Shout out! Hey Poconos!!!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
I'm so glad Mom met and lived with Frances. Frances was a real lady. She wasn't worldly wise or well traveled. She had a unique ability to perceive the other side of the story. While Mom is quick to take offense, Frances was quick to assume otherwise. She showed Mom that everyone isn't bad or evil, that sometimes people who aren't feeling well do thoughtless things without malice of forethought.
Frances TRIED to get Mom organized. I could have told her that was a pointless occupation, but the two of them seemed content in their roles.
This is my only real nursing home experience. What are they supposed to do when it's obvious that one room occupant is very near death and the other isn't?
I don't know what's supposed to happen, but what DID happen is this: My mom was witness to a death vigil. She was an outsider forced into the intimacy of sons being with their mother as she passed. She spent many hours alone in a room with her friend's body.
I had decided that I wasn't going to be able to handle Mom today, opting for a quick lunch visit on Monday rather than a long Sunday visit.
Mom called around 9:30 this morning, obviously shaken and sad. She reported that she was so tired, but couldn't settle herself down to sleep. I convinced Mom to go lie down and promised that I'd get her help. The nursing supervisor said they thought they could administer a sedative. I'll be going this afternoon to see how she's faring.
I'm very upset with the nursing home. I realize that there are privacy issues and they probably can't say "Hey, your mom's room mate is dying." But wasn't there something that they could have done??? What is the protocol? Surely there is a protocol--I mean, isn't death a pretty normal occurrence in such a place?
What would have been my perfect solution? I would like to have been able to get my mom out of that room for the night. Why can't they take the surviving room mate to a quieter place? Knowing my mother, I'm sure she interjected herself into the situation. Wouldn't Frances' family have been more comfortable to have the room to themselves? Why didn't I get the news first thing this morning from the nursing home? Why did they leave it up to my Mom to tell me she needed help?
I am getting more and more fed up with the nursing home. Two weeks ago I learned that they had suddenly canceled all of my mom's pain meds. She's got bilateral knee replacements, a hip replacement and a shunt in her brain. Mom deals with pain at some level all the time. Especially headaches because of the shunt. She's been on prescription pain meds for at least five years. They did not wean her off, or even discuss the orders with her or with me. When the nurse told me, I hit the roof. I was really going to read her doctor the riot act. He knew nothing of the order change and shared my outrage. The medical record was falsified, saying that I had been notified. I was not. I learned first from my mother with clarification from the nurse on duty upon questioning.
I'd like to move Mom. The things that hold me back are first and foremost her financial situation. Mom's penniless and not the kind of patient that a nursing home vies for. They want well-funded patients. Secondly, she's happy where she is. At least as happy as a person in a nursing home can be. She's got friends. She's very involved in the activities. Would it be difficult for her to adjust to completely new surroundings?
It's not an easy time.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I've had friends say "My mother and I have switched places.... when did THAT happen?"
I remember exactly when it happened, when I became the mother and my mother became the child... It wasn't the day my father died, or even the day we moved her in with us.
One day I was driving my oldest daughter to cheer leading practice. I was pregnant with my son. We drove by a car accident. About a quarter mile down the road, it hit me, "That looked like Mom's car!" I turned around and sure enough, there stood my mom with a police officer. Her car was a wrangled mess.
Thankfully Mom was unhurt. Up until that day, my mother and I had pretty much lived separate lives under one roof. Mom paid her own bills. She had her own auto insurance. She had her own car. She just resided with my family and me.
After we dealt with the tow truck and the police officer, I loaded Mom into the front seat of the car and headed home. It was the first time (but not the last) that I saw that wild, disconnected look in my mother's eyes. He car had been totaled. It was a miracle that she wasn't hurt, and the accident had been deemed "her fault". But Mom was elated. She was euphoric. "This is EXACTLY what we needed, Nans. We don't spend enough time together. Now I won't be able to go anywhere and we can just be together all the time!"
Clearly she was in shock.
On the way home, she kept prattling on about how she didn't want to drive anymore, and how now *I* was responsible for *her*. I was numb.
It had been about seven years since my dad's death at that time. It was the first time I felt the weight of exactly what I had taken on when I'd promised him on his death bed that I would take care of Mom for the rest of her life.
OK... I felt the weight, but it was WAY lighter than the reality would prove to be.
I could almost feel the *snap* in the universe as mother became child and child became mother.
The regression from that day forward was gradual. Even though Mom had stopped driving, I managed to get her into her own apartment shortly after my son was born. I think I was terrified of having her in my home when the day came that she would need round-the-clock care. That was a happy accident. I've since learned that it is almost impossible to place an aging adult who lives with family.
Here we are at today. The nursing home thinks Mom is ready to "graduate" to assisted living. If everything works out, Mom will be in a more independent part of the nursing home. She'd still share a room, but she'd be in a section where there are no nurses or nurse's aides. In Mom's world that translates to one simple thing: No call bell.
If she goes to assisted living, she wouldn't be able to hit a button if she drops her pen, or if she can't reach her water, etc. No one will bring her water. She'll be expected to get her own water. She won't get breakfast in bed, and no one will help her get dressed or shower every day. I personally can't see her being able to do it, but we'll see.
We had a mother/child role reversal moment last week. Mom has decided that she wants an electronic book reader. I think she'd do really well with one. She'd be able to enlarge the print so she could read easily. They're light weight, so her hands wouldn't hurt when she holds the book. But I know how my mother lives. She'd have something spilled into it before a month went by. If not that, she'd lose it. She loses her remote all the time. She'd lose her cell phone when she had it. She loses money like crazy. How can I justify spending hundreds of dollars on a devise that mother will either lose, break or toss in a pile and never use. Trust me, one of those three things will happen. Maybe she'll forget about it and I won't have a decision to make. Ha! Maybe!
Mom fixates. She will nag and nudge and plead and prod until she gets the item that is so vital. Then I'll find it, unopened, unused and forgotten. And I clean her room, nag her to get organized, determine what she can and cannot have, etc. etc. etc.
And the beat goes on....
