long time ago, so I decided to try to jog his memory.
"Dad, do you remember when you told me about the two ducks that kept waddling across your yard in the middle of the day to swim in the neighbor's pool?"
"No, did they really?" he asked.
"Yeah, you said the female was probably carrying eggs because she was getting bigger with each walk. You said the male was so patient, waiting for her to catch up when she fell behind, standing by her when she would sit down to rest a minute".
Dad laughed. "Carrying eggs?"
"Yes, and you said you could imagine her complaining as she waddled along 'My feet hurt! You did this to me! And I'm FAT!'"
He laughed again, "Yes, that sounds about right". I doubt he missed the point but am sure he decided to ignore that he was the fat, pregnant duck in this scenario.
The story took just long enough to get us to the front door. We went in to enjoy our pie.
I know there will be more walks like this and I will probably tell him more stories to get him through it, pausing occasionally to let him catch up. I guess I will need to learn to be as patient as a duck.
To be continued....
Because of this, pie-for-shower night is becoming more of a challenge with each week that passes. He knows he needs to shower but just the exertion of getting out of his chair is so much that he starts arguing with me from the minute I say "Guess what night it is". The past three weeks have been progressively more difficult. Last week was so hard, in fact, I almost had to throw in the towel. I was particularly exhausted, having just completed a week of school projects with Allison and a larger than usual work load at the office and was in no mood to deal with his resistance to basic hygiene.
"Come on, Dad. It's not that hard and you get a pie if you do it", I pleaded.
"I'll do it in the morning", he dodged.
"No you won't, you haven't showered in a week".
"I beg your pardon, I shower every morning", he said angrily.
"No, you don't and I can prove it", I shot back.
"How?"
"You are wearing the outfit I chose for you last Saturday", I replied, "Please don't make this hard for me".
The argument went on and on until he was almost ready to throw me out...except he realized that would require him to get up. Eventually he realized I was just slightly more stubborn than he and gave in. After that I knew I would have to change my approach.
Yesterday I went in with a plan...
Arriving with my frozen pie, I set it on the kitchen table and yelled, "Dad, come in here!! You've got to see this!!"
"What?" he yelled back.
"Hurry, Dad this is so cool!!"
"Okay, okay...just a second... gimme a sec..." he said slowly hoisting himself out of his chair and shuffling into the kitchen.
"Come on! It's really cool..." I said as he entered the kitchen, "Actually it's frozen", I said pointing to the pie, "but I will put it in the oven as soon as you get in the shower". It's a good thing for me he has a certain respect for a well executed practical joke because that could have gone over very badly. As it was, he fussed a bit about being tricked into getting up but it was the easiest shower he has had in a while.
After he was dressed and made his way out of the bedroom I noticed him start to lose his balance a few times. Although his loss of muscular coordination is threatening to be dangerous, he refuses to use his walker. Paula wants us all to take him for a short walk around the yard each visit whenever possible. This will be difficult for all of us, particularly when he objects so much to even getting up. Since the time Dad fell backward when he and I started to descend the stairs of his back porch a couple of months ago I have been reluctant to take a walk with him unless Mike is there. Unfortunately, for his health and partial independence we must press him to walk... so it means I can't take him to the back yard but must instead walk him around his large, circular driveway.
After we ate dinner I said, "Dad, let's take a walk before we dig into the pie".
"Why?" he demanded, as usual.
"Because you are losing muscle strength sitting in that chair all day. You need to move your legs."
He let out an exasperated sigh, muttered something and then grudgingly complied.
It was cold out for our part of Texas and I put a large puffy coat on him before we went out and, grabbing his walker as a precaution, followed him. I knew he wouldn't want to use it but under the circumstances it was a necessary safeguard.
He shuffled slowly along, every step a major effort. I kicked a few fallen sticks out of his path and watched him for any moments of imbalance. He punctuated each minute with "God it's cold out!!"
Sometimes I got a little bit ahead of him and would stop and let him catch up. It reminded me of something Dad had told me about a long time ago, so I decided to try to jog his memory.
"Dad, do you remember when you told me about the two ducks that kept waddling across your yard in the middle of the day to swim in the neighbor's pool?"
