A Dose of Reality

This morning, Tracy and I met with some of the key players at NHC Place, at least as it relates to mom's care.  The purpose of the meeting was twofold.  First, we wanted to get a candid, professional assessment of how she is doing and, in truth, to get a feel for how long she'll be able to stay in the memory care unit.  Second, we had a few concerns about staff turnover, particularly at a few key positions.

As it relates to staff turnover, we've learned (and Tracy has reminded me) that it's inevitable at facilities like NHC Place and Maristone.  Many of the caregivers aren't well paid and there are new facilities being built every day to accommodate our aging population.  Staff leave for a variety of reasons - a couple more dollars per hour, to work closer to home, etc.  It happens.

I was more concerned that Sandy, the director of recreation in Aspen Arbor, had left and that no one had let us know she was leaving.  Sandy was and is amazing at what she does.  She has a rare gift in the sense that the is able to interact with the residents and encourage them to participate in activities and exercises without irritating them.  She is always upbeat, happy and smiling.  She really, really cares about the residents, which is readily apparent to anyone who watches her at work.  She's taken a new job and I wish her well, though I hate to see her go.

The folks we met with reassured us that a search is under way to replace Sandy and, more importantly, that replacing her is a priority.  That's what I wanted and needed to hear, because it's so important for my mom (and others) to participate in activities and interact with staff and each other.  It's too easy to let residents sit in their rooms and do nothing, which isn't good for them.

I'm rambling a bit, probably to avoid acknowledging what we learned in the meeting and already knew - that my mom's health is continuing to deteriorate.  She rarely leaves her wheelchair and almost never stands up.  She's incontinent and it's becoming more difficult for the staff to take her to the bathroom to clean her up because of her aversion to standing and the fact that she is so weak.  The director of nursing is concerned about "contraction" in her knees, because she so rarely stretches her legs, stands or walks.  It's heartbreaking, really, to hear and realize that this strong, independent woman who was 5'8" tall at her peak, athletic and capable of moving and helping patients at Baptist Hospital, can no longer stand or walk.

The director of nursing also has concerns about the inevitable break down of her skin that will occur because of the incontinence and her remaining in a sitting position virtually 24 hours a day.  She doesn't stand, she doesn't walk and she doesn't lie down.  In my mind, I see her gradually and inevitably turning into the tin woodman in the Wizard of Oz, after he was caught in the forest with no oil.  It makes me sad.

After the meeting, Tracy stopped in to see her.  I just couldn't, not today.  I sent her flowers and candy yesterday - Valenine's Day - and stopped by to see her on my way home from work.  I couldn't handle it today, though, not after the meeting this morning.  I needed some time to be along with my thoughts and to collect myself.

Tracy and I marveled, again, after the meeting that less than a year ago, at Maristone, my mom was walking to the elevator by herself - with a walker - for breakfast, dinner and lunch.  Then, we were concerned about her gait.  We wanted her to pick up her feet when she walked and not drag them on the carpet.  Those were the days, it seems.  Now, eight to ten months later, we're worried because she can't get out of her wheelchair.  Alzheimer's disease and, I guess, life in general for older people, is cruel and heartless.

If you read this blog because you are a friend of my mom's or if you know someone who is, and you want to see her, laugh with her and hug her one more time while she can still consciously do those things, I think it's probably time to think about visiting her.  When you see her a lot, like we do, it's easy to fool yourself and pretend that the decline is not as precipitous as it actually is and that there's more time to spend with her.  There's not.  It's finite and I think before too long, what's left of her personality will be extinguished, like a candle that finally burns down to nothing.

Now, it's time to put on a happy face and go to work.  I'm pretty good at hiding from others how hopeless and sad I feel because of what my mom's going through, but some days it's harder to do than others.  I think today is one of those days.