Into the Depths

This one is hard to write.

Small consolation that I'm sitting in 8th & Roast, sipping a latte.  By coincidence, or not a coincidence at all, I'm in the same seat or maybe a seat or two away from where I was when I originally posted about moving my mom to Maristone.  Strange, for sure, but that's simply where things are right now.

I am supposed to be on a flight to Vegas right now, for my annual trip with my law partner, Mark and Chas, and assorted friends, to watch the first 2 rounds of the NCAA basketball tournament.  We look forward to the trip all year as a reward, of sorts, for how hard we work - together - and as a bit of a celebration of what we have built - also together - over the last 20 years.

After speaking at length last night with my sister, Tracy, and one of my mom's best friends, Patti Sparks, I realized I could not, in good conscience, fly out of Nashville this morning for 4 days and nights of fun.  It wouldn't be fair to Tracy and Alice and, in truth, it wouldn't be fair to my mom.

I was in the middle of mediating a case yesterday when Tracy texted me, apologized for the interruption, and asked me to call her.  At a break, I did, and she told me that Hertha Hines (the Community Relations Director at NHC and our main point of contact there) has just told her that mom couldn't stay at Aspen Arbor any longer.  To put it succinctly, Hertha said that her physical condition had declined to the point that the staff couldn't safely care for her.  Hertha suggested moving mom to the Courtyard or upstairs to long-term care.

As I stood outside the back door of my office in Franklin, shivering in unseasonably cold March weather, I struggled to find my equilibrium and process what Tracy was telling me.  Part of my mind was on the mediation inside my office, where the parties were waiting on me, and the rest of my mind, and all of my heart, were with my mom.  I got off the telephone with Tracy, went back inside my office, put on a happy face (which I seem to do quite a bit lately) and helped the parties settle their case a few hours later.

After the mediation was over, I called Hertha Hines a couple of times, left messages, and rushed over to NHC to try and get there before she left.  I wanted her to give me a tour of the units where she was recommending we move my mom and let me see a couple of rooms.  At that point, I felt like I needed to see for myself where she likely would be moving before I could make participate meaningfully in making the best decision for her.  All while trying to pack and head out of town this morning.

As I met with Hertha and got the tour I requested, my emotions were conflicted.  Questions bounced haphazardly in my head.

Was a move being recommended for my mom so NHC could charge her more money per month?  Both of the units there were recommending are almost twice as expensive as where she is now.  In other words, was it a money grab?

Was a move being recommended for my mom because I had sent an e-mail to her - one that was not responded to - a week or so ago asking again when a new activities director was going to be hired for Aspen Arbor?

Was a move being recommended for my mom because Tracy had been working with Hertha Hines to get a hospital bed put in my mom's room to encourage her to lay down and allow the pressure ulcer to heal?

Did the staff at Aspen Arbor just not want to deal with my mom any longer?  Were they being lazy?

I was (and am) a bit suspicious, skeptical and, sadly, a bit cynical.  Part of that, I think, is a product of being a lawyer for 25 years.

I walked into Aspen Arbor to visit my mom and give her a chocolate chip cookie I picked up for her at Frothy Monkey that morning.  She was sitting, in her wheelchair, interacting with 4 other ladies at a table who were finishing dinner.  She looked up and smiled when she saw me, the reached out and stroked my goatee.

"You need to shave," she said.  I laughed.  A couple of the other ladies at the table that I know laughed too, and fussed over me and the fact that I was visiting my mom.  I wheeled her into her room and we looked out her window - at a beautiful mid-March evening - and watched the birds flitting on and off the bird feeder Tracy set up a few weeks ago.  It was a peaceful yet melancholy moment.  I knew what was coming.  My mom had no idea.

We said in silence for a moment or two, like a couple of old friends, content with each other's company.  Just watching the birds.

My mom said, "I wonder how many birds there are out there?"

"Thousands," I replied.

"I bet you're right," she said.

Then, more silence.  A good kind of silence.

I told her goodbye, kissed her on the top of her head, and walked out of her room for one of the last times before we move her.

On the way out, I stopped to talk to Amber, one of the caregivers I like and really appreciate.  I wanted to talk with her and get an unvarnished opinion of what was best for my mom.  I wanted that opinion from someone who is not part of the management team at NHC, someone with no - or at least not as much of - an agenda.

Strikingly, Amber seemed almost relieved when I asked her about my mom.  There was a look in her eyes like she had been waiting for one of us to ask her what she thought.  What I learned from her was not entirely unexpected but it was still very difficult to hear.

The staff can't at Aspen Arbor can't properly care for my mom anymore.  It takes two, sometime three of them to transfer her to the bathroom.  She's completely incontinent.  She can't walk and her leg is so contracted she will never walk again.  Wanda, my favorite caregiver at Aspen Arbor and a 17-year NHC employee, hurt her shoulder - not seriously - trying to transfer my mom to the bathroom over the weekend.  Lastly, my mom is, by far, the least functional resident of Aspen Arbor, from a physical standpoint.

There it was, the straight dope.  Fuck, it was hard to hear.

On the way home, I called my friend, Mike Matteson, whose stepmother has been a resident of the Courtyard for many years.  He sent me a helpful text later.  I talked to Jude when I got home.  To close the circle, I went for a long walk after the boys were in bed.  I called Patti Sparks and my sister, Tracy.

We're going to move her to the Courtyard.  I have some reservations about it but it's the best things for her, overall, I think.  And hope.

As I talked to Tracy last night, I realized I wouldn't feel right going to Vegas.  There's too much going on here with my mom.  Too much to do.  I need to help prepare her for the move and get her new room ready for her.  I need to be here when my mom melts down, in a state of confusion, as I knew she will when we move her.  I can't leave that all on Tracy.

After I finished my call with Tracy and started to walk home, in the cold, I felt better.  Less guilt and planning to occupy mind.

I wish there was something to occupy my broken heart.