Parental Journal 09 from Planet Elderly: Gradually Adjusting to a New Chapter

Posted on July 24, 2015 by Jenny Mummert

Sunday, April 12, 2015 6:30 a.m.

Very calm day yesterday. We had a nice visit with Dad and Mom didn’t cry much. At one point yesterday she asked me, “Do you think Dad is ever coming home?” I told her I thought he would continue to decline mentally over time and that other than a miracle occurring, no, I didn’t think he would come home. She said thought the same thing. “Yes,” I replied. “Now it’s sort of like getting used to a new chapter in your life…being here without him, but knowing you can visit him and that he is safe and cared for.” She nodded her head.

Today Mom does a solo trip to see Dad. She paid close attention to how we drove there yesterday and we wrote down directions, which I typed in large print later. Kind of a big day for her. I know she’s a bit anxious.

10:45 a.m.
Mom called from Victory Lakes to say they are taking Dad to the hospital…Condell. They are concerned about his breathing. She’ll go over to the hospital and said she knows the way home.

5:00 p.m.
I drove over to Victory Lakes and then Mom and I drove to Condell’s ER. X-ray and tests were done. All his vitals were fine. His primary care doctor was contacted and ordered an extra dose of a medication to reduce the swelling. Then he was to be brought back to Victory Lakes. So we drove back to Victory Lakes ahead of Dad, organized his clothes, and then went home. We had a bit of wine while dinner cooked. Mom doesn’t sip hers. She approaches wine like most of us approach orange juice.

Looks like, as my cousin suggested, Dad will be one of those elderly who goes back and forth from long-term care facility to ER. I doubt that the prescribed extra meds to reduce swelling will help in the long run. With his labored breathing and drowsiness, he looked like he was ready to transition…but the vital signs were fine and he’s probably enjoying some dinner as I type this. We’ll see him tomorrow.

Mom did fine driving to and from the facility, and she gave pretty good directions when we had to go over to the ER at Condell. She’s been there several times before.

I could actually fall asleep right now, but will try to stay awake until 10.

My sweet fella, Steve, is dealing with his own parental situation. His dad just turned 99 and is suddenly having some health issues. Steve will travel to western Illinois Tues. to consult with his sister-in-law, brother, and cousin. The sister-in-law and cousin have both been assisting his dad.

Mon. April 13, 2015

Dad is doing fine. Had a large breakfast, and when we visited today, he had a large lunch. He’s down 3 lbs. due to the extra dose of diuretic he was given yesterday. That’s fine, but the edema will likely return with his current health issues.

Early a.m. – Mom fussing about bank books again; confused. Mad at Dad because he did not get her a card or take her out to lunch for their anniversary or for holidays. She’s convinced he could have, which convinces me that she’s been in denial for a very long time about his decline. She just thought he was being stubborn.

I called the lawyer and left a message inquiring about progress in getting some paperwork we requested. I called at 9:05 a.m. It’s 3 p.m. No response. I will call every morning until it gets done.

Beautiful afternoon…time for a walk.

Tues. April 14, 2015

I called the lawyer again this morning. Was told she would call me back. As of 6:14 p.m. she has not returned my call. Will call again tomorrow.

Dad had a drippy nose and a low fever. Nurse said she gave him some Tylenol. His swelling has gone down. He ate a good breakfast and lunch…alert prior to lunch. Sleepy after lunch.

We’re now on the month-by-month schedule in terms of paying for the long-term care.

We made some progress with banking. Just two banks to deal with and I am on all accounts in case I need to more directly assist. We need to search for keys for the safety deposit boxes. I brought one with me because I was given a key a few years ago. Gave it to Mom the day I arrived. She has misplaced it. Often she denies me giving it to her. She also claims she never bought the shredded cheddar cheese in the refrigerator.

Mom received a call from the library saying she has an appointment tomorrow at 11:30 for “primary taxes.” She was all worked up about that and I was curious. I called the library back and they confirmed that she has an appointment tomorrow with the AARP person to help her with taxes. BUT…she told me two months ago that she went to the library to have the taxes done, and she recently received federal and state refunds. Of course, the paperwork is nowhere to be found. We’ll have to hunt around for it. Next year I want to be with her when she files her taxes. Most likely she made a second appointment because she saw “taxes” written on her calendar for April 15 and she probably forgot she had them done …so she made another appointment.

Keeping track of things she’s not used to keeping track of is extremely challenging for her. So far, she’s doing okay with her wallet, car and house keys, general household products she uses, and most food items.

We’re both sleeping better. At least we’re not up walking around at 2 or 3 a.m. lately. Better enjoy it. Plenty of nights ahead with sleep problems, no doubt.

Last night we saw the movie “The Notebook” on TV. It was very sweet. Halfway through I realized I had seen it before.

Daily Routine
Coffee, news, and visiting in the early a.m.
Breakfast
Leave around 10 a.m. to see Dad and stay with him through lunch.
Home about 1:30 p.m.
Errands if needed
Early dinner
TV or reading time…sometimes chat time…occasionally we do some purging or searching for stuff.
We pass garden centers when we drive around here and there, and my soul aches to be outside gardening. I truly miss the spring gardening activities.

Wed. April 15, 2015  5p.m.

Dad continues to eat well and was quite alert today. We got a few smiles from him and he returned my Mom’s kiss.

Mom and I met my cousin and her husband for a mid-day meal. Mom appreciated seeing them. I did, too. Looking forward to future visits when we can just chat as cousins. Today we just did a lot of general chat because Mom joined us. Mom and I went for a walk when we got back.

I plan to say home tomorrow and Mom will do a solo visit. Weather should be good for driving. We are in a general routine and things are much calmer than when I first arrived, but I naturally feel tied down and miss my life in Missouri. I hope things stay stable so that I can go back to mid-Mo for a few weeks after Mother’s Day.

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Parental Journal 08 from Planet Elderly: Issues and the Oxygen Argument

Posted on July 21, 2015 by Jenny Mummert

Tues. April 8, 2015 morning

Dad had a low grade fever yesterday, so the nurse kept him in the dementia wing during lunch. We visited with him there, but he did not eat anything. Nursing staff are concerned about the swelling in his legs. Main nurse said she asked to have the doctor check him.
We were able to see a lot of acting out and shouting from the residents in the dementia wing. This was very disturbing to Mom, so we took Dad to his room to wait for staff to put him to bed for his afternoon nap. “I don’t ever want to go through something like this,” she said. “Just let me go, okay? This is too hard to go through.”

Mom’s eye exam went well. No glaucoma. No change in prescription. She is quite happy.

I’m re-reading sections of the book The 36-hour Day. Mom gets super sensitive about some things and I have to remind myself of why she will have a few outbursts now and then…what the book calls “catastrophic reactions.” We call them over reactions…but I need to remember to slow down, not offer too many suggestions, and when she repeatedly asks the same questions, to respond to her without sounding like I’m talking to a child.

Not sleeping well in general. Last night was one of the worst; seemed like I was awake most of the night tossing and turning.

Mom’s friend’s husband, Lou, died two nights ago. She has another relative, Laura, with lung cancer and little time left, although she is scheduled to come over Friday with Carol, another relative, Friday for an afternoon meal. Mom is worried about “things happening in three’s.”

2:00 p.m.
Dad was bright eyed when we arrived today. No temperature. He had a good lunch. Nurse concerned about labored breathing, so he was hooked up to some oxygen. Dr. has ordered some blood work and an x-ray. We brought some of his own compression stockings, but the staff had temporarily taped his legs. When he arrived a few weeks ago, Dad was given some medicine to increase his appetite, so that’s why he’s generally eating better. It’s also why he has gained some weight.

I’m still dragging from lack of sleep. Will probably take a nap, but better set an alarm so that I don’t sleep more than an hour.

