Tomorrow I will be meeting with my mother and brother for an intervention of sorts. Everyone who knows my mother is convinced that she is in serious need of extra help in the house. She is alone for 18 hours each day and the most frightening part of it is that she cooks on a gas stove and takes a shower BY HERSELF! She always insists that she's fine with these parts of her life, but considering her failing eyesight and forgetfulness of increasing magnitude we are all convinced that these are ingredients in a recipe for disaster.
So, tomorrow my brother and I will try to sweeten this monumental change in our fiercely independent mother's life by making it sound like she probably could use a "visit" from someone a few times a week. In actuality, I believe that if only my brother would "visit" and really help out, this change in her life could be postponed, but I am going onto a tangent that probably needs another blog! So, herein lies the dilemma--how do we sugarcoat this talk? Our mother is not stupid, nor is she completely demented--she will completely understand what we're proposing.
She will know that this is yet another step in lost independence and she will probably get very angry. How do we manage to get her the help that she needs in order to be safe, without pulling the rug out from underneath her and take away her will to live?
I am convinced that we need to do this, I just pray for divine intervention in guiding me to be patient and strong. Somehow when I needed to have these traits as a mother or teacher, I found them easily accessible to me--there was always an inside voice that helped guide me through the process. I seek that voice now, but it often alludes me--being a parent to a parent is not for the weak!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Not the SAT
Okay, when I was a student, I almost always did really well on tests. Even when the teacher/ professor decided to give us a "pop quiz" I was ready. I always did my homework, paid attention in class, and generally was a goodie two shoes who teachers loved. My test results were generally no surprise, and I felt really confident that my results would correspond directly to both my understanding of the material and my hard work.
Today, though, I faced a test that I never took in school. It was the test of patience and forebearance-- I failed it badly. Not one to ever be satisfied with an "F", or even a "D" or "C", for that matter, I am now trying to understand what happened. The crux of the issue was based on a piece of mail that probably came to my mother at least 10 days ago regarding her eligibility for "Access-A-Ride"--the most important cog in her transportation puzzle. She needs to fulfill a few requirements such as a doctor's appointment, a passport picture and an evaluation by the city of New York in order to continue her ridership. We have discussed this many times and were awaiting the arrival of this important piece of mail.
Today, I found that the important mail had come at least 10 days ago, with an appointment set for this Tuesday with the city. The passport picture had not been taken, the doctor's paperwork was not accomplished and she would be unable to get to the appointment on the correct day.
Now, I know what you're thinking--why hasn't this daughter taken charge and made the appropriate appointments, had the pictures taken, etc.. You would be right, except, and, wait for it.... Mom INSISTED that she and her male friend need to do all of this, and that she would not want me intefering. So, I didn't interfere, but when I saw the letter from the City, I started asking the important questions. That's when I failed the test.
Mom became so angry that I hadn't taken care of everything, and that I was questioning her, that she began yelling at me, and poking me in the arm. She wanted me to understand that she has a medical problem--her eyes-- and can't do everything for herself. This is where I lost it!!
I have been begging her to accept some help in the house with paperwork and other things that I can't get to while living 50 miles away and she has consistently refused. But, today, she was screaming at me for not understanding that she needs help with such things. Something inside me just snapped-- I tried calming her down, but she wouldn't listen or stop her tirade--she wanted me to "fix" the problem and of course, today is a Saturday so I couldn't do anything.
I tried to explain that she had asked me not to interfere, but that fell on deaf ears and more yelling ensued. If I hadn't retreated to the bathroom things might have really gotten ugly.
We really resolved nothing, except taking the passport pictures and deferring a solution to the problem until the next business day, and her male friend's intervention.
So, I give myself an "F" in coping, and calming the dementia in my dear sweet, almost 85 year old mother. I neither fixed the problem nor had an easy time of the visit. I am encumbered by the problems of her need to remain independent, and her inability to do so. I know where this is leading--either insisting on 24 hour in house help, or committing her against her will to a nursing home. She really isn't rational a lot of the time, and she's dangerous to herself. Her fridge is full of molding food that she refuses to throw away. I had to quickly ditch spoiled things while she was busy somewhere else in order to save her from herself. Yet, I think there must be a more calming way to accomplish all of this. I am stymied by my own poor grade, and wish that next time I could study in the old fashioned way to get a better score.
