Janice M Cali
Packing & Moving
My dear faithful readers I have to apologize for my absence over the past week or two but life took an awkward turn a week ago, very awkward.
It all started on the 4th of July around 9:30 in the morning. No wait, let me back up to the 2nd of July. That day, a Thursday my sister and I went up to visit our folks and take them out to lunch. Even though going out for lunch is difficult for both of them, they enjoy it very much and they hadn't
been out for a while, except for doctors' appointments, etc. So we all went to the Olive Garden, a nice Italian Restaurant that my father loves, and I, frankly don't mind at all. Anyway, my father has been getting physical therapy so he is walking better, not great but a lot better, so we didn't take his wheelchair he felt he could walk, and he did very well. What Daddy forgets is that East Texas in the summer is HOT, and that day was no exception being in the high 90's. So by the time we got home he was exhausted. I was afraid he wouldn't make it back to their apartment, but he managed, and once in his chair, immediately folded in on himself.
My sister went to the grocery store to pick up a few things that they needed, I did some puttering around the apartment, got both parents ice water and their blankets so they could nap in their recliners. Straightened out their clothes, hung up some laundry, you get the picture.
Anyway after my sister got back from the store, the groceries were put away, and we had bid both parents a good night and everything we headed home, proud of how well Daddy had done that day, and even commenting that Mom seemed to be in a slightly better mood than she had lately.
On the 3rd nothing special happened, there was the usual pre-barbecue in the park, this is when the Bar Be Que-rs from out of town and around here all gather to cook BBQ and the next day have a cook off to see who did the best. And we have a celebration.
Saturday morning, around 10:30 I got a call from my Mom, that went something like this,
Mom: "Good morning, honey, I just called to wish you a happy 4th."
Me: "Thanks, Mom, you too"
Mom: "is Jerry going to be there today?"
Me: "No, not today, he has to work his other job, why?"
Mom: "No real reason, I just thought maybe you'd like to come up and visit."
Me: "I can do that if you want."
Mom: "No, I don't want you driving alone and Carol isn't home."
Me: "She's probably out working on the house finishing up projects."
Mom: "I love you."
Me: "I love you too, are you OK?"
Mom: "Yes, I'm fine" (catch in her voice)
Me: "You sound sad is are you sure you're all right?"
Mom: "Yes, I'm fine, really."
Me: "How's Daddy?"
Mom: "Your Daddy fell and they say he should go to the critical care clinic because they don't want him at the ER because of all the diseases and he could catch something and I don't want to pay for an ambulance."
Me: "We'll be there in less than 2 hours."
Mom: "Well, I didn't want to bother you, don't come alone."
Me: "You're not bothering us, and I'll pick up Carol on the way."
I swear to God that's how the call went, the words might vary a little, the order even a tad, but the gist is right, including leaving out the real reason for the call until the end of the conversation. My Mom is one passive aggressive to contend with, I promise that.
So, I pack up me, my stuff and headed out the door, no coffee, no bath, just brush the hair, get dressed and out. I did stop for coffee on the way to get my sister, with my last dollar since I'd left my money in my other jeans by mistake and forgot it completely in my rush.
I got to my sister's house in about 20 minutes from hanging up the phone to getting coffee to driving the six or seven miles out of town. Told her the situation, she told her husband, got a bottle of water and hopped in the car. We were off.
An hour later we were driving into the retirement village where my parents are living and were in my parents room to find my Mom almost in tears and my father in incredible pain. He'd fallen in the bathroom and had hurt either his back, or ribs, we couldn't tell what, but the nurse at the apartments had checked him out when he fell and deemed that he didn't need emergency medical care, hence not going to the ER.
Carol and I got his wheelchair and went to help him out of his chair, and almost passed out, I hate to say this but my father stank! He was horrible, my sister was trying to repress a gagging sensation, I was trying to figure out how not to breathe and Daddy was trying to figure out how to get into his wheelchair without embarrassing any of us since he only had on his bathrobe, shorts and a shirt. He obviously hadn't bathed in days, and it was awful
We got Daddy into the car, Carol took off going to the clinic that handles minor emergencies, and I went back to help Mom, calm her down, get her something to eat if she hadn't had breakfast, mostly to calm her down.