9:30 p.m.
Mom received a call from the nurse. Dad is being given medicine for a lung infection and he’s doing better. This upset Mom, but she also said, “At least he’s there and they are looking out for him. If he were home, I wouldn’t know if he was in trouble. Well, I know I won’t sleep tonight.”

Thurs. April 9, 2015 6 a.m.

Got a bit more sleep last night.

Well, Wed. April 8, 2015 should go down as the day Mom and I peeled off a major layer in our “housemates” relationship.
“You make me feel like an idiot,” she said, crying.
“You make me feel like a child,” I replied. Of course I immediately thought: not skillful!
“Well, you are my child. You’re my baby.”
“I’m your 68-year-old baby.”

Nobody shouted. We just both sounded frustrated. We were both being honest.

Of course she feels like an idiot. Her short-term memory is quite impaired at times…and then when I explain something for the 5th or 6th time, my “teacher” voice probably kicks in. I think I’m trying to sound kind, but to her it probably sounds like I’m talking to a 5-year-old.

After the exchange, she opened up quite a bit and I listened. It was very helpful.
Throughout her married life, Mom has been given an allowance. In recent years it has been $40 per week. I tried to get Dad to raise it to $100/week, but he would just chuckle. In the meantime, he managed all the finances until it got to the point last year when it would take him about an hour or two to write a check. That’s when I convinced Mom she needed to take over check writing, and she has been nervous and uncomfortable with it ever since…to the point of going to the bank and having a trusted manager help her.
So with me setting her up with some general files…reminding her over and over that she did file income taxes and received her refunds already…the project of consolidating everything at one bank…my getting frustrated when she takes us on weird routes to places because she doesn’t quite remember how to get there…and then her having to be in charge of all the decision-making and feeling lost, afraid, angry, and frustrated…the pressure cooker naturally builds up pressure.

I’m glad she can easily share her thoughts and feelings. I’m fascinated that as much as she HATES anyone telling her what to do, she hovers over and directs others by telling them what to do. That said, she is quite aware that I’m there because I want to help her get things organized and adjust to their last chapter together with Dad in long-term care. She is also worried because when I go back to Missouri for an extended visit, she wants to be able to take care of things on her own. We’re working on that: auto pay for bills, using one bank, creating a file system for statements, driving herself to local places, etc. Understandably…it’s all so much so fast.

I also think she is fearful about her own cognitive functioning. During our discussion last night I was able to tell her of my concern about her frequent confusion. She cannot seem to remember that she now has the bank books and keeps them in a place she decided is safe. When she looks at recent banking activity in the ledger, she thinks Dad did these things…wrote these checks…made these payments. And then, as gently as possible, I tell her, “He can’t.”

Friday, April 10. 2015 afternoon

Difficult day yesterday. Mom and Dad had an argument. He’s hooked up to oxygen and after lunch we were in his room and he needed to wipe under his nose. Naturally, the tubes were in the way a bit and Mom watched horrified as Dad tried to remove the tube. She was very nervous and shouted at him “No! No No No!” Then she slapped his hand lightly. “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted. “You need the oxygen! I don’t want you to die! You want to be dead?!” “What are you talking about?” he asked. “You need the oxygen. You need to get better. I want you to come home!” she said. And it went back and forth a bit until she broke down sobbing. Clearly, she was sorry she slapped him, but I saw that once before at home.

I sat on the unoccupied bed and just watched. No way was I going to suggest anything to her. The few times I’ve done so set her off. I just let the whole thing play out and it resolved itself, although I remember thinking that this was another reason she should not care for him by herself. She yells at him and he yells back…plus she has the potential to slap or throw things. I’ve read that this is quite common for caregivers who are under a great deal of poorly managed stress.

Today’s visit went well. He had a big smile when he saw us. Didn’t say much, just looked and smiled. Mom dotes on him…kisses his arm and his hand…tells him how much she loves him…how much she misses him. We just sat together in the TV room of Section C. Most of the residents were not very responsive. One lady occasionally yelled loudly. Another lady held on to her baby doll like a mother bear. Ruth kept asking to leave, although she smiles every time we arrive because she thinks she and Mom went to high school together.

One of the caretakers came by and put another bracelet thing on Dad’s left wrist. The white one has his basic information. The new red one has no information. Mom asked if that was another ID and the caretaker said, “Yes.” So I asked ID for what? “DNR,” he quietly responded. Mom asked what that was and I explained that the red bracelet lets staff know that if anything should happen to Dad, they are obeying his power of attorney for health and they won’t hook him up because he doesn’t want that. It was the simplest way I could explain it to her. Later Peggy the social worker gave me two copies of doctor signed DNR forms. She said they are good anywhere in Illinois.

We were also told that Dad was having a bit of congestive heart failure. His medicine has been adjusted. He’s eating well, but has gained weight due to his being given medicine to stimulate his appetite. My…It’s all chemistry, isn’t it? I’m glad all the paperwork is in order and that he has the red bracelet. That could save a lot of heartache down the road. After I explained the red bracelet to Mom she was quiet for a while…and teared up. Then she said, “You know… some people just live too long.”

Had another “glory trip” in the car this morning as she tried to remember where the license plate place was. She had to pay for new stickers. It took 40 minutes, but we got there okay, although my blood pressure was probably elevated from my effort to keep my mouth shut and just drive.

It’s clear to me that the honeymoon phase is over. I can hear my cousin say, “I’m surprised it lasted this long.” Maybe some of my friends who have been through this would say the same thing. I no longer feel so altruistic. I often shift into how-do-I-keep-my-sanity mode. The bad days we’ve experienced will only get worse. The good days and calm clouds of time are to be enjoyed. Several times today she said to me, “I’m lucky to have you here.” And yet she wants me to be back in MO and to be managing okay by herself.

We’re still waiting on her lawyer and then the doctor to give us a letter saying Dad can no longer manage his affairs. Dad’s trust gives Mom the authority to declare that, but we’ll have to deal with Social Security and moving Dad’s payment to Mom’s bank, so a medical authority will probably be needed. Also, we can’t finish consolidating the banking matters until we get the doctor’s letter, for which the lawyer is supposed to help provide wording. The doctor will not provide his own letter because he doesn’t want it to interfere in any way with what Dad’s legal papers say. I understand why he’s being cautious.

In two weeks Mom will have her annual exam with the doctor. I mailed a confidential request that her cognitive functioning be assessed initially by him, and if needed, furthermore by specialists. She has many signs of early dementia, and if that can be diagnosed, then I will need that verification later, maybe in terms of her ability to drive, manage finances, etc. I hate doing this behind her back, but I’ve learned that it is not an uncommon request made by family members.

We’ll have lovely, clear weather this weekend, and it will be good for her to practice visiting Dad on her own. We talked about her doing this. I will feel comfortable visiting Missouri for a few weeks as long as I know she does well driving locally and to visit Dad. She might rely on neighbor Kevin to help with driving her if the weather is bad.

There is little I can do at this point without her permission. That may change in time, but I certainly hope she can maintain some independence for a while and feel more confident with banking matters and driving. It seems like 80% of the time she’s fine, but the other 20% is plagued with confusion, misinformation, and the inability to accurately comprehend all the mail and banking matters.

I know it is likely that eventually I will be responsible for her long-term care. I am very firm in my conviction that when that happens, we will need to be in Missouri. As long as Dad is with us, however, home is where she needs to be. She would never consent to relocating them both to Missouri.

Remote control: It disappeared. I remember turning it off before we left the house a few days ago and it was on the ottoman. It vanished. We are using the remote from upstairs. I don’t remember seeing it in her hands. I think I was the last to touch it. I have searched everywhere. Gone. Ah…this is what it feels like to be losing my mind.

Measuring cups: I needed a cup measure yesterday. Opened the drawer where they are kept. Not there. I asked Mom if she knew where they were. She spent 20 minutes going through stuff in the kitchen. She could not find them. We later found them nestled in with some metal bowls that stack. I did not put them there.