"No, did they really?" he asked.
"Yeah, you said the female was probably carrying eggs because she was getting bigger with each walk. You said the male was so patient, waiting for her to catch up when she fell behind, standing by her when she would sit down to rest a minute".
Dad laughed. "Carrying eggs?"
"Yes, and you said you could imagine her complaining as she waddled along 'My feet hurt! You did this to me! And I'm FAT!'"
He laughed again, "Yes, that sounds about right". I doubt he missed the point but am sure he decided to ignore that he was the fat, pregnant duck in this scenario.
The story took just long enough to get us to the front door. We went in to enjoy our pie.
I know there will be more walks like this and I will probably tell him more stories to get him through it, pausing occasionally to let him catch up. I guess I will need to learn to be as patient as a duck.
To be continued....
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Short sabbatical...
Just a post to let my readers know I have been on a short involuntary sabbatical...I have had no internet for the past three weeks. The problem was resolved yesterday (I switched providers) and the blog will resume in the next few days.
Have a great day!
~Erin
Have a great day!
~Erin
Friday, January 31, 2014
Another grooming difficulty...but it's a fun one
Allison came with me. We watched the Avengers and all three of us were cutting up throughout the movie. It was a lot of fun and was a great time for a little practical joke. As Allison and I were leaving I said, "Hey, Dad! I forgot to tell you I found a picture of you on the internet today", and pulled up this picture on my phone:
All three of us laughed. "Ole Abe, huh?" he said with a chuckle, "How'd you get to be such a wise ass?"
"I learned from the best", I told him.
It was a great visit!
To be continued...
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Window into his world...
There are two questions that have kept me preoccupied lately: Who's there? and How's your father? You wouldn't think these two seemingly unrelated questions would take up much space in my mind. For me, though, these two questions are directly related. In fact, the first question kind of answers the second.
Any time I go visit friends or my in-laws, I am usually asked "How's your father?" I know it is concern and love that prompt this question and am not upset by it. That said, I am never sure how to respond. A truthful response would be a major downer to start a social visit. On the other hand saying "He's doing great" would be an outright lie and would likely prompt more questions. A few months ago I began responding by simply smiling and saying "He has Alzheimer's". In other words, "It is kind of you to ask. He has an incurable brain disease and if you really want to hear more I will tell you, but be prepared that he has not made a miraculous recovery".
There is some irony to that repeated question. In a way it is like the loops that dad experiences, making the same statements and repeating the same questions over and over. The little devil on my shoulder almost had me convinced to start changing my answers to the question "How is your father?" in the same way I did when Dad would get caught in a question loop.
Answer 1: "He's decided to take up base jumping"
Answer 2: (gasp!) "Oh no! I left him at the zoo!"
Answer 3: "He's fine. He's in the car."
I know, that wouldn't be nice and I'd never do it...but it's entertaining to think of new answers. Really the only appropriate response without going into detail is to say he is comfortable and well cared for, followed by, "Thank you for caring".
Up until a month ago, although he had stopped calling me by name, he still recognized me...but more things started fading. Hillary showed him a photo album in November. She told me he didn't recognize Mom, his parents, his brothers, and, although our names were familiar, he wasn't clear on the pictures of his children either. The one exception was Tom. When she showed him Tom's picture and asked if he remembered who it was, his response was remarkable.
"Well, he looks like me so that must be my son", he replied. Hillary and I were encouraged, feeling that this was a good sign. He was still capable of deductive reasoning. Sadly, disappointment was around the corner.
When you were growing up, how many "Knock! Knock!" jokes do you think you heard? Dozens...hundreds, maybe? They all start the same with the hopes of eliciting a laugh, a smile or at least a good humored groan....But when "Who's there?" is asked seriously by someone who is looking right at you, smiling can be difficult. Dad stopped calling me Erin about a year ago. In that time he has only called me by name once without prompting. Instead he has been calling me "the little kid". A few weeks ago he stopped calling me that. Now when I walk into the room he looks at me and says, "Who's there?"
"It's Erin", I announce with a hopeful smile, but I can tell it's not ringing any bells.
