Dad is still with us!

It has been a little over two years since dad came to live with us - he turns 92 in August.  He is doing extremely well, and me, not so well.  I am exhausted and in desperate need of a very long vacation.

When I brought dad out here two years ago I was told by the doctors that he probably wouldn't live very long.  He was so frail and sick.  I wanted to make him comfortable and to let him know that he was surrounded by family that cared about him.

I am a nurse - and I guess a pretty good one because dad is actually thriving.  Of course that is wonderful.  But the truth is I never would have brought him into my home if I knew it was going to be for the long haul.

So, now what do I do?  I can't bring myself to place him in a nursing home.  Dad never prepared for the possibility that he would spend his finally years in a nursing home.  He just assumed he would either die at home from old age or the hospital!  He also never thought he would live to be over 90 either! 

He is in a real pickle.  He can't afford one of the "good" nursing homes.  The best he can do at this point is placement in a state-run facility; and I wouldn't put a dog in one of those places!

I am stuck between a rock and a hard place.  My children and husband have been wonderful with the situation.  No one is overtly complaining, but I know how difficult the situation is.  I am happy to help my father, but who is going to help me? 

Now dad tells me that he wants to go on vacation with the family this summer.  Two years ago I took him to California to see his brother - they had not seen each other in over thirty years!   Dad doesn't even remember going to California!  All that effort and aggravation and he doesn't even remember going!!

Just the other day my son found dad crying in his bedroom.   Dad thought that I went on vacation and left him behind!   Is it unfair of me to not want to take him on another trip?  It was not easy - dad got confused and soiled his bed.  I was horrified and thought for sure that the hotel would charge me for the damage.  Thank goodness they didn't.

The family barely slept well during that trip because dad would get confused during the middle of the night and wander into the ajoining room and stand at the foot of my hotel bed.  He would literally stand there and just stare at us.  It felt like a bad horror movie!    The first night he did this I awoke to find him hovering over me and I let out this totally uninhibited scream.

Taking care of an elderly parent is worse than raising children.  We come into this world helpless and totally dependent on others for our care; while our elderly often find themselves in the same predicament, totally dependent on children or other caregivers.  Changing a child's diaper is one thing, changing a parent's diaper is a completely different and totally inappropriate experience.  Fortunately for me, dad is still able to perform his own personal care needs. 

Listen to me - if you get a phone call in the middle of the night to fly across the country and pick up your elderly parent, tell the person on the other end of the line that they got a wrong phone number!  Trust me, they won't put your parent out in the street.   It will buy you some time to sell off all of your possessions and leave the country! 

Only kidding - well, maybe halfway kidding...

Linda

Family Visits

I don't have a large family.  That being said, the family I do have is spread all over the country.  Last month we took my father to California to see his brother and his niece.  Earlier this month my niece came out to see her grandfather all the way from Connecticut.

My father wants so desperately to see his entire family before he dies. Yet I notice when he does have an opportunity to see a family member all he does is complain!  My poor niece was bombarded with trivial nonsense that was triggered when my father saw her!

My father has so many complex and convoluted issues that even he can't keep up with his own feelings.  Just the other day he said to me, "What is my eldest daughter's name?  However, ask him what his beef is with his eldest daughter, and he can't spit it out fast enough!  He remembers every dime he has given to people, and every fight or disagreement.  But ask him if he enjoyed the movie, he saw last night and he'll ask, "what movie?  We went to the movies last night?"

I love my family.  I know dad loves them as well.  Now if I can only get him to remember that the next time a family member visits.

If I Hear, "I Need Ex-Lax," One More Time!

Monday, June 14, 2010
160 days since accident
137 days in Colorado

Nurses have a responsibility to ask their patients' everyday, if they had a bowel movement. So it doesn't bother me to ask my dad the same question; and my father has no problem in describing with graphic detail the angst of his bowels!

"Why don't you give me Ex-Lax?" My father will yell to me from the bathroom! “I never had this problem in New York, it must be what you are feeding me,” he would say.