Bank books: Last night Mom complained again that she doesn’t know where Dad “keeps” the bank books. I reminded her that we found them all after I arrived and she decided to keep them in a certain drawer. She retrieved them and sat at the kitchen table pouring over numbers…shook her head in confusion…and needed to ask for some explanations. She has a difficult time reading small numbers when handwritten. A “3” looks like an “8” to her.

Some people would suggest that she let me take over the finances for her to keep things organized. Some people would also suggest that the landing on the moon was fake and eating chocolate is a cure for memory loss.

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Parental Journal 07 from Planet Elderly: Wearing Out My Welcome

Posted on July 19, 2015 by Jenny Mummert

Parental Journal 07 April 6, 2015

I think I’m kind of wearing out my welcome. On one hand, Mom is extremely grateful I’m here helping to organize paperwork, help advocate, keep her on track, do a little cooking, etc. On the other hand, we sometimes squabble, but she takes it far more seriously than I do. This morning she mentioned how we’re both getting frustrated with each other. We are???? I told her the only time I feel truly frustrated is when we drive around and around because she doesn’t remember how to get somewhere. Other than that, I’m having a good time and glad to be of help. On her side, she is super sensitive to receiving suggestions…from ANYONE. Yet there are also times when she’ll come right out and ask, “What do you think?” or “What would you do?” Also, she just isn’t used to having someone else around…and my stuff spread out here and there.

Dad is on the first floor now…in a wing reserved for persons with Alzheimer’s and severe dementia. The residents have their own TV area, and most receive their meals there. Dad can feed himself, so we take him to the dining room. We had Easter dinner there with him yesterday and it was delicious. Excellent food and very accommodating if someone wants something simple. Dad pretty much eats what’s put in front of him for breakfast, his favorite meal. Mom helps choose his lunch menu. A staff member picks dinner items for him and probably tries to ask what he prefers, even though he’s semi-asleep.
Yesterday he did more talking than we have heard in a long time. “I have to pee. Please help me. I have to go pee.” Two male staff members moved him from a recliner to a wheelchair and it took some maneuvering. Dad was scared. “I…I…I don’t know what to do!” Once seated, he said, “Thank you.” He was taken to his room and was returned a bit later, more comfortable. He is dressed for incontinence 24/7.

Several residents in Dad’s wing are merely bodies in chairs…slumped over…unresponsive and unaware. It is sad and it bothers my mom. One lady who is quite alert was so happy to see us yesterday. She remembered my mom from their school days. She chatted on and on and I went with the flow. It took a while for Mom to realize the lady was in another time and place.

There are two married couples in Dad’s area…or at least the couples were together in the TV area. When the aide came to take one husband away for a while, she gave them some time together. The wife was generally unresponsive, so I assumed she has Alzheimer’s. But before he was wheeled out of the room, the husband leaned over to give her a kiss…touching her face with his hand and sweetly holding his lips to hers for quite a long time. I was almost moved to tears. I imagined them as a young couple…having no idea they would be treading these difficult waters together so many years later.
I’ve come to know some of the regular residents in the dining room. There are two rooms actually, and Dad is assigned to table 14 in the smaller room. We have not seen any sign of his former table companion, Tom, for over a week.

Most residents are in wheelchairs and they are brought to their tables by aides. As residents arrive, dining staff speak with each one to ask which menu items they want. It’s a nice restaurant style atmosphere…and the soup is always homemade.
At the table next to us are Eleanor and Martha. Martha can be a chatterbox at times. Eleanor has a hard time hearing. Martha has a deep, graveling voice and is fond of addressing staff as “Miss.” “Miss, may I have a glass of water?” “Miss, when will I be taken to my room?” “Miss, it looks so gloomy outside.” Sometimes she thinks her daughter will be coming…or that someone has called to report an accident…and the staff seems very adept at easing her mind. What’s funny is that at the end of every lunch time, both Eleanor and Martha want “the check.” They are told, “It’s on the house.” “Oh…really? How nice!!”
Also at the table next to us is Jeanette. She is quite unresponsive because she has had a stroke; however, her eyes watch everyone and she seems very aware of all that is happening. I think the idea of a stroke is frightening…especially if one cannot move legs or arms. I think she has given some brief responses to questions, but for the most part, she is mute…and beautiful. Her daughter is a younger version…and I overheard the daughter telling staff that her own husband was in a horrible motorcycle accident and is in intensive care. It happened just after her mom had her stroke.

Dad continues to eat quite well, but he has labored breathing and his skin is cool to the touch. He has congestive heart disease. He doesn’t initiate conversation, except probably in instances like yesterday when he felt he had to go pee while in a recliner. His teeth are in terrible condition. He stopped going to the dentist decades ago…so his teeth are slowly rotting. I can’t figure out why he has not had a major decay/root canal type of pain. He chomps on his food like a contented cow…then spends a lot of time trying to use his tongue to clean in between teeth.

Dad will transition into the long-term care phase at The Village…same room, and for now he has no roommate. Mom and I spoke about this last night…pay for the third and last week of “respite” care, or go ahead and start him on the monthly schedule. We agreed on monthly because it did not look like he would improve much in one week. And, of course, she is so very, very guilt-ridden and cries when we visit him. Note to the Universe: if anyone ever has to put me in a facility…don’t worry about it. Get on with life and enjoy the ability to walk, talk, chew, toilet yourself, laugh, and know the present moment.

Concerns about Mom recently:
1. We agreed to have sloppy Joes for a late lunch the other day after visiting Dad. In the evening, I came downstairs after showering and Mom was fixing the same meal I prepared for lunch. She didn’t seem to remember we had that for lunch. All she could remember was that we planned to have sloppy Joes. Her response: “Oh well.”

2. The other evening she finished doing Dad’s laundry, went upstairs, and came back down all dressed because she thought we were going to see Dad. I reminded her that we see him from about 10:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. and we bring his clean clothes then.

3. We drove to the city hall to pay an electric bill and get the bill put on automatic payment. She gave directions. We took several wrong turns and got lost because all she could remember was that it was near railroad tracks.

Tomorrow: she has an eye exam in the morning. I’ll need to carefully look up the directions in advance and write them out.

Within a couple of weeks we should have her finances organized at one bank. That will be a relief. It will also be easier for her to understand…I think.

It’s almost 5:30 p.m. Time for a glass of wine.
carefully look up the directions in advance and write them out.
Within a couple of weeks we should have her finances organized at one bank. That will be a relief. It will also be easier for her to understand…….I think.
It’s almost 5:30 p.m. Time for a glass of wine.

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Parental Journal 06 from Planet Elderly: Preparing to Transition Dad to Long-term Care

Posted on July 14, 2015 by Jenny Mummert

Parental Journal 06 March 30 – April 1, 2015

Mon. March 30, 2015 – late afternoon

Once we arrived at The Village today, Mom was talking again about wanting to take Dad home. She cried a lot, went to visit with someone in physical therapy, and came back looking devastated. “They said he can’t go home if he can’t walk. That’s so unfair. I can’t let him go.” How true. She has been grieving for quite a while and was able to state an underlying reason for her suffering: unable to let him go. After 62 years together, that is quite understandable. By the time we had dinner, she chatted matter-of-factly about how it really takes two people to take care of him.

There was a small group in the TV area when the exercise lady showed up with her CD player. She asked John the Quiet if he wanted to exercise and he said, “Sure.” So she popped in her CD of old standards and began the routine. I asked if I could join in and she said, “Yes.” I mean, how hard could a little chair exercise be? Loved the music…chatted it up with the exercise lady and the other three who tried to move a bit…and I actually felt challenged. We were the life of the TV area and the staff at the nurse’s station smiled as I did my thing, tried to engage John the Quiet, and Mom even tried to move Dad’s arms a bit. Dad was in sleep mode. John the Quiet didn’t move even a pinky finger, but I had fun. Once it warms up a bit outside I can start walking.