"Erin!" he says brightly, trying to hide that he is stumped.
As the evening goes on and I run around making dinner, folding laundry, getting him to take a shower, or whatever else needs to be done, he eventually gives in and asks for a clue.
"Are you one of my kids?" he demands in an irritated voice that implies a sarcastic, "Can I buy a vowel??"
This question is easier to take because the fact that he has included me with the other "kids" indicates they are probably getting the same question from time to time.
"Yes, I'm the one who looks just like your mother, only I'm blonde!"
"Well, that explains a lot!" he replies with a chuckle. At least he still has his sense of humor.
It's better to help him tolerate whatever new situations develop with a smile. Dad has been so used to knowing more than everyone in the room that having Alzheimer's must feel like the walls are closing in on him. With each day he wakes up with fewer and fewer facts and a growing number of question marks. One day he will probably wake up surrounded by nothing but question marks. How frightening it must be to witness his world shrinking around him. His comfort rests in the fact that he is surrounded by those who love him. Even if he can't quite remember names or how he knows each of us, he is aware that all of our faces are familiar and he is grateful for the familiarity. The one positive thing I can say about Dad's condition is ultimately the most important thing: Dad is happy. He may be frustrated by his symptoms and limitations but, even on a bad day, he is rarely without a smile and never without a hug for all of his visitors...and at the end of the evening he still remembers to ask for "one ringy dingy" on the phone to let him know we have made it home safely.
When I start to lose hope, something always happens to snap me back. Most recently it was a text from Paula:
"I got Dad to shave today (not a very good job, but I told him he looked so handsome.) Dad and I walked around the backyard. We talked about raising kids and discipline. He told me the most effective child raising is done with praise vs disappointment, :)."
He's still teaching us. Dad is still in there somewhere, being a father and guiding his children as best he can...still setting a good example.
To be continued....
Any time I go visit friends or my in-laws, I am usually asked "How's your father?" I know it is concern and love that prompt this question and am not upset by it. That said, I am never sure how to respond. A truthful response would be a major downer to start a social visit. On the other hand saying "He's doing great" would be an outright lie and would likely prompt more questions. A few months ago I began responding by simply smiling and saying "He has Alzheimer's". In other words, "It is kind of you to ask. He has an incurable brain disease and if you really want to hear more I will tell you, but be prepared that he has not made a miraculous recovery".
There is some irony to that repeated question. In a way it is like the loops that dad experiences, making the same statements and repeating the same questions over and over. The little devil on my shoulder almost had me convinced to start changing my answers to the question "How is your father?" in the same way I did when Dad would get caught in a question loop.
Answer 1: "He's decided to take up base jumping"
Answer 2: (gasp!) "Oh no! I left him at the zoo!"
Answer 3: "He's fine. He's in the car."
I know, that wouldn't be nice and I'd never do it...but it's entertaining to think of new answers. Really the only appropriate response without going into detail is to say he is comfortable and well cared for, followed by, "Thank you for caring".
Up until a month ago, although he had stopped calling me by name, he still recognized me...but more things started fading. Hillary showed him a photo album in November. She told me he didn't recognize Mom, his parents, his brothers, and, although our names were familiar, he wasn't clear on the pictures of his children either. The one exception was Tom. When she showed him Tom's picture and asked if he remembered who it was, his response was remarkable.
"Well, he looks like me so that must be my son", he replied. Hillary and I were encouraged, feeling that this was a good sign. He was still capable of deductive reasoning. Sadly, disappointment was around the corner.
When you were growing up, how many "Knock! Knock!" jokes do you think you heard? Dozens...hundreds, maybe? They all start the same with the hopes of eliciting a laugh, a smile or at least a good humored groan....But when "Who's there?" is asked seriously by someone who is looking right at you, smiling can be difficult. Dad stopped calling me Erin about a year ago. In that time he has only called me by name once without prompting. Instead he has been calling me "the little kid". A few weeks ago he stopped calling me that. Now when I walk into the room he looks at me and says, "Who's there?"
"It's Erin", I announce with a hopeful smile, but I can tell it's not ringing any bells.