Today, though, I faced a test that I never took in school. It was the test of patience and forebearance-- I failed it badly. Not one to ever be satisfied with an "F", or even a "D" or "C", for that matter, I am now trying to understand what happened. The crux of the issue was based on a piece of mail that probably came to my mother at least 10 days ago regarding her eligibility for "Access-A-Ride"--the most important cog in her transportation puzzle. She needs to fulfill a few requirements such as a doctor's appointment, a passport picture and an evaluation by the city of New York in order to continue her ridership. We have discussed this many times and were awaiting the arrival of this important piece of mail.
Today, I found that the important mail had come at least 10 days ago, with an appointment set for this Tuesday with the city. The passport picture had not been taken, the doctor's paperwork was not accomplished and she would be unable to get to the appointment on the correct day.
Now, I know what you're thinking--why hasn't this daughter taken charge and made the appropriate appointments, had the pictures taken, etc.. You would be right, except, and, wait for it.... Mom INSISTED that she and her male friend need to do all of this, and that she would not want me intefering. So, I didn't interfere, but when I saw the letter from the City, I started asking the important questions. That's when I failed the test.
Mom became so angry that I hadn't taken care of everything, and that I was questioning her, that she began yelling at me, and poking me in the arm. She wanted me to understand that she has a medical problem--her eyes-- and can't do everything for herself. This is where I lost it!!
I have been begging her to accept some help in the house with paperwork and other things that I can't get to while living 50 miles away and she has consistently refused. But, today, she was screaming at me for not understanding that she needs help with such things. Something inside me just snapped-- I tried calming her down, but she wouldn't listen or stop her tirade--she wanted me to "fix" the problem and of course, today is a Saturday so I couldn't do anything.
I tried to explain that she had asked me not to interfere, but that fell on deaf ears and more yelling ensued. If I hadn't retreated to the bathroom things might have really gotten ugly.
We really resolved nothing, except taking the passport pictures and deferring a solution to the problem until the next business day, and her male friend's intervention.
So, I give myself an "F" in coping, and calming the dementia in my dear sweet, almost 85 year old mother. I neither fixed the problem nor had an easy time of the visit. I am encumbered by the problems of her need to remain independent, and her inability to do so. I know where this is leading--either insisting on 24 hour in house help, or committing her against her will to a nursing home. She really isn't rational a lot of the time, and she's dangerous to herself. Her fridge is full of molding food that she refuses to throw away. I had to quickly ditch spoiled things while she was busy somewhere else in order to save her from herself. Yet, I think there must be a more calming way to accomplish all of this. I am stymied by my own poor grade, and wish that next time I could study in the old fashioned way to get a better score.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
The Perennial Catch-22
When we talk to lucid people we often forget that there are "rules of engagement". Those rules generally follow the pattern that previous conversations have been archived in our respective memories, and can be recalled when necessary for reference in new conversations. This, however, does not happen when we speak to a person with dementia.
There have been literally 50 discussions with Mom about changing the way she manages her finances. We ( the entire family) have encouraged those changes through the last 5 years, in order to protect Mom's assets ( meager as they are) if she should need nursing home care. My brother and I have also met with Mom and her attorney in order to advise her of her options. Today, the subject came up again, and the options were discussed. I assumed that there would be some glimmer of recollection from all the previous conversations. Never, never, never assume anything when you are speaking to someone with dementia!!!! Mom asked for the explanation of the options, and then proceeded to tell me that nobody ever explained this to her before, and that now she would need to think about the choices before anything could be done. This would sound reasonable if not for the fact that 5 minutes earlier, she had told us that she was just waiting for my brother and myself to tell her which day we wanted to take care of the finances!!
I am generally a very patient person--just ask my husband and people who have watched me teach--but patience, has it's limits. I do not know how to get past this Catch-22. Nothing will ever get done if every time we discuss this, or other important issues, Mom is believing that she's hearing it for the first time, when in actuality it's really the 10th or 50th time. We cannot move forward on any decision without her consent ( nor would we want to). We are trying to act in her best interests, and are completely stymied by the fact that every conversation with Mom is a new one. My patience is being tested every time I see my dear, sweet Mother. My heart is wrenched beyond its limits and there's no analgesic for this pain.
