Archive | December 2015

Christmas Trip, Part 1

Mom and I are in Ohio, staying with her sister for the next week. We arrived late Saturday night after a long travel day: flight from Burbank to Phoenix, rushing through PHX with a wheelchair attendant to just make our 3.5-hour flight to Cleveland, then a 90-minute drive in my cousin’s car. Mom was perky the whole way, unconcerned about the tight connection or the turbulence for the first hour of the second flight, chatting happily with her nephew as we drove. I was dead on my feet exhausted as I helped her brush her teeth and get into her pajamas, and asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Yesterday I woke up before my body or brain were ready to function, worried about Mom waking up in an unfamiliar room and not knowing how to find the bathroom or her clean Depends. To my surprise, she was already up and sitting in an easy chair by the Christmas tree, working a crossword puzzle, completely comfortable. As I helped her get dressed, I asked if it had been disconcerting waking up in a strange room. She shrugged that off and told me “I’ve stayed in this room lots of times. It’s very familiar.”2015-12-20 14.35.57

We had a busy Sunday with lots of family dropping in and out all afternoon – drank too many cups of coffee and ate too many sweets – and Mom enjoyed every minute of it.

For the second night in a row, I slept as if sedated and had to drag myself out of bed to get Mom up. Being alert to her every need all day long takes it out of me. We were having cereal and coffee in the dining room when she looked at me and asked “Whose house is this?” I told her we are at Alice’s house and today is December 21, and she smiled happily. “It’s almost Christmas!”

Her feet were very swollen yesterday, likely from the long flights, so this morning I checked with her nurse and gave her a full 20 mg Lasix tablet instead of her usual half. She also had some digestive distress, which wasn’t fun for either of us since she didn’t make it to the bathroom on time. Luckily we have easy access to a washer and dryer. And nothing got messy that couldn’t be easily cleaned. I count that as a win. Also, thankfully, it passed quickly and she was soon feeling better. I’m also counting it as a win that I’ve remembered all four of her daily medication dosages on time for three days now. Better put reminders on my calendar in case I just jinxed myself by saying that.

I went out to run some errands with my aunt this afternoon and picked up some diabetic socks for Mom. Hopefully those will help with the swelling. I also picked up a bottle of Tylenol and a back pain patch for myself. I seem to have strained a muscle in my lower back, probably from bending over to roll a suitcase through the airport after the extendable handle came apart. It hurts to bend down or sit too long, and I feel like we’re quite the pair of frail old ladies right now… and all of this gives me a new level of respect for all the family caregivers out there who are coping with their own health challenges while caring for an elderly parent.

But it’s worth every minute of stress and aggravation, every twinge of aching muscles, to see her so happy and content here. And we haven’t even gotten to Christmas yet!

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No One

Yesterday was the annual holiday party at my mom’s care home. I stopped at the bank for crisp bills to put in the Christmas cards I was giving to the staff and arrived a few minutes late. Mom was sitting at a card table with two chairs, wearing a festive red top that was her Christmas gift from the owner of the facility. I kissed her hello and took the seat across from her. Looking around, I was happy to see that no one was sitting alone and each of the residents had at least one visitor with them at their table.

It’s a weird sort of party because the visitors never seem to talk to each other, just to the loved one they’ve come to visit and to the staff. But during dessert, a slightly built older woman approached our table while my mom was in the bathroom. “You’re Dorothy’s daughter, aren’t you?” I nodded and we introduced ourselves, shaking hands. “They tell me your mother is very kind to Jenny and talks to her. Thank you.” I shrugged off her thanks, telling her that my mom is very social and is happy to have someone to chat with.

The woman, who I initially guessed might be Jenny’s sister, shook her head sadly. “It’s so hard to see her like this. Jenny was always so well informed, and now…” She trailed off and I nodded sympathetically. It is hard. The woman went on to tell me that Jenny was a librarian for many years and, back in the 1970s, a labor organizer. “I was the head librarian,” she explained. “She worked for me for many years. After she retired, she worked part-time at the senior center until a couple of years ago.” She further explained that Jenny has no family except two brothers, one in Seattle and the other overseas.

I was touched that she had come to visit Jenny, to share the holiday party with her, despite her apparent discomfort with the dementia that has reduced her articulate, well-informed colleague to a state of childlike dependence. I was struck by, as hard as it is to deal with a parent or grandparent with dementia, how much harder must it be to see a PEER in that state. There but for the grace of God, and all that.

Later, as I was getting ready for my next holiday party, I kept thinking about Jenny who has no family around, no one to look out for her best interests. I don’t have kids, or a husband anymore, so this could well be me someday. It’s a sobering thought. I don’t know how Jenny ended up in this board and care, but I’m glad that she did because I know the staff, and I trust that she’s getting the same good care that my mom gets — even without a daughter to check up on her and advocate for her. Still, she must get lonely. When we get back from our holiday travels, I’m going to make a point to check on Jenny whenever I visit.

 

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Mom and me: Don’t we look festive?