"Erin!" he says brightly, trying to hide that he is stumped.
As the evening goes on and I run around making dinner, folding laundry, getting him to take a shower, or whatever else needs to be done, he eventually gives in and asks for a clue.
"Are you one of my kids?" he demands in an irritated voice that implies a sarcastic, "Can I buy a vowel??"
This question is easier to take because the fact that he has included me with the other "kids" indicates they are probably getting the same question from time to time.
"Yes, I'm the one who looks just like your mother, only I'm blonde!"
"Well, that explains a lot!" he replies with a chuckle. At least he still has his sense of humor.
It's better to help him tolerate whatever new situations develop with a smile. Dad has been so used to knowing more than everyone in the room that having Alzheimer's must feel like the walls are closing in on him. With each day he wakes up with fewer and fewer facts and a growing number of question marks. One day he will probably wake up surrounded by nothing but question marks. How frightening it must be to witness his world shrinking around him. His comfort rests in the fact that he is surrounded by those who love him. Even if he can't quite remember names or how he knows each of us, he is aware that all of our faces are familiar and he is grateful for the familiarity. The one positive thing I can say about Dad's condition is ultimately the most important thing: Dad is happy. He may be frustrated by his symptoms and limitations but, even on a bad day, he is rarely without a smile and never without a hug for all of his visitors...and at the end of the evening he still remembers to ask for "one ringy dingy" on the phone to let him know we have made it home safely.
When I start to lose hope, something always happens to snap me back. Most recently it was a text from Paula:
"I got Dad to shave today (not a very good job, but I told him he looked so handsome.) Dad and I walked around the backyard. We talked about raising kids and discipline. He told me the most effective child raising is done with praise vs disappointment, :)."
He's still teaching us. Dad is still in there somewhere, being a father and guiding his children as best he can...still setting a good example.
To be continued....
Sunday, January 5, 2014
It goes without saying...
The holidays have come and gone and with their end we have all come to the conclusion that Dad has lost a lot of ground physically over the season.
About a week before Christmas I was visiting Dad; it was just a day after the successful shower night ending with him sleeping with his feet up in his own bed. I began the visit as usual, greeting Buddy, preparing dinner, promising desert after a walk. We finished dinner and went outside. Mike had observed the night before that Dad seemed pretty weak and unsteady on his feet. Although Mike was not with me this particular evening and I agreed with his assessment, I decided to attempt the walk anyway. We began to descend the back porch. Dad took one step down, lost his balance and fell on his back. Although he didn't fall hard nor did he hit his head, I could tell the fall had hurt. I knelt beside him, put my hand on his chest and said, "Dad! Are you okay? Do I need to call anyone?" terrified I would have to call 911.
"No. I'm okay. Just give me a minute." This was a difficult and some what scary situation. With my back problems I couldn't support Dad to help him up. The situation called for improvisation. I looked around and saw a large bucket. I turned it upside down and said, "Dad, use this bucket for leverage to help you sit up". He did as I told him and gradually we got him back on his feet. Later when I was putting in his eye drops, I noticed blood in his eye under his lower lid and worried it was from the fall. I remembered Hillary saying that she would be taking him to the eye doctor that day and sent her a message asking if she knew about the blood in his eye. She confirmed he had an injection to his eye earlier that day that caused the bleed, not the fall. I related the story to Paula and Mike as well. Mike suggested that we add a rail to the back porch to prevent such occurrences. Paula and Hillary agreed. I knew not only was the walk out of the question but that I should no longer attempt it unless Mike was there to help.
I have not written in a while because I have been sick since Christmas day and have only had a reasonable amount of energy for about two days. Mike has been my right arm for the past two weeks, coming to my aid for Dad shifts at a moment's notice. I don't know if I would have been able to handle last Thursday without him.
Still recovering from my illness, as I was driving to Dad's house I began to psych myself up, preparing myself for "Pie for Shower" night. In my head I went through my routine, sounding a little like an auctioneer, "I have here a BEAUTIFUL Dutch apple pie! This here pie is fresh out of the oven just the way mom used to make. Let's start the bidding at ONE SHOWER! Do I hear one shower, I have a bid for one shower! Do I hear another bid?? Going ONCE...Going TWICE...SOLD to the man with the oily hair for ONE SHOWER!!" That was how it went in my head...and God laughed.