There have been literally 50 discussions with Mom about changing the way she manages her finances. We ( the entire family) have encouraged those changes through the last 5 years, in order to protect Mom's assets ( meager as they are) if she should need nursing home care. My brother and I have also met with Mom and her attorney in order to advise her of her options. Today, the subject came up again, and the options were discussed. I assumed that there would be some glimmer of recollection from all the previous conversations. Never, never, never assume anything when you are speaking to someone with dementia!!!! Mom asked for the explanation of the options, and then proceeded to tell me that nobody ever explained this to her before, and that now she would need to think about the choices before anything could be done. This would sound reasonable if not for the fact that 5 minutes earlier, she had told us that she was just waiting for my brother and myself to tell her which day we wanted to take care of the finances!!
I am generally a very patient person--just ask my husband and people who have watched me teach--but patience, has it's limits. I do not know how to get past this Catch-22. Nothing will ever get done if every time we discuss this, or other important issues, Mom is believing that she's hearing it for the first time, when in actuality it's really the 10th or 50th time. We cannot move forward on any decision without her consent ( nor would we want to). We are trying to act in her best interests, and are completely stymied by the fact that every conversation with Mom is a new one. My patience is being tested every time I see my dear, sweet Mother. My heart is wrenched beyond its limits and there's no analgesic for this pain.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
I'm 58 but I'm scolded like a child
There is a pervasive sadness that follows me these days. I am often worried about Mom's safety, but also fearful of a new side of her personality--she now scolds me more often than I was ever scolded as a child. Here is a perfect snapshot of one such encounter:
Mom needed a small order of groceries and would not meet the minimum requirements of Peapod. We located a small grocery store in her neighborhood that would accommodate her needs. She needed to establish an account with them for her credit card and she set out to do that while shopping there, with her male friend. She had also given me the shopping list before this outing.
When I found out that she was planning to go there herself, I was so proud of her ability to be independent again, that I threw away the list--thinking I wouldn't need it.
Well, that turned out to be a giant mistake! She went to the store with her friend, but only opened the credit account and bought NOTHING!!! Then she called and asked me to place the order. When I explained that I no longer had the list, I was shouted at and scolded as if I were 10 years old--in fact, she never yelled at me like this, when I WAS 10 YEARS OLD!
Herein lies the problem I face each day-- at one moment Mom is perfectly logical and reasonable. At other times, she is angry, beligerent and mean-spirited, telling me that I'm not helping enough or equal to the help her male friend receives from his family. Honestly, I'm not in competition with his family, but they're not helping more, he just needs less help!
I used to love calling to talk to my mother. Now I fear each phone encounter--for I walk into a landmine, not knowing which personality will be on the other end! This person embodied in my mother is not the same loving, rational woman I used to know, yet she is housed in my mother's body--I know this will only get worse with time, and yet Mom continues to insist that she is managing completely on her own and won't accept additional help. HELP!!!!
Mom needed a small order of groceries and would not meet the minimum requirements of Peapod. We located a small grocery store in her neighborhood that would accommodate her needs. She needed to establish an account with them for her credit card and she set out to do that while shopping there, with her male friend. She had also given me the shopping list before this outing.
When I found out that she was planning to go there herself, I was so proud of her ability to be independent again, that I threw away the list--thinking I wouldn't need it.
Well, that turned out to be a giant mistake! She went to the store with her friend, but only opened the credit account and bought NOTHING!!! Then she called and asked me to place the order. When I explained that I no longer had the list, I was shouted at and scolded as if I were 10 years old--in fact, she never yelled at me like this, when I WAS 10 YEARS OLD!
Herein lies the problem I face each day-- at one moment Mom is perfectly logical and reasonable. At other times, she is angry, beligerent and mean-spirited, telling me that I'm not helping enough or equal to the help her male friend receives from his family. Honestly, I'm not in competition with his family, but they're not helping more, he just needs less help!
I used to love calling to talk to my mother. Now I fear each phone encounter--for I walk into a landmine, not knowing which personality will be on the other end! This person embodied in my mother is not the same loving, rational woman I used to know, yet she is housed in my mother's body--I know this will only get worse with time, and yet Mom continues to insist that she is managing completely on her own and won't accept additional help. HELP!!!!
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Story of the Toilet Paper
Okay, so I do a Peapod ( Stop and Shop online grocery shopping ) order for my Mom every 2 to 3 weeks. Generally this works out pretty well, except when something is left out of the order, or something is forgotten in the ordering process--namely, Mom calling me with her grocery list. So on this week, the grocery list included toilet paper, but not cereal. So---the groceries were delivered and all was well-- I always get a phone call when the groceries are delivered " Guess what??? the order just came!" She is always dumbfounded by the fact that groceries appear at her door after only a phone call to me.