The first thing she said was something about needing to clean Daddy's chair because it was dirty and smelled, no argument there, it was as ripe as he was. I got cleaning stuff, plastic gloves, Lysol, etc. and started cleaning, Mom, said, that she was going to do that, which of course, she knew I'd do, but again the passive aggressive. I cleaned the chair, did a bunch of other stuff, that she said she wanted to do but I know she can't, so...
After about 1/2 hour of messing around my sister called from the clinic wanting me to ask Mom when Daddy had fallen, I did so and found out, much to my surprise and some anger, that it had been Thursday night. Now you know why I'd talked about our outing. He had gotten so tired that he didn't have the strength to walk to the bathroom and still be able to stand. And because the nurses said that they didn't want him to go the ER but to the critical care clinic instead, they waited two days to call us, waited until Daddy couldn't stand the pain anymore. On Friday, community bus driver could have taken him, with one of the aides to help, or they could have called us then, hell, they could have called Thursday night, we would have been there, but they waited two days! Neither of us could believe that they'd done this, it was absurd and I don't believe the nurses at the community didn't insist on them either calling us or letting their drivers take him to the clinic.
After we had dealt with all the questions from Carol, gotten medical information faxed from the nurses at the home health center, Mom got up to go to the bathroom and I decided that since it was almost noon, it was way past time I got something to eat, remember I'd left the house without even coffee. As I was microwaving something, I was in speed mode, something that happens when I'm anxious and haven't eaten, and trip over a stool that Mom keeps in the kitchen. I caught my toe and down I went with a yelp and several swear words. Mom, immediately calls out, "Did you just fall? Are you all right?" Of course, I lied my head off, "no I just stubbed my toe on that blasted stool." And I made record time getting up off the floor, something that is hard for me to do since my two knee replacements and car accident, but I got up and fast, that last thing my mom needed was to find me on the floor.
I finally got settled enough to eat and tried to figure out how to approach my Mom about their, Daddy and her, need to go into a more controlled environment, something like a nursing home. My sister had been discussing this for several months but didn't want to approach them until we thought they would be receptive, both are very independent souls and we didn't want to force the issue if we could avoid it.
But the time had come, but how do I start? I didn't Mom did, she started telling me that she couldn't sleep because Daddy was always needing something and wouldn't or couldn't get it for himself. Now understand my mom is riddled with arthritis and degenerative disk disease, she is bent almost double and walking is now not allowed, but she sometimes does it anyway. Her mind is still basically sharp, but she has less lucid moments. She's 85 almost 86 and is allowed less lucid moments. But she was right she can't take care of my father, much less herself. They have had help coming in for three to four hours a day seven days a week, but it was no longer necessary.
So we had a long discussion about the options, I made sure she understood that a nursing home would not be anything like independent living or even assisted living, it would be mroe intrusive, more people coming in and out, helping with everything, no kitchen, no privacy as she now knew it, but it would be the help she and Daddy needed. She was ready, I was relieved.
I told her that I'd talk to Carol about it on the way home and we'd come back and talk to Daddy and her when Daddy was feeling better. To this she agreed, but when Carol and Daddy got back, she said, they were barely in the house, we need to have that talk now.
Carol and Daddy got home, Daddy wearing a brace/girdle/whatever around his tummy with the announcement that he might have a cracked rib, but it didn't show up on the x-ray, but sometimes they don't. To me when he sat it looked like severe muscle spasms, but Carol said the doctor said that a cracked rib could cause that too.
We got Daddy almost settled, not an easy task, and I started to talk about what mom and I talked about, Daddy was not settled, he couldn't listen. After about an hour, he got settled enough for me to outline what mom and I had talked about, I told him as much about nursing home care as I could and that he could comprehend at the time and told him we would investigate the place in Hughes Springs on Monday. More discussion, and then Carol and I left.
Monday, Carol makesd an appointment with the Administrator at the local nursing home, which fortunately is less that 1/4 mile from where I live and about 1/2 mile from my sister. It also has a very high rating with the state, and I know the head of nursing, the psychologist that goes there weekly, and some of the aides.