As soon as I walked through the carport entry I knew the evening would be very different from my plans. It was the second time I had walked through that very door and been hit in the face with a foul odor. I peeked into the side bathroom and, just as I feared, saw that Dad was suffering from severe diarrhea. His jeans, belt and briefs were on the floor, all coated with feces. It was apparent that Dad had tried to clean up the mess around the toilet but had been unsuccessful. I followed the trail back to his bedroom and into his bathroom where dad was standing in a flannel shirt, under shirt and socks with a pair of clean briefs in hand (I was grateful for his slumped posture). He was very weak and shaking. Poor guy.
"Dad, let me help you", I began, gently taking the briefs out of his hand. "You are obviously having some bowel problems".
"You think??" he laughed helplessly.
"Dad, you can't put these briefs on. You need to really clean off. It's running down the back of your leg. How about we get you in the shower right now?" I urged.
"Okay", he said, "Just let me sit and rest for a minute", as he shuffled into the bedroom.
"NOOO!" I thought panicking, "Don't sit on the..." plop "...bed". He sat there on the edge of the bed as, in my mind, I added another hour for laundry to my visit.
I went into the bathroom, started the shower and prepped the area for him. When I came back to the bed and helped him up there was a large smear underneath him. This was going to be a very long night. Dad lacked the energy to order me out as I insisted on taking his soiled clothing before leaving the bathroom. Poor Dad was so weak. "Don't worry, Dad. Your shower chair is in there. You rest there as long as you need to. I will go put the pie in the oven".
First order of business was to bring in reinforcements. I called Mike and explained the situation. He came over right away. His job was to keep Dad distracted while I handled clean up. I stripped the bed while dinner was cooking. When Dad came out of the shower, I started the first load of laundry. After he emerged from the bedroom we ate dinner and then Mike got him to his recliner to watch Jurassic Park. I went back to the laundry room and used the utility sink to clean Dad's belt. As I was spraying it off I lost my grip on the spray nozzle and shot myself the chest. It was quite a hook shot because somehow it curved around inside my shirt and soaked my lower back. Mike heard me laughing from the other room. At this point the absurdity of the situation was starting to amuse me.
Although I have found on other shower nights that his briefs were unusually soiled, I had been unaware he had a frequent diarrhea problem. After sending a text to Paula about what was happening she related that she, too, had fished some diarrhea soiled jeans and briefs out of a hidden laundry bin. It was oddly comforting to know I wasn't the only one in the family who had to deal with this.
Next, I went back to the bedroom to see what other surprises awaited me. On his bed I found a soiled towel and sheets that needed changing. I picked up the towel only to realize a second too late that I was clutching the most soiled part. Ugh! Okay, par for the course, I started another load.
After washing my hands I came out and joined Mike and Dad, and slumped in a chair. They were at the part of the movie when Laura Dern puts her whole arm in a giant pile of dinosaur droppings. The irony made me laugh. "Honey, I feel your pain", I thought, "I had my hand in dinosaur poop tonight, too".
Pie came out of the oven as usual. Dad certainly deserved his pie tonight. What a tough day!
Mike joined me in the kitchen to help clean up. I looked at him, exhausted, and said, "What a night. You know, what amazes me is that some people actually choose to do this for a living".
Mike's response was insightful. "You know, it goes without saying that we all honor our firefighters, police and military personnel. You see posts about them on Facebook every day...but, as hard as this night is, there are people who do this every day for strangers. Where are their honors?" Very profound. We do it for Dad because we love him, but there are people who have made it their life's work to go into the trenches of hospice, dementia and elderly care. What kind of person makes that kind of commitment to humanity? What must that person be made of to care for total strangers in such an intimate way?
These are the unsung heros of our society. They don't look for praise or laurels for their devotion to others. These amazing people do it by choice, knowing that they will not be widly recognized for their efforts. If you ask one of these professional caregivers I am sure their reasons for choosing a life of service would be different but ultimately their feelings about their job would be similar: that it is fulfilling to know that they are making a difference.