Anyway, the next day I got a very troubled phone call asking me to please pick up 3 brands of cereal before my visit, because she is completely out of cereal. When I arrived with the 3 boxes of cereal, I found that there were already 6 boxes ( 2 of each kind) stored in a walk-in closet, rather than in the kitchen. There were also stacks of napkins, paper towels, toilet paper and cleansers in that closet, while she seemed surprised to see them there. This just helps to support the fears that if these things are forgotten in the closet, so are there things rotting in the refrigerator that have been forgotten, and who knows what else is falling by the wayside?
The next day, I received a frantic phone call stating that the grocery delivery had omitted the toilet paper--"What will I do??? I gently reminded her about the walk-in closet storage, and was told "You think I'm stupid?" I know what toilet paper looks like, and there is none there-- the grocery delivery omitted it!!" I really tried to circumvent the anger and refusal to even look in that walk-in closet, and just suggested that she look again in the morning. The next morning, I received a phone call stating that she had asked her male friend to bring toilet paper to the senior center for her. I know in my heart that she has at least 10 rolls of toilet paper in that closet, but now she is bartering for it at her senior center because she just will not look in that closet!!
Of course, you might say, what's the big deal?? And you might be right. I'm lucky to still have my mother; lucky to be able to visit her in a lovely apartment, rather than a hospital or nursing home, but the frequency of the angry or desperate phone calls sometimes dims that feeling of good fortune--sometimes it's just that the forgettfulness and stubborness paired with the calls for help are frustrating because there is no way to solve this!
Anyway, the next day I got a very troubled phone call asking me to please pick up 3 brands of cereal before my visit, because she is completely out of cereal. When I arrived with the 3 boxes of cereal, I found that there were already 6 boxes ( 2 of each kind) stored in a walk-in closet, rather than in the kitchen. There were also stacks of napkins, paper towels, toilet paper and cleansers in that closet, while she seemed surprised to see them there. This just helps to support the fears that if these things are forgotten in the closet, so are there things rotting in the refrigerator that have been forgotten, and who knows what else is falling by the wayside?
The next day, I received a frantic phone call stating that the grocery delivery had omitted the toilet paper--"What will I do??? I gently reminded her about the walk-in closet storage, and was told "You think I'm stupid?" I know what toilet paper looks like, and there is none there-- the grocery delivery omitted it!!" I really tried to circumvent the anger and refusal to even look in that walk-in closet, and just suggested that she look again in the morning. The next morning, I received a phone call stating that she had asked her male friend to bring toilet paper to the senior center for her. I know in my heart that she has at least 10 rolls of toilet paper in that closet, but now she is bartering for it at her senior center because she just will not look in that closet!!
Of course, you might say, what's the big deal?? And you might be right. I'm lucky to still have my mother; lucky to be able to visit her in a lovely apartment, rather than a hospital or nursing home, but the frequency of the angry or desperate phone calls sometimes dims that feeling of good fortune--sometimes it's just that the forgettfulness and stubborness paired with the calls for help are frustrating because there is no way to solve this!
Monday, March 16, 2009
Reversal of Roles
So this is the way it goes---Mom worked so hard at raising 2 children--my brother and myself. My dad was rarely home, working a job that required 6 days a week for 12 hour days. She was the rock of our life, and now that person no longer exists.
Mom is now 84 and suffers from macular degeneration and the early stages of dementia, but insists on living alone, while she's managing. Her notion of managing is not the same as mine--she believes that she is safe and taking care of her affairs, whilst I know the truth--she should not live alone any longer, and is barely getting by, with me ordering groceries, taking care of the bills and paperwork and saying daily prayers for her safety.
Not that I am angry about helping her, because I'm not, but I am balking at the lack of acceptance for much needed help, and the constant fear I have that she really is in danger and unwilling to accept the truth--more help is needed than I can provide while I live 48 miles away.
Mom is now 84 and suffers from macular degeneration and the early stages of dementia, but insists on living alone, while she's managing. Her notion of managing is not the same as mine--she believes that she is safe and taking care of her affairs, whilst I know the truth--she should not live alone any longer, and is barely getting by, with me ordering groceries, taking care of the bills and paperwork and saying daily prayers for her safety.
Not that I am angry about helping her, because I'm not, but I am balking at the lack of acceptance for much needed help, and the constant fear I have that she really is in danger and unwilling to accept the truth--more help is needed than I can provide while I live 48 miles away.
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