Stopped at WalMart on the way home to pick up some things I need in order to make a wonderful chicken noodle casserole which we will split with neighbors Kevin and Sue who have been so very helpful to Mom and Dad over the years. I needed bread crumbs. Mom wanted me to get the regular kind; I wanted to get Panko. “I never had that kind before,” she said with suspicion. “It’ll taste fine. It has a bit of extra crunch. You’ll like it,” I said. The next thing to find was Gouda cheese. “Never heard of it,” she said. On the way home she said something about “eating all these new things” … as if it might not be a good idea but she’s going along with it to be a good sport.

Although we’re adjusting quite well to sharing space, we have our differences. She was quite honest in telling me that I go too fast. She’s right. My mind and body work faster and her confusion slows her down. I apologized. Oatmeal is another issue. When she made it for me my first morning here I thought it was kind of gummy…probably because she was using Aldi’s oatmeal. I’m an oatmeal snob: Quaker…the kind that takes 5 minutes to cook. She was cooking Aldi’s 1 minute oatmeal for five minutes…at least. So I gently suggested cooking it for one minute. She did not like the suggestion. I think she tried 2 or 3 and it was better than 5. Fortunately, she has a container of Quaker Oats on hand to use next. It’s the 1 minute variety, but what the hell. I add walnuts and blueberries, so it’s all good.

To do:

Call doctor’s office to request a letter verifying that Dad can no longer manage his financial affairs.

Ask doctor’s office when Mom last had an annual exam. We’ve identified a female internist to be her new primary care physician. When possible, schedule an appointment for her.

Fill out application materials in preparation for Dad to transition from respite care to long-term care. They only allow 3 weeks of respite care.

Eye exam for Mom on April 7. She’s having difficulties seeing up close.

Things we’ve been talking about:

*The difficulty of watching someone fade away.
*The complexities of the brain and how it controls so much.
*How nice to see almost a smile now and then on Dad’s face and a twinkle in his eye.
*What it’s like to live in Columbia, Missouri.
*Dad’s good appetite and weight gain.
*My friends and family in Columbia.
*Her anger and frustration at learning about their finances so late in life. Dad handled it all and she never had to write a check until she was 87. She had never even seen their bank statements. It’s all new to her.

What we are not talking:

*Her own decline in cognitive functioning

*My refusal to ride in her car as a passenger. I’m practicing the wording for the car issue. So far she’s happy to have me drive her everywhere, but the other day she said something about needing to drive. She has not driven since getting lost March 19 on her way home from visiting Dad. My refusal will hurt her feelings, and she’ll probably get livid, but I’ll explain it as calmly as possible.

Wed. April 1, 2015 3 a.m.

I’m into a segmented sleep pattern because I go to bed so early – 9 or 9:30. Then I’m awake around 2 or 3 a.m. This will change as I shift into the warmer season when it is lighter in the evening. Also, I just have “busy mind” thinking about all the things I need to help Mom organize.

Last night I helped Mom fill out the application for long-term care. It required a lot of details that she might have had difficulty locating, but we’ve been organizing things and I’ve established a notebook of important information. So we worked together as a team and she was quite relaxed. Dad will be assigned to a new room because they will be receiving several folks needing rehab on the second floor…people who need to be quarantined. The new room will be on the first floor.

I’m feeling the lack of pets. The Village has some bird cages here and there with resident birds, so I visit them and chat to get a response. One little bird is kinda funny. He sits on a perch sometimes, and just when I want to visit he can hardly keep his eyes open. He resembles some of the residents.

The Car Talk

Yesterday morning Mom said she needed to use her car so she can practice driving again…so when we go visit Dad, she’ll drive. Here it comes, I thought, and I slowly began to approach the topic that I do not want to be a passenger when she is driving. Her initial response was, “Fine. I’ll visit Dad myself and you can stay here. I feel like everyone wants to take everything away from me.” I didn’t shoot back with a response. I paused and then gently acknowledged that this is a difficult transition time…what with her primary caretaker days ending because Dad needs more care than she can provide.

I explained that I’m uncomfortable with the confusion she shows when she is driving and her sudden, last minute maneuvers with the car. I was also concerned with her getting lost while driving. “Well, I’m uncomfortable with the way you drive sometimes,” she said. I nodded and told her I have other people I’m uncomfortable with, too. “Well, if I want to go on an errand by myself, I’ll drive. But when we see Dad, we’ll use my car and you drive.” By the time we ended the conversation, she seemed fine and accepting. When we went to visit Dad, I suggested she pull the car out of the garage for practice, and she did. When we returned, I suggested she put the car into the garage, a rather narrow one car set up, and she tried.   She hates putting the car in and out of the garage.  She’s had to replace a side mirror twice.  She was out there for about ten minutes. I sat inside sipping a bit of wine, waiting. When she came in she said she decided to leave it outside because we’ll be using it in the morning. Later, she took a pair of Dad’s slacks over to the cleaners. She drove just fine. Good for her. I have a feeling that she will probably not pass her annual driving test in August, but you never know.
*****
Made a chicken noodle casserole for dinner. It was yummy. We shared some with Kevin and Sue next door. They have shared some dinner items with Mom on occasion, just to make sure she was eating.

Have Mom set up with an appointment with the doctor she doesn’t like much. She decided it would be fine to have an annual check-up with him instead of getting a new doctor. Her appointment is scheduled for April 21. When we called, we also requested a letter from the doctor stating that Dad can no longer manage his affairs. She initiated the call, but she had a hard time explaining what she wanted, so she handed the phone over to me.

I’ve been here less than two weeks, and things are going far, far better than I expected. People keep asking Mom how long I’ll be here and she tells them “for a little while.” We talked about that a bit. I told her that before going back to Missouri, I want to know that she is comfortable driving to see Dad and doing errands, that we have things organized at one bank instead of three, and that she is generally less stressed and more confident in managing things by herself. I explained that my original plan for the summer was to go back and forth and that maybe in a month or so, I’ll go down to Missouri for a couple weeks and then come back up to visit her for a while, etc. She thought that was a good plan. She knows I have family and friends in Missouri and feels badly that I’m not able to live my regular life. I just assure her that this is the right time to be up here to help out…that friends and family in Missouri understand.

Wed. April 1, 2015 – afternoon

Dad has been moved to room 127. We turned in the application papers for long-term care.
Mom asked a lot of questions today…about things we have done or things I have explained several times before. Her short-term memory is impaired.

Today it took her over 50 minutes to subtract two debits from her checking account…using pen/paper as well as a new, bright pink, easy-to-read calculator with large buttons and display I purchased for her.  When she finished, I asked her if she knew how long she’d been working on that. “About an hour.” Yup…and she did only one subtraction from the bank book balance record book. She said she thought she was hitting the keys too hard, and that’s probably true. Then I told her she had another payment to deduct. “You do it,” she said. And I did. Afterwards we kicked back and each had a little bit of Riesling wine. She told stories of working at the soda fountain at Walgreens on Michigan Ave. during the war and how she and friends would go swimming in Lake Michigan after work…around midnight. “Wasn’t the beach closed at that time of night?” I asked. “We knew the cops,” she said.

We’re supposed to try and hunt for income tax papers. They received a refund from the state, so she thinks she had them done for free at the library, but doesn’t know where she put the papers. The hunt may have to wait until tomorrow. Each morning she wakes up worried about “doing the taxes,” so it’s important to find evidence that they have been done.

Late this afternoon we had fun shredding a bunch of old papers/statements. We gave the shredder a good workout. It was stuff Dad, the former accountant, kept and kept and kept. I’m pleased that she’s agreeable to shredding stuff she’ll never need. It’s like shedding old skin. Feels good.