It goes without saying that these are rare individuals. I wish there was a special day to honor these human angels of mercy that walk among us, unseen, unrecognized. There should be a day of respect just for them.
To be continued....
About a week before Christmas I was visiting Dad; it was just a day after the successful shower night ending with him sleeping with his feet up in his own bed. I began the visit as usual, greeting Buddy, preparing dinner, promising desert after a walk. We finished dinner and went outside. Mike had observed the night before that Dad seemed pretty weak and unsteady on his feet. Although Mike was not with me this particular evening and I agreed with his assessment, I decided to attempt the walk anyway. We began to descend the back porch. Dad took one step down, lost his balance and fell on his back. Although he didn't fall hard nor did he hit his head, I could tell the fall had hurt. I knelt beside him, put my hand on his chest and said, "Dad! Are you okay? Do I need to call anyone?" terrified I would have to call 911.
"No. I'm okay. Just give me a minute." This was a difficult and some what scary situation. With my back problems I couldn't support Dad to help him up. The situation called for improvisation. I looked around and saw a large bucket. I turned it upside down and said, "Dad, use this bucket for leverage to help you sit up". He did as I told him and gradually we got him back on his feet. Later when I was putting in his eye drops, I noticed blood in his eye under his lower lid and worried it was from the fall. I remembered Hillary saying that she would be taking him to the eye doctor that day and sent her a message asking if she knew about the blood in his eye. She confirmed he had an injection to his eye earlier that day that caused the bleed, not the fall. I related the story to Paula and Mike as well. Mike suggested that we add a rail to the back porch to prevent such occurrences. Paula and Hillary agreed. I knew not only was the walk out of the question but that I should no longer attempt it unless Mike was there to help.
I have not written in a while because I have been sick since Christmas day and have only had a reasonable amount of energy for about two days. Mike has been my right arm for the past two weeks, coming to my aid for Dad shifts at a moment's notice. I don't know if I would have been able to handle last Thursday without him.
Still recovering from my illness, as I was driving to Dad's house I began to psych myself up, preparing myself for "Pie for Shower" night. In my head I went through my routine, sounding a little like an auctioneer, "I have here a BEAUTIFUL Dutch apple pie! This here pie is fresh out of the oven just the way mom used to make. Let's start the bidding at ONE SHOWER! Do I hear one shower, I have a bid for one shower! Do I hear another bid?? Going ONCE...Going TWICE...SOLD to the man with the oily hair for ONE SHOWER!!" That was how it went in my head...and God laughed.
As soon as I walked through the carport entry I knew the evening would be very different from my plans. It was the second time I had walked through that very door and been hit in the face with a foul odor. I peeked into the side bathroom and, just as I feared, saw that Dad was suffering from severe diarrhea. His jeans, belt and briefs were on the floor, all coated with feces. It was apparent that Dad had tried to clean up the mess around the toilet but had been unsuccessful. I followed the trail back to his bedroom and into his bathroom where dad was standing in a flannel shirt, under shirt and socks with a pair of clean briefs in hand (I was grateful for his slumped posture). He was very weak and shaking. Poor guy.
"Dad, let me help you", I began, gently taking the briefs out of his hand. "You are obviously having some bowel problems".
"You think??" he laughed helplessly.
"Dad, you can't put these briefs on. You need to really clean off. It's running down the back of your leg. How about we get you in the shower right now?" I urged.
"Okay", he said, "Just let me sit and rest for a minute", as he shuffled into the bedroom.
"NOOO!" I thought panicking, "Don't sit on the..." plop "...bed". He sat there on the edge of the bed as, in my mind, I added another hour for laundry to my visit.
I went into the bathroom, started the shower and prepped the area for him. When I came back to the bed and helped him up there was a large smear underneath him. This was going to be a very long night. Dad lacked the energy to order me out as I insisted on taking his soiled clothing before leaving the bathroom. Poor Dad was so weak. "Don't worry, Dad. Your shower chair is in there. You rest there as long as you need to. I will go put the pie in the oven".