A visit to the gastroenterologist uncovered a perfectly functioning anal sphincter (muscle). “Your problem, Mr. Rosenberg, is that you are old, you need to drink lots of water, and increase your activity, walk thirty minutes a day.” The doctor would say. My father, always with a witty retort, responded, “Doctor, I may be old, but that doesn’t mean I have to be in pain all the time, why don’t you give me Ex-Lax?”

A perfectly logical response, really - I smile to myself as I watch the doctor turn away from dad to write something down on a piece of paper. He turns to me and hands me the name of a medication that can be purchased OTC (over-the-counter). I recognize the medication as a preparation given to individuals who need to clean themselves out before a colonoscopy. “This will help your dad,” he says.

Why do doctors do that? I mean, dad is sitting right there, he could have looked at dad and handed him the note. I ended up turning to dad, and telling him what the doctor should have told him directly, anyway. I know dad is difficult to understand. I am so used to his Eastern European accent that I don’t give it another thought. Still, as health care professionals, we need to speak directly to the patient, even if, an interpreter is in the room.

Dad may forget things that he used to have on the tip of his tongue, and he may ask the same question more than I would like, but he is still a person, and for a man almost 90 years old, he still has it going on upstairs.

So I remind my fellow caregivers to treat your aging family with respect and dignity and permit them as much independence as is safe to allow. And if you hear, "I need Ex-Lax," one more time, just smile and do like I do, and give them a piece of dark chocolate,if their health permits it.

The Dentures Last Bite

Friday May 7 2010
122 days since accident
99 days in Colorado

It has been three months since dad received his dentures and I finally got up the nerve to request a refund. It was obvious to me that the dentist was not going to claim defeat, and my dad, although he constantly complained about the dentures while at home, would become indecisive while at the dentist office.

Upon arrival, the receptionist immediately took dad to one of the patient rooms. I was surprised because I thought they would just hand dad his refund check and send us on our way. Instead, the dentist came in and asked dad what he wanted to do about the dentures. Dad looked up at the dentist and said, “I don’t know what I want myself.” Not very good at concealing my emotions, I must have shot my dad a dirty look because he sat up in the chair and said, “It is my mouth, you stay out of it!”

Maybe I was wrong to get so upset, but I confronted both the dentist and dad. I told the dentist that he should have instructed dad weeks ago, that he would not do any further adjustments until dad agreed to wear the dentures, as instructed, for a full week. I then turned to dad and said he should not agree to wear the dentures when he knows that he won’t (wear them).

Dad looked at the dentist and said he would promise to wear the dentures for a full week and wanted to give it one more chance. In agreement, the dentist wanted dad for a couple of hours to try a different approach to reducing the movement and placement of the appliances. I really didn’t have two hours to sit in the waiting room and asked if I could leave dad while I ran a couple of errands and picked up the kids at school.

I received a telephone call about two hours later – evidentially, the dentist tightened the bottom partial too much and when he pushed it down onto dad’s two remaining teeth, it hit a nerve or something and my dad cried out in horrific pain. He closed his mouth and refused to allow the dentist to do anything further. The dentist actually wanted me to come back and convince dad to open his mouth; when I arrived my dad was waiting for me and told me he was done with this dentist and the dentures. I signed the release papers, gathered up dad and his belongings, and high-tailed it out of there!

My father was furious not at himself, but at me for not standing up to the dentist, and refused to speak to me for the rest of the day. Two days later, he announced that his bottom tooth was cracked and he wanted me to call the dentist to pull the tooth! I must have called three or four dentists and each one was more expensive than the last. Embarrassed, I had no choice but to call the original dentist, the receptionist was very kind and explained that they would not be able to do the extraction because the teeth in question are canines. Generally, canines are the last to fall out and in dad’s case; they were anchored well into the bone requiring surgery to remove. Fortunately, they had a referral of an oral surgeon and gave me dad’s x-rays, and I was able to make an appointment for next Friday.