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Parental Journal 05 from Planet Elderly: Insistance, Confusion, and Rip Van Winkle

Posted on July 12, 2015 by Jenny Mummert

It’s interesting to re-read journal entries and edit them a bit, before I post them here.  I’m an only child baby boomer who has elderly parents dealing with dementia/Alzheimer (Dad-93) and short-term memory loss (Mom-almost 89).  We live 400 miles apart and I pretty much divide my time between visiting them and trying to maintain my own life here in mid-Missouri.

I’m just beginning this journey, and compared to other families, I think I have it fairly easy.  Mom can still live independently…and I am retired by default, so if there is some emergency, I can visit them to assist.  I am amazed when I read posts on Alzheimer.org and learn about other families’ situations when a loved one suffers with some form of dementia.

I highly recommend the book:  The 36-Hour Day by Nancy L. Mace, M.A., and Peter V. Rabins, M.D., M.P.H.  …. “A Family Guide to Caring for People Who Have Alzheimer Disease , related Dementias, and Memory Loss”  Bought my copy from Amazon.com.

So….Parental Journal 05:

Parental Journal 05 March 27 – 28, 2015

The missing toothpaste caper. Who’s the one with memory loss?? I could not find the toothpaste yesterday after breakfast. I looked everywhere in the bathroom. No toothpaste. Mom’s been misplacing things and I decided not to send her on a search throughout the house for the tube of opened toothpaste. It could wait. When I mentioned it in the early evening, she looked but could not find it. Then I went back upstairs and a light went on in my brain: check your make up bag, Jenny. Sure enough. When gathering stuff to put back in my bag, I included the toothpaste. Mom thought it was hysterical….and it certainly was, as my students would say, “My bad.”

Mom was worried and quiet this morning. I just let her talk, and it all focused on getting Dad home. Kept my mouth shut for a long time, and then I had a firm but gentle talk with her about how I would worry if she was home with Dad and fainted or had a heart attack. Dad cannot use a phone or walk…so what would happen? Would Dad want her to suffer and wear herself out taking care of him? She’s been his caregiver for years…and giving up that role is always extremely difficult for a spouse. It’s something her best friend, Barbara, had to do and Barbara adjusted. My concern is the safety and well-being of them both. I want her to have enjoyable and relaxed times with him for the time they have together. I’d like her to have lunch with the few gal pals she has left…go shopping for things she or Dad might need…experience new restaurants… go see some movies, etc. She listened without interrupting. We were quiet for a while. Then she said, “Dad is close and it’s a nice place.” She totally stopped talking about getting him home…for now.

We visited a bank, went to the library so she could get some books to read, visited Dad, and then went for Chinese at a local restaurant. We agreed it was awful and we would not return. I promised to research other Chinese restaurants in the area.

During her visit with Dad she told him, “Victor. I’m disappointed in you. You’re not doing your therapy. I need you to do your therapy so you can come home. Do you understand? Look at me! Do you understand?” No real response from him. She got up to ask someone in the therapy department a question and then I leaned over and said to Dad, “Boy…you are in big trouble. She wants you to practice walking.” He looked at me, but other than that…no response.

During lunch, Dad was quite sleepy. Before his salad was brought to him, he picked up a spoon and tried to get something from the tablecloth…several times. He knew what to do with a spoon, but there wasn’t anything there yet. Did a great job with the salad…but slowed down with lunch and was rather unresponsive. Mom tried to coach him…even tried to feed him a bit so he would start eating himself, he was very sleepy. We took him to his room and the staff put him to bed for his afternoon nap. We always kiss him good bye and tell him, “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

After our late and unsatisfactory Chinese lunch, we came home and I had Mom write two checks. She has only just begun to write checks in her mid-80s…and only rarely. It took her a while because she gets nervous, but she had me check what she wrote and overall it went well. Two local utility bills came in the mail and I set them up for auto pay. She’s quite excited about that…at least for now. I’ll need to remind her of how it works when she receives notices of bills that were paid. She will think they are bills.

So it’s after 5 p.m. and she’s been fine overall. Most likely tonight or tomorrow morning she will again begin her plans to bring Dad home. I’ll continue my song about wanting them to have quality, safe time together. Meanwhile, she’s doing laundry and ironing his clothes…happy as a lark because that is something she can do for him.

Today we also met with Peggy, the Director of Social Services. Dad’s power of attorney for health states no extraordinary measures…but when he was admitted, my mom signed a form that requires staff to resuscitate no matter what…hook him up no matter what…and all that. Last night I showed her how the form she filled out did not match Dad’s wishes, so today she signed a new form that is more in line with his power of attorney for health. She’s quite comfortable with that correction, and the director is relieved as well.

Today I spent time with “Bebe” a small, calm, quiet Shitzu (sp?)…cute as a button…brought in by the son of a lady who has Alzheimer’s. I met Bebe yesterday. Fell in love with her today. Hope I get to see her tomorrow.

Sat. March 28, 2015

Mom received a call this evening from a long-term friend, Evelyn, who said her husband has three weeks to live and is in hospice care at a hospital. Mom and Evelyn have been close over the years. Interesting to hear Mom coaching Evelyn on the benefits of having others care for the men (Dad and Lou)….it’s best…”we’re too small to take care of them….You have done all you can for Lou all these years…you need to take care of yourself…your children are there to help you …and Jeanette is here to help me”….etc. Mom did a wonderful job comforting her friend and giving her the advice and reasoning several of us have been trying to give to Mom.

Another cousin of Mom’s….wife of a cousin…Laura… is dying of lung cancer. Her time is very limited now.

Another relative, Grant, who moved to Las Vegas has Alzheimer’s and other health issues. Not doing well.

Mom continually thinks of these other situations, and I think they have helped her adjust to her current situation.  It’s just so damn difficult for her to be away from Dad after they’ve been together under the same roof for 60 years.

I came downstairs after a nap this afternoon. Mom told me she had bad news. She lost her driver’s license. We organized her wallet two days ago, as well as another card holder thing she uses. What I’ve noticed is that she begins to think about something, and the next thing I know she has cards and stuff all over the table…closely examining each. I figured she had moved her driver’s license to the card holder, and sure enough, there it was. So we organized her wallet again…keeping essential items there…and putting other things in the card holder. It will get all mixed up again…and again…and again.

Nice visit with Dad. We sit with him during lunch while Mom hovers, coaches, and directs. He ate a lot.  He’s receiving medicine to increase his appetite, and he sort of goes into auto pilot when food is put in front of him…or when he sees a spoon or fork and thinks food is there.

Before lunch we sat in a common area and a lady I had not seen before was there. Her feet were bandaged, but her toes were sticking out. She had very long toenails and got around by herself in a wheelchair. She started visiting with Mom and I could not help but write down what she said:

Said she had a husband for 57 years who brought her nothing but grief. “Alcoholism destroyed everything.” Pointing to another hospital guest, a quiet fellow named John, she said, “That’s my boyfriend over there in the brown shirt. He gives me diamonds.” Mom looked at me with a questioning look and I just chuckled and kept writing. The lady went on. “I have a big mouth like my mom, but I’m glad. I’m writing a book about my life. You should read it sometime. I’m telling the truth about everything. My name is Marilyn Monroe. You know, you have to make your own happiness.” She thought my dad was my mom’s son. “He’s 92!! My God!! Tell him to get out of that chair and do something! We had a band playing here last night. Best therapy in the world. Victor reminds me of the story of Rip Van Winkle. Thank God he’s handsome. I saw Rip Van Winkle in a bar one time, and my God, he looked awful! We’re going to have Mexican music later today…and polka. I can make a grown man cry.” Then she got up out of her wheelchair and went over to an adjacent area where she had some cottage cheese.

She’s right.  We have to make our own happiness….and the next time I’m at a bar, I’ll take a look around.