We toured the place, my phobia started kicking in (Oh, did I mention I have a really bad phobia about nursing homes? I've been in two several times, and had bad experiences in both, the first was the worst, but none are good.) and I needed to stop the tour, see the room they were talking about for our parents and get the hell out of there. Of course, that wasn't going to happen fast. First we looked at the room, the only one with a private bath, amazingly, had just become vacant! It was a putrid lavender color, with horrible floral wallpaper trim around the ceiling line. Yuck, that would have to change.
Did I mention that one requirement my parents had about a nursing home was a private bath? This is extremely rare, usually, you share a potty with the room next to you, and the aides wheel you down to a community shower, one at a time. So the private bath was a blessing, otherwise we were going to have a major problem.
We finally got to the administrators office, and started talking about care, the facility, activities, all the questions you have for a place your parents are probably going to spend the rest of their lives, unfortunately.. All the answers were good, honest, as far as we could tell. We talked to my friend the head of nursing, she answered the questions we had, favorably. Yes, my parents can have their lift chairs, they can have their own furniture, as much as they can fit and still be safe, they can paint the walls any color they want, the owners even said we could put down a fake wood floor that is really vinyl, but has a textrue and mom is less apt to slid on it.
We were then off the the folks, to describe the place, take pictures of the room now, Carol had made a scale drawing and shown where furniture could go, how we'd store clothes that wouldn't fit in the closet; we took floor samples, and paint chips. Mom approved the floor, picked out a pretty good color, which I changed without telling her, because when I got it in the light at the nursing home it was dead, so I picked one in the same color tones and values, but with a little more life. She chose a cocoa with white trim and most of her furniture is white, so the room will be bright especially when we put the paintings in it. Mine of Spring, some of Daddy's and one or two of my sister's.
The rest of this time we have been running around like crazy, getting the paint, flooring, boxes to pack what they are taking and get ready to pack what they won't be taking, but we will and getting everything else ready to go to the salvation army.
My folks have gone from owning a 2400 square foot home, to a renting 1200 square foot apartment to a single room in a nursing home, all in a period of just three years. And in the past two years I've watched my father go from being a highly independent man, with a brilliant brain to a man who needs help with simple things, reminders to bathe, help remembering to take his medication and afraid to try to do anything for himself. My Mother has changed some, she could walk much better when she first moved to the apartment, but after multiple falls, she no longer should even chance walking with a walker, but uses her motorized chair everywhere, as she should.. Her knees no longer work properly, her spine is shot, and her mind is slowly going.
This is the saddest thing a child ever has to go through. I always wanted my parents to live forever. Now I want them to quietly, go to sleep before they are much less of themselves. Daddy is constantly having TIAs, and doesn't realize how much he is changing, usually, Mom does know and she is getting more and more hopeless about Daddy, and afraid she will out live him, something she has never wanted to do. Mom, her pain levels are off the chart but sh considers pain relief one Tylenol. It doesn't help all that much.
It is sad to say you want your parents to die, not for me, but fo them, I don't want them to continue to deteriorate the way they are, I don't want one of the to have to try to live without the other. Next month on the 8th of August they will celebrate their 66th Wedding Anniversary, I would love for them to have their 70th in four years, but I fear this will not happen. I want them with me forever but I don't want them to continue to go down hill and still be alive. They would hate being in a bed, 24 hours a day, seven days a week with someone helping the go to the bathroom, clean them, dress them, all the indignities that go with being old, bedridden and helpless. No, I don't want that for my parents, ever.
It all started on the 4th of July around 9:30 in the morning. No wait, let me back up to the 2nd of July. That day, a Thursday my sister and I went up to visit our folks and take them out to lunch. Even though going out for lunch is difficult for both of them, they enjoy it very much and they hadn't
been out for a while, except for doctors' appointments, etc. So we all went to the Olive Garden, a nice Italian Restaurant that my father loves, and I, frankly don't mind at all. Anyway, my father has been getting physical therapy so he is walking better, not great but a lot better, so we didn't take his wheelchair he felt he could walk, and he did very well. What Daddy forgets is that East Texas in the summer is HOT, and that day was no exception being in the high 90's. So by the time we got home he was exhausted. I was afraid he wouldn't make it back to their apartment, but he managed, and once in his chair, immediately folded in on himself.