First order of business was to bring in reinforcements. I called Mike and explained the situation. He came over right away. His job was to keep Dad distracted while I handled clean up. I stripped the bed while dinner was cooking. When Dad came out of the shower, I started the first load of laundry. After he emerged from the bedroom we ate dinner and then Mike got him to his recliner to watch Jurassic Park. I went back to the laundry room and used the utility sink to clean Dad's belt. As I was spraying it off I lost my grip on the spray nozzle and shot myself the chest. It was quite a hook shot because somehow it curved around inside my shirt and soaked my lower back. Mike heard me laughing from the other room. At this point the absurdity of the situation was starting to amuse me.
Although I have found on other shower nights that his briefs were unusually soiled, I had been unaware he had a frequent diarrhea problem. After sending a text to Paula about what was happening she related that she, too, had fished some diarrhea soiled jeans and briefs out of a hidden laundry bin. It was oddly comforting to know I wasn't the only one in the family who had to deal with this.
Next, I went back to the bedroom to see what other surprises awaited me. On his bed I found a soiled towel and sheets that needed changing. I picked up the towel only to realize a second too late that I was clutching the most soiled part. Ugh! Okay, par for the course, I started another load.
After washing my hands I came out and joined Mike and Dad, and slumped in a chair. They were at the part of the movie when Laura Dern puts her whole arm in a giant pile of dinosaur droppings. The irony made me laugh. "Honey, I feel your pain", I thought, "I had my hand in dinosaur poop tonight, too".
Pie came out of the oven as usual. Dad certainly deserved his pie tonight. What a tough day!
Mike joined me in the kitchen to help clean up. I looked at him, exhausted, and said, "What a night. You know, what amazes me is that some people actually choose to do this for a living".
Mike's response was insightful. "You know, it goes without saying that we all honor our firefighters, police and military personnel. You see posts about them on Facebook every day...but, as hard as this night is, there are people who do this every day for strangers. Where are their honors?" Very profound. We do it for Dad because we love him, but there are people who have made it their life's work to go into the trenches of hospice, dementia and elderly care. What kind of person makes that kind of commitment to humanity? What must that person be made of to care for total strangers in such an intimate way?
These are the unsung heros of our society. They don't look for praise or laurels for their devotion to others. These amazing people do it by choice, knowing that they will not be widly recognized for their efforts. If you ask one of these professional caregivers I am sure their reasons for choosing a life of service would be different but ultimately their feelings about their job would be similar: that it is fulfilling to know that they are making a difference.
It goes without saying that these are rare individuals. I wish there was a special day to honor these human angels of mercy that walk among us, unseen, unrecognized. There should be a day of respect just for them.
To be continued....
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
This year I resolve...
...to be more patient, to take a step back when I start to get frustrated. I will take a deep breath and begin again.
I resolve to look for the little things such as laundry, toothpick patrol, and bathroom checks to take some of the pressure off my fellow caregivers...and to never say "It's not my job" or leave a mess for the next person.
I commit myself to making sure that Dad has at least one shower a week during my time and to stand my ground and not allow him get around basic hygiene.
I will continue to look for the humor and levity that makes looking after Dad a little easier for both of us.
I will appreciate all that my sisters, brother, nephew and their spouses do to make Dad's life better. We are a team and every contributor is important and valued.
I will continue to reach out to others who may feel alone in their struggles as caregivers in the hope that there is strength in camaraderie and the sharing of stories, ideas, information and compassion.
I will remember that I am human and likely to stumble, become frustrated and want to escape...and I will try to forgive myself.
I will be grateful for my husband and daughters for all of their love and support...especially for Mike, who taught me that marriage is not 50%-50% or even 100%-100%. Marriage is 100%-0. In every marriage there are times you cannot give 100% and your partner carries you through it. Mike, you have carried me so often, giving your 100% when I could do nothing and you taught me the value of patience and humor in the face of despair. I promise to be your 100% when you are lost or need support. We can get through anything together.
Happy New Year to all my readers and friends!! May 2014 bring joy and hope to all of your lives!!
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