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Parental Journal Entry 04 from Planet Elderly: Some Interesting Acquaintances

Posted on July 10, 2015 by Jenny Mummert

Parental Journal 04 March 26, 2015 afternoon

Transition time ahead. Dad goes from the rehab care paid for by Medicare to respite care, not paid for by Medicare. The facility allows up to three weeks of respite care paid for week by week, but after that, a contract for longer-term care needs to be arranged. I was given the application paperwork to review with Mom. Of course when given a quick overview of what needs to be considered for Dad, Mom said she wanted him home before three weeks. What an indomitable spirit she has…that, in addition to simply refusing to accept reality.
So I try to gently guide her through the details of forms. Later tonight I’ll review with her the packet of information for long-term care. She’s done quite a bit of crying today…so we’re taking it easy and she’s enjoying doing Dad’s laundry.

Dad will be moved tomorrow to receive up to three weeks of long-term care. Mom wants him to have physical therapy and I’ve conveyed her wishes to our contact person. That will be an extra fee per 15 minutes. She’s convinced that if he can walk, he can come home. It’s something she talks to him about all the time; he responds by giving her full eye contact and then turns his attention downward. He gives no verbal response.

Today she asked if he knew who I was. He looked at me and smiled. “That’s Jeanette. Your daughter,” she said. He continued to look at me and smiled. Then she asked him if he knew who she was. No response. “I’m Pearl. I’m your wife.” Another smile. She cried.
“He doesn’t look sick,” is Mom’s rationale. I tried to explain that his disease is in his brain. Sure, he has other health issues (heart, diabetes, arthritis), but he’s eating well and that’s good. However, his inability to walk on his own or to have a conversation…these are the signs of his deterioration. She knows that…but something in her can’t accept that he is as fragile as he is.

Speaking of conversation, Dad has a roommate: Bobby. Boy, is he verbal! He’s not happy being in the rehab facility again…doesn’t like the food…but does enjoy listening to CNN with the volume up. We visited with Bobby today just before lunch. He was happy to be introduced to us and then said, “Boy, did he have a rough night! He was coughing a lot and when I woke up he was gone and I thought maybe he died.” Of course, my mom went white/white. “He was coughing and coughing. I had to press the button a lot to get the nurse.” Dad has had a runny nose, so I suspect that was part of the problem. Bobby wanted to help and I’m glad he did. And then he told us, “Boy, when I saw him come into the room I thought this is gonna be okay ‘cause I have a roommate. We had a great time. Just talked and talked. They had to tell us to stop talking and go to sleep.” When I asked what they talked about, Bobby enthusiastically said, “Baseball!” And of course, Mom was thrilled to learn that Dad had an actual conversation with someone. Bobby is quite verbal and fun to converse with, but I doubt he’s 100% accurate. No way could Dad have a conversation about baseball. Later I told Mom to be careful what other guests say….that most likely Bobby enjoyed talking on and on about baseball because he had a good listener….and an almost deaf one, to boot. I did tell Bobby not to worry if Dad did not respond occasionally because he has difficulty hearing. Bobby nodded.

Mom sat with Dad and my other buddy, Tom, during lunch time. Dad’s appetite was good. It has been. He eats anything put in front of him. Tom, on the other hand, is more aware cognitively, so if food doesn’t look good he won’t eat it. He always eats dessert, though. Yesterday when I sat with them I learned that Tom played the violin, trumpet, and piano…was in a symphony…also in a band. He said he’s “going home tomorrow.”

Lunch time today was interesting. Mom sat with Dad and Tom. I was in the lobby outside the dining room and noticed I had left my phone at home. There was another person sitting there and we started chatting. He talked for an hour straight…all about conspiracy theories…”Luciferians”…that the government killed Kennedy…that fluoride in the water causes heart disease…that the government is responsible for 9/11…that George Bush Sr. was present when Kennedy was killed…..and he quoted authors, books, referred to dates, historic documents………Holy Cow! What a fascinating mind…and weird. He reminded me of some of my high functioning autistic students who have obsessions about things. Does all his research in the library and interviews authors/scientists. Not into computers…because he must know we are all watched and monitored CONSTANTLY when we use computers. After I listened to him for an hour, Mom came over and asked if I wanted to sit with Dad at the table for a while. It took me FIVE minutes to maneuver myself into the dining room because this fella continued talking. Whew! He’s recently retired from South Dakota…helping his mom because his brother in Colorado is too busy caring for his own wife…so the newly retired brother was told to “go take care of mom.”

Yesterday I overheard a husband visiting his wife. The wife was speaking loudly. “When I get home, I better find my bag of money!!” “You have a bag of money?” he asked. “Yes, and when I get home it all better be there.” “I think you’re dreaming,” he said.

Today an aide greeted a lady. “Hi, Martha. I’m going to take you to lunch.” “What?” “We’re going to the dining room now. It’s time for lunch.” “What for?” Martha asked. Boy, oh, boy…the behavior and conversations the staff here live with day in and day out.

Side notes: general concerns about mom and her short term memory issues: 3/26/15:

1. She fried some eggs today for breakfast. When we were at the bank an hour later I said something to the manager about mom fixing breakfast. She could not remember what we had for breakfast. “I know it wasn’t oatmeal.”

2. Mom thinks Dad believes he’ll be coming home today. He doesn’t talk.

3. When Mom makes a call, it is not unusual for her to have to dial the phone number 3 or 4 times.

4. She used a business card to make a call. Twenty minutes later she wanted to call again, but could not find the card. She/we looked everywhere in the area where she was when she made the call. Happens to me, but I give up after a few minutes. She spent 45 minutes repeatedly checking her purse and all its contents.

5. When checking mail, she has some difficulty determining what different mail is. She can usually tell junk mail…but I walk her through looking at each piece and we review what it is and what to do with it.

6. When we left the bank today, she said, “You know, it used to be that banks gave you bank books to use…with checks in them.” I told her they still do. She claimed she hadn’t seen one in a long time. I reminded her that we wrote a check yesterday and that we organized bank books together. She wasn’t convinced, so I told her I’d show her the banking things when we get home.

7. Each day she pleads with Dad to be more active with physical therapy…to try harder so he can come home. “Don’t you want to come home?” He just looks at her. She cries.

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Parental Journal 03 from Planet Elderly: From Hospital to Rehab

Posted on July 9, 2015 by Jenny Mummert

Parental Journal Monday March 23, 2015 evening

Mom and I had a conference today to discuss Dad’s discharge from the rehab section of where he is now. She has vacillated between getting him home and keeping him at the Village. She’s been hearing for a while that she’s too frail…it’s not safe for Victor or her…etc. Honestly, she hates being reminded…but the message sank in. She agreed on a transition period into their skilled nursing section. There is no long term commitment and he can be there week to week or month to month…whatever she’s comfortable with. So she chose week to week and it begins this Thursday. His long term care will be extremely expensive, but they can manage it.

I was kind of dreading waking up today and finding her upset…crying downstairs. Turns out I woke up first and she slept soundly until I went to check in on her at 7. She was cheerful…and when we had our light breakfast she asked, “So what do you have planned for today?” I reminded her of the meetings and she got ready to go. We drove slowly through a spring snow and she was fine the whole way.

We had our morning meeting with a caseworker and a staff person. They explained care options and we took a tour of different areas. Then we spent some time with Dad. We took him to his room and it was so sweet. Mom leaned toward him and said, “Victor, I have to talk to you.” She explained that she had to make a decision and wanted to know what he wanted. He just looked at her. She cried a lot and at one point he asked, “Why are you crying?” She told him…and there was little reaction. She tried explaining to him that she was “just too small” to take full care of him. She stroked his hand…kissed his cheek…asked if he liked it there, and all he did was give a slight shrug. Basically he was unresponsive to her inquiries, but he tuned in to her distress and tears. That was touching to watch.

Relaxing in the visiting area.

Relaxing in the visiting area.