My sister went to the grocery store to pick up a few things that they needed, I did some puttering around the apartment, got both parents ice water and their blankets so they could nap in their recliners. Straightened out their clothes, hung up some laundry, you get the picture.
Anyway after my sister got back from the store, the groceries were put away, and we had bid both parents a good night and everything we headed home, proud of how well Daddy had done that day, and even commenting that Mom seemed to be in a slightly better mood than she had lately.
On the 3rd nothing special happened, there was the usual pre-barbecue in the park, this is when the Bar Be Que-rs from out of town and around here all gather to cook BBQ and the next day have a cook off to see who did the best. And we have a celebration.
Saturday morning, around 10:30 I got a call from my Mom, that went something like this,
Mom: "Good morning, honey, I just called to wish you a happy 4th."
Me: "Thanks, Mom, you too"
Mom: "is Jerry going to be there today?"
Me: "No, not today, he has to work his other job, why?"
Mom: "No real reason, I just thought maybe you'd like to come up and visit."
Me: "I can do that if you want."
Mom: "No, I don't want you driving alone and Carol isn't home."
Me: "She's probably out working on the house finishing up projects."
Mom: "I love you."
Me: "I love you too, are you OK?"
Mom: "Yes, I'm fine" (catch in her voice)
Me: "You sound sad is are you sure you're all right?"
Mom: "Yes, I'm fine, really."
Me: "How's Daddy?"
Mom: "Your Daddy fell and they say he should go to the critical care clinic because they don't want him at the ER because of all the diseases and he could catch something and I don't want to pay for an ambulance."
Me: "We'll be there in less than 2 hours."
Mom: "Well, I didn't want to bother you, don't come alone."
Me: "You're not bothering us, and I'll pick up Carol on the way."
I swear to God that's how the call went, the words might vary a little, the order even a tad, but the gist is right, including leaving out the real reason for the call until the end of the conversation. My Mom is one passive aggressive to contend with, I promise that.
So, I pack up me, my stuff and headed out the door, no coffee, no bath, just brush the hair, get dressed and out. I did stop for coffee on the way to get my sister, with my last dollar since I'd left my money in my other jeans by mistake and forgot it completely in my rush.
I got to my sister's house in about 20 minutes from hanging up the phone to getting coffee to driving the six or seven miles out of town. Told her the situation, she told her husband, got a bottle of water and hopped in the car. We were off.
An hour later we were driving into the retirement village where my parents are living and were in my parents room to find my Mom almost in tears and my father in incredible pain. He'd fallen in the bathroom and had hurt either his back, or ribs, we couldn't tell what, but the nurse at the apartments had checked him out when he fell and deemed that he didn't need emergency medical care, hence not going to the ER.
Carol and I got his wheelchair and went to help him out of his chair, and almost passed out, I hate to say this but my father stank! He was horrible, my sister was trying to repress a gagging sensation, I was trying to figure out how not to breathe and Daddy was trying to figure out how to get into his wheelchair without embarrassing any of us since he only had on his bathrobe, shorts and a shirt. He obviously hadn't bathed in days, and it was awful
We got Daddy into the car, Carol took off going to the clinic that handles minor emergencies, and I went back to help Mom, calm her down, get her something to eat if she hadn't had breakfast, mostly to calm her down.
The first thing she said was something about needing to clean Daddy's chair because it was dirty and smelled, no argument there, it was as ripe as he was. I got cleaning stuff, plastic gloves, Lysol, etc. and started cleaning, Mom, said, that she was going to do that, which of course, she knew I'd do, but again the passive aggressive. I cleaned the chair, did a bunch of other stuff, that she said she wanted to do but I know she can't, so...
After about 1/2 hour of messing around my sister called from the clinic wanting me to ask Mom when Daddy had fallen, I did so and found out, much to my surprise and some anger, that it had been Thursday night. Now you know why I'd talked about our outing. He had gotten so tired that he didn't have the strength to walk to the bathroom and still be able to stand. And because the nurses said that they didn't want him to go the ER but to the critical care clinic instead, they waited two days to call us, waited until Daddy couldn't stand the pain anymore. On Friday, community bus driver could have taken him, with one of the aides to help, or they could have called us then, hell, they could have called Thursday night, we would have been there, but they waited two days! Neither of us could believe that they'd done this, it was absurd and I don't believe the nurses at the community didn't insist on them either calling us or letting their drivers take him to the clinic.
After we had dealt with all the questions from Carol, gotten medical information faxed from the nurses at the home health center, Mom got up to go to the bathroom and I decided that since it was almost noon, it was way past time I got something to eat, remember I'd left the house without even coffee. As I was microwaving something, I was in speed mode, something that happens when I'm anxious and haven't eaten, and trip over a stool that Mom keeps in the kitchen. I caught my toe and down I went with a yelp and several swear words. Mom, immediately calls out, "Did you just fall? Are you all right?" Of course, I lied my head off, "no I just stubbed my toe on that blasted stool." And I made record time getting up off the floor, something that is hard for me to do since my two knee replacements and car accident, but I got up and fast, that last thing my mom needed was to find me on the floor.
I finally got settled enough to eat and tried to figure out how to approach my Mom about their, Daddy and her, need to go into a more controlled environment, something like a nursing home. My sister had been discussing this for several months but didn't want to approach them until we thought they would be receptive, both are very independent souls and we didn't want to force the issue if we could avoid it.
But the time had come, but how do I start? I didn't Mom did, she started telling me that she couldn't sleep because Daddy was always needing something and wouldn't or couldn't get it for himself. Now understand my mom is riddled with arthritis and degenerative disk disease, she is bent almost double and walking is now not allowed, but she sometimes does it anyway. Her mind is still basically sharp, but she has less lucid moments. She's 85 almost 86 and is allowed less lucid moments. But she was right she can't take care of my father, much less herself. They have had help coming in for three to four hours a day seven days a week, but it was no longer necessary.
So we had a long discussion about the options, I made sure she understood that a nursing home would not be anything like independent living or even assisted living, it would be mroe intrusive, more people coming in and out, helping with everything, no kitchen, no privacy as she now knew it, but it would be the help she and Daddy needed. She was ready, I was relieved.
I told her that I'd talk to Carol about it on the way home and we'd come back and talk to Daddy and her when Daddy was feeling better. To this she agreed, but when Carol and Daddy got back, she said, they were barely in the house, we need to have that talk now.
Carol and Daddy got home, Daddy wearing a brace/girdle/whatever around his tummy with the announcement that he might have a cracked rib, but it didn't show up on the x-ray, but sometimes they don't. To me when he sat it looked like severe muscle spasms, but Carol said the doctor said that a cracked rib could cause that too.
We got Daddy almost settled, not an easy task, and I started to talk about what mom and I talked about, Daddy was not settled, he couldn't listen. After about an hour, he got settled enough for me to outline what mom and I had talked about, I told him as much about nursing home care as I could and that he could comprehend at the time and told him we would investigate the place in Hughes Springs on Monday. More discussion, and then Carol and I left.
Monday, Carol makesd an appointment with the Administrator at the local nursing home, which fortunately is less that 1/4 mile from where I live and about 1/2 mile from my sister. It also has a very high rating with the state, and I know the head of nursing, the psychologist that goes there weekly, and some of the aides.
We toured the place, my phobia started kicking in (Oh, did I mention I have a really bad phobia about nursing homes? I've been in two several times, and had bad experiences in both, the first was the worst, but none are good.) and I needed to stop the tour, see the room they were talking about for our parents and get the hell out of there. Of course, that wasn't going to happen fast. First we looked at the room, the only one with a private bath, amazingly, had just become vacant! It was a putrid lavender color, with horrible floral wallpaper trim around the ceiling line. Yuck, that would have to change.
Did I mention that one requirement my parents had about a nursing home was a private bath? This is extremely rare, usually, you share a potty with the room next to you, and the aides wheel you down to a community shower, one at a time. So the private bath was a blessing, otherwise we were going to have a major problem.
We finally got to the administrators office, and started talking about care, the facility, activities, all the questions you have for a place your parents are probably going to spend the rest of their lives, unfortunately.. All the answers were good, honest, as far as we could tell. We talked to my friend the head of nursing, she answered the questions we had, favorably. Yes, my parents can have their lift chairs, they can have their own furniture, as much as they can fit and still be safe, they can paint the walls any color they want, the owners even said we could put down a fake wood floor that is really vinyl, but has a textrue and mom is less apt to slid on it.