She sat with him at the dining table during lunch and then we had the afternoon conference. I was glad to be there because in the morning I had her sit next to me and we wrote questions we would like to ask at the meeting. At the meeting, I shared her/our questions: Will he be able to come home or will he have to stay here? If he has to stay here, can she stay with him? If he comes home, does he need a hospital bed? Is he capable of getting in and out of bed by himself? (my question) Can he walk with a walker? (my question)…etc. So we took time to think of questions that would help her decide what to do. It was kinda funny because at one point I was the one who cried a bit as I explained that one of her priorities was to be with him as much as possible.

Previous to the meeting Mom and I visited about options. It was a good conversation about how nice it would be to continue with the current routine if Dad has to stay there. It’s close. She knows how to get there. She can visit with him whenever she wants. She knows he’s safe. She’s in the home she enjoys.

After the meeting we said goodbye to Dad who was sound asleep in his bed. We went home very hungry and ate a lot of angel hair pasta. Then we worked a bit more on organizing some paperwork.  The paperwork is madness…boxes and boxes and envelope upon envelope of old statements…reports, etc. We plan to take a bit each day and purge with the shredder. Then we will set up a filing system for current things. She is sooooo ready to get rid of any stuff she does not need to have. Oh…those old accountants like my dad. They saved and recorded every fart practically.

I also told Mom that the college will arrange for a substitute for me, so I do not need to go back to Columbia by a certain date. It was like the weight of the world was lifted. I told her I wanted to help her get organized and to make sure she can manage comfortably.
The sad thing is that she is having a difficult time in general “managing.” She will ask me several times what day it is. She showed me a pair of shoes and asked if they were mine. I said no. Then she assumed they must be hers. She goes upstairs to do one thing and gets lost looking through envelopes and drawers…easily distracted from one thing to another. She’s been saying she needs to get her eyes examined…so we agreed that today she would call for an appointment. Then she checked the calendar and has an appointment already set up in April. She’s been having people at the bank write checks for her to sign. She’s afraid of writing down the wrong amount or misspelling a word, especially numbers in word form. Lots of confusion about many, many things. I have major concerns about her ability to keep track of stuff. She’s managing for now…but with assistance.

She’s happy to have me do all the driving in my car. She’s my guide…although she has steered me down the wrong road a few times…..and apologized. So many things are becoming confusing for her…so I observe and make notations. First…we ease into Dad’s next location and see how she does with that. I have already shared with her my concerns about her forgetfulness, and she took it pretty well. Then she kids me when she finds stuff….”See! I’m not losing my mind all the time.” We laugh. Good to laugh now because I know that I will only see her decline bit by bit. So it’s one day at a time; enjoying our time together while we can. Her confusion is heartbreaking.

The good news is that we’re getting along like great pals…and what a gift that is.

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Parental Journal 01 and 02 from Planet Elderly: Apprenticeship Begins

Posted on July 7, 2015 by Jenny Mummert

This is the year I’m involved in a genuine apprenticeship on Planet Elderly.  I gave up a part-time community college teaching assignment in order to be on call if/when my elderly parents need my assistance.  They live in the NW suburbs of the Chicago area.

Dad is 93 and in a facility.  He has Alzheimer’s.  Mom has been his caretaker for years…although she has never acknowledged there were issues with Dad’s cognitive functioning until this year.  She is almost 89 and lives independently.  She is showing some signs of short-term memory loss and confusion, especially when it comes to things she’s never had to deal with:  bills, bank statements, etc.  Otherwise, she’s managing pretty well most of the time, except for the guilt she feels in having her husband of 60 years in a facility.

I am an only child who lives 400 miles away from  my parents.  For now we are managing with me making frequent visits while still trying to hang on to my life in Missouri.

I’ve been keeping a “parental journal.”  It helps me record a bit of family history, and it helps me sort through rational and irrational thoughts and emotions.   I’ve shared the journal entries with a few close friends and family via email attachments.

Since our family situation is so very common, I’ve decided to post the journal entries on this blog.

The population of elderly with dementia related illnesses is suppose to increase exponentially in the near future.  We better hang on to our hats.  It’s gonna be quite a ride.

Parental Journal entries 01 and 02 are copied below:

Parental Journal 01 Sat. 3/21/15 4 a.m.

Arrived yesterday at 2. Mom thanked me for coming. Made her dinner and we put some bank statements in order. She wants to have Dad at home.

Observations: She is very tired; said it feels as if she’s in a fog; too much to keep up with. Little food in the fridge….5 pizzas and a few other things in the freezer. We’re making a list of things to get at the store. She feels she’s letting things go too much. She tries to see Dad every day…then brings home his dirty clothes, washes them, irons them,and returns them the next day. Old lettuce and rotting carrots in the fridge. She thought we could use the carrots, but I said I didn’t think it would be safe; she threw them out.  She hates throwing food away.

Said she could not find the charger to the cell phone. This has happened before. She wondered what Dad did with it.

She brought down Dad’s three wallets and went through the contents. He had old receipts and she agreed it was okay to purge them. She wants to keep the wallets for him; said he always wanted to know, “Where’s my money?” She did not want to get rid of anything he might need. I just helped confirm that the little receipts she found were from 2013 and she agreed that they did not need to be kept.

She was concerned about the car and house insurance. She didn’t know if they were paid. She called the agent and he confirmed that they were paid in full for the year. I asked how they were paid if she didn’t pay them; she was convinced Dad paid them. With her permission I called the agent back. He looked up the record…paid by Mom in January. The agent said he had not seen dad in a couple years.

Plans for Sat: Stop at the bank to confirm account information; visit Dad; do some grocery shopping.

Parental Journal 02 – Sat. March 21, 2015

Pleasant day overall. We visited banks to get basic information; then went to visit Dad. He did not say my name. He responded minimally. He was most active at lunch and can still feed himself. We ate with him in the dining area, which was interesting because I was able to observe staff serving and helping guests. Several did not want to eat so they were coaxed with items like pudding, ice cream…something at least. Others kept falling asleep. Many were dementia patients.

Here’s a note for any lady feeling like she’d like some male company: visit a skilled nursing facility. When we arrived, a man who is assigned to usually have meals with my dad watched mom and me as we greeted dad in the commons area and tried to engage him in some sort of conversation. The man kept smiling, so finally I just said, “Hello.” An aide came over to him with apple juice. He said he didn’t want it. He wanted a beer. “No beers,” she said. “A beer and a bourbon chaser,” he replied…then he chuckled. He finally took a sip and the aide left him with instructions to finish it. He smiled at me again and asked, “Are you married?” I said, “No.” “Well, you will be by the time I leave here,” he replied. Then he wheeled himself over…very close to where I was sitting. I asked his name. Tom. He asked mine. Jenny. Said he liked the name. Then he told me he wanted his Cadillac back. He’s had 14…never a problem with any of them. He was also a musician. Told him I played the violin in my youth. “Why did you give it up????!!!!” Said I have plans to play it again…and the ukulele. He was happy to learn that. I kept coaxing him to finish the apple juice and he worked at it. When he had just a bit left, I suggested, “Down the hatch!” and he complied. Before he could propose marriage, he was whisked away to the dining room. Mom wheeled dad…but because there were three of us, we could not join Tom for lunch and he ate alone. Mom said that when dad and Tom eat together no one talks. Well…my dad doesn’t not initiate conversation. He can’t hear.

I was so struck by my mom’s attentiveness. She flutters around dad…greets him by kissing his hand and his beautiful hair. She tells him she loves him very much…then she cries a bit. I cried a bit, too. He has declined so much in three month’s time but I am not surprised. She believes she must see him every day…even for just a little bit, and I told her we would do that.