We were then off the the folks, to describe the place, take pictures of the room now, Carol had made a scale drawing and shown where furniture could go, how we'd store clothes that wouldn't fit in the closet; we took floor samples, and paint chips. Mom approved the floor, picked out a pretty good color, which I changed without telling her, because when I got it in the light at the nursing home it was dead, so I picked one in the same color tones and values, but with a little more life. She chose a cocoa with white trim and most of her furniture is white, so the room will be bright especially when we put the paintings in it. Mine of Spring, some of Daddy's and one or two of my sister's.
The rest of this time we have been running around like crazy, getting the paint, flooring, boxes to pack what they are taking and get ready to pack what they won't be taking, but we will and getting everything else ready to go to the salvation army.
My folks have gone from owning a 2400 square foot home, to a renting 1200 square foot apartment to a single room in a nursing home, all in a period of just three years. And in the past two years I've watched my father go from being a highly independent man, with a brilliant brain to a man who needs help with simple things, reminders to bathe, help remembering to take his medication and afraid to try to do anything for himself. My Mother has changed some, she could walk much better when she first moved to the apartment, but after multiple falls, she no longer should even chance walking with a walker, but uses her motorized chair everywhere, as she should.. Her knees no longer work properly, her spine is shot, and her mind is slowly going.
This is the saddest thing a child ever has to go through. I always wanted my parents to live forever. Now I want them to quietly, go to sleep before they are much less of themselves. Daddy is constantly having TIAs, and doesn't realize how much he is changing, usually, Mom does know and she is getting more and more hopeless about Daddy, and afraid she will out live him, something she has never wanted to do. Mom, her pain levels are off the chart but sh considers pain relief one Tylenol. It doesn't help all that much.
It is sad to say you want your parents to die, not for me, but fo them, I don't want them to continue to deteriorate the way they are, I don't want one of the to have to try to live without the other. Next month on the 8th of August they will celebrate their 66th Wedding Anniversary, I would love for them to have their 70th in four years, but I fear this will not happen. I want them with me forever but I don't want them to continue to go down hill and still be alive. They would hate being in a bed, 24 hours a day, seven days a week with someone helping the go to the bathroom, clean them, dress them, all the indignities that go with being old, bedridden and helpless. No, I don't want that for my parents, ever.
My Life My Muse
Beta Girl Blog
She's fully moved in now, and hating every single moment of it. She really cannot stand it, and my heart is just broken. She was not as receptive as your folks. She went kicking and screaming. It makes you feel horrible because she's still a person, but she literally cannot take care of herself anymore.
I can relate to the way you feel about wishing they would just slip away peacefully. My grandmother is constantly saying now that she just wants to die. I tell her no, no, no. We want you here with us...but inside, I know that it would be the most merciful thing for her. I don't know how long she's going to be able to take this.
I will keep your family in my prayers, Janice.
I and Me
Just Writing
I once swore my parents would never go to one, that I'd have them here first, but that was the most unrealistic statement I've ever made. I can't take care of them. It would be impossibel and they'd hate living with me as much as a nursing home.
They don't yet know what it's going to be like, but I've been brutally honest. I've told them they will hate it at first but to give the people a chance, get to know the staff and other residents (notice not patients). Join in the activities, etc. They may and they may not.
Just got back from packing some of the things they will be taking with them, and my father is do down it's scary. His depression and not being able to do anything to help us and for himself is horrible to watch. Slowly he is slipping into dementia, which is the worst thing because sometimes he is very lucid and then he's aware of the loss of his mind, and it was, honestly, brilliant. I so grieve for that loss for him, and for my mother who must watch it, and she also is slowly slipping into the same illness. I hate every minute of it.
Whoops, that was almost a blog in itself, but I needed to rant a touch. Thank you for understanding, and I hope your grandmother can give herself a chance to adjust, it is so easy for the elderly to give up their will to live and do exactly what they want, die. I pray your grandmother finds the will to continue until she really is ready and so are you.
Janice