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A lady at one of the banks was very helpful. Knows my mom so well that they greet each other with hugs. She’s been helping my mom with some check writing. She has a mother in her 90s who has moderate dementia. She explained different options to my mom…and definitely agreed that Mom should take the various accounts and consolidate them. Dad can no longer manage any money, so there’s no reason for him to have his own accounts.  We’ll visit with the banker lady again on Tuesday.

Mom still thinks someone is paying bills. I reminded her that the banks show her signature on the checks written. She got a bit loud and angry, “So do you think I’m losing my mind?” I assured her that there’s a lot going on and anyone can get confused. “Well, do you see me doing crazy things?” I assured her that I did not see her doing crazy things…..but “I notice that you repeat things often…and forget a few things now and then.” No response.

We sat down to dinner and ate salads.

It’s now almost 7 p.m. She’s upstairs mending dad’s pants. I’m doing a bit of journal time.
How wonderful it must be to still feel love for someone after 62 years together. That is unimaginable to me. It is a tribute to them both. I remember the good times…and the occasional loud arguments…but isn’t it wonderful to witness two who have weathered the ups and downs for so long and still feel tenderness toward each other?

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Thanksgiving Kudos to Amtrak

Posted on November 26, 2010 by Jenny Mummert

I decided to take Amtrak this Thanksgiving rather than fly. Glad I did.

Typically, I would drive from Columbia, MO to St. Louis. Then I’d take Southwest Airlines to Midway Airport in Chicago.
Then I’d get a shuttle to Union Station. Finally, I would take the Metra from Union Station to Grayslake, IL where my 84-year-old mother would pick me up. Even though the flight would only be about an hour, the whole trip would take about 8 hours, what with waiting and connections and all.

One can make the drive in 8 hours…but I’m done doing that as a one-day solo trip.

Instead, yesterday I drove from Columbia, MO to LaPlata, MO where there’s an Amtrak station. As luck would have it, the train was on time. The seat was roomy, the staff were friendly, and it was only about a 5 hour ride … smooth as silk. I totally relaxed…something I would not be able to do driving or flying. I even napped a bit – a rarity for me when in a moving vehicle of any kind. We arrived at Union Station, I obtained my Metra ticket, and before I knew it, I was on the 4:40 p.m. Metra train. I arrived in Grayslake at 5:43 p.m., just in time for a pot roast dinner.

I know Amtrak experiences delays, some passengers can be annoying or neglect to manage noisy/annoying children, sometimes staff have reached their limits with rude customers, and acts of nature can create havoc. All I know is that this trip to my folks’ place was totally stress free and easy.

If anyone needs to travel not too terribly far – 500 miles or less – and isn’t in a hurry, then get on board Amtrak and relax.

Kudos to Amtrak for a great Thanksgiving travel experience to my folks’ place. I’m hoping the trip back to Missouri Monday will be just as pleasant.

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Encounter with Italian Chef

Posted on August 22, 2009 by Jenny Mummert

Aug. 12, 2009 – Chef Encounter

 

So I was taking the 10:30 p.m. Chicago Metra from Union Station to Grayslake, IL  and one of the last passengers to get on was a man who sat in front of me.  He swung a big black satchel onto the aisle portion of his seat and gave a heavy sigh as he sat next to the window.  He was on the phone immediately, and I overheard him leave a message that his back was killing him and to please call him.  He spoke with an accent, and I thought maybe he was Russian.  Then he made two other calls and spoke in another language.  Five minutes passed and no one called him back.  Probably a mechanic, I thought.  Maybe someone who works in a factory.  He groaned and sighed several times and kept checking his phone.

 

I was sitting behind him with an unopened bottle of Motrin.  (Thought I’d maybe need some, so Jen and I stopped by D & H Drugs on the way to the bus station in Columbia, MO where I was to board the Mega Bus.)  My first instinct was to offer him some Motrin…but I was hesitant.  He made a second round of calls…wanting someone to be at his destination to pick him up and again stating his back was killing him.  Again, no one called him back.

 

I finally offered him some Motrin and he was completely taken by surprise.  “What kind of an angel from Heaven are you?” he asked.  We introduced ourselves, I helped him open the bottle, and I insisted that he take three.  Can’t remember his name, but I learned that he was a chef at an Italian restaurant in downtown Chicago.  Born in Venezuela; raised in southern Italy; formally trained as a chef—not a job he picked up once in the U.S., he stressed.  Forty-seven years old.

 

Then I heard all about how his boss was trying to cheat him, but that he was asked to be the chef for a new restaurant opening next door.  I think he said it was “Sprouts.”  They’ll focus on using fresh, organic ingredients.  He’ll also get a nice pay raise. 

 

He claimed Hispanics were ruining the jobs for everyone else because a restaurant owner could pay an Hispanic chef (and not a real one, at that) $30,000/year instead of $65,000 for someone like him.  But he preferred to have Hispanics in his kitchen doing the dishes.  He said Whites and Blacks are too lazy, while Hispanics are humble, glad to have a job.

 

Wish I had had my video camera with me, and filmed him.  He was so expressive when he spoke – huge hand and arm gestures, thick, bushy eyebrows leaping up and down, eyes shifting left and right…shoulders that moved with the eyebrows.  

 

Too many mean people in Chicago, he claimed.  Everybody was out to cheat everybody else.  Nice people (“like you”) are rare.  Told me about how drinks are always watered down after the first round….claimed that the personal habits of untrained chefs created health hazards…(“disgusting Mexicans”), knew of instances when pork was pounded and  served as veal. 

 

I told him I have a friend who would love to go to Tuscany.  He dismissed Tuscany with a huge wave of his right arm.  Big mistake.  Everybody’s waiting there to over charge tourists.  Best to go visit Naples and the surrounding areas.  Nicer people; better food; more to do.  I asked which was less expensive to visit and he said Naples.  I also learned that Italians don’t go out to eat Italian food.  They make the best at home…so when they typically go out, it’s for something special, like seafood—something the women of the house don’t fix or don’t want to fix. 

 

I told him about my dad’s father who came from southern Italy, and how one time he made homemade ravioli at our home in Skokie.  He mentioned how the pasta machines make that easier these days and I told him the ravioli was handmade – no pasta machines.  “You mean, he rolled the dough out like this [huge arm motion gestures] and rolled it this thin [small index/thumb gesture] ??!!”   “Yep.”    He was impressed.  Then we compared our ravioli recipe fillings—which I use mostly for lasagna or stuffed pasta shells.  Was happy to know I was right on target with the chef.

 

He informed me that his satchel contained a huge lump of pizza dough because he’s making pizza for a friend’s party the next day.  An easy hundred or so—cash.  But it’s oh….so heavy to lug around.

 

We were both getting off at Greyslake.  His wife was in N.Y. and he had been trying to reach his son to tell him he needed a ride.  Then he asked if my mom and I would give him a ride if he needed it.  I said sure.  Of course, in the back of my mind I was  trying to calculate how I would explain this person to my mom.   He called home again and got through.  His son promised to pick him up, so it turned out we didn’t need to give him a ride home. 

 

It was after 11:30 p.m. when we arrived at Grayslake.  One of the train’s personnel was standing at the bottom of the steps as I was trying to lug my suitcase off the train, and it’s a good thing.  The first two steps were fine.  The last step onto the pavement was a deeper step and I went flying into the arms of the train person.  He was there to catch me.  The chef was right behind me and started shouting, “Oh…Oh….Are you alright???!!!”

I got my bearings, assured him I was fine, and looked up to see my mom approaching.

She was there to witness me getting a grateful hung from the chef and and brief kiss on the right cheek.  As we went our separate ways, I smiled and called out “Ciao!”

 

My mom greeted me with a big smile and a hug.  Then she couldn’t resist commenting me about picking up a strange man on the train.  “I saw him kiss you!” she joked.

“Just a stranger with back pain….so I offered him some Motrin.” 

 

“Well, that was nice,” she said.

 

So maybe there are better deals to be had in Naples, Italy.  Something to google.

 

 

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