Friday, September 25, 2009
Sowing seeds
Just a quick report about the tour d' assisted living earlier this week. Of the three places we visited, St. Anne's Meade was the favorite. Surprisingly, she said they weren’t as bad as she thought they would be. While she claims she's not ready to move, she may never be ready. Baby steps. No move is imminent but at least seeds have been planted.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
This just in
During my mid-week phone conversation with Mom last night, she revealed that she braved the basement steps Wednesday, and that it was "a good thing I did because the laundry tubs were filthy!" (They didn't look "filthy" to me when I did a load of wash last Saturday, but maybe I was missing something.) She claims it was no problem for her to navigate the steps since there are hand rails on both sides of the stairs and the stair pitch isn't that great.
Dave reports that she also scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom floors because they were a mess, or so she says. It's curious how they can be a mess, given there's very little traffic in the house.
Dave reports that she also scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom floors because they were a mess, or so she says. It's curious how they can be a mess, given there's very little traffic in the house.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Having her best interests in mind
I made appointments for Mom and me to visit the three facilities she selected on September 22. We’re checking out Waltonwood on 13 Mile near Woodward, America House on Woodward Heights, and St. Anne’s Mead on 12 Mile. They’re all very different. Waltonwood is assisted living with three meals a day included with the monthly fee. While America House provides two meals a day, it’s not assisted living. Each unit has a small kitchen, and assistance type services are in addition to the monthly fee. Like Waltonwood, St. Anne’s features assisted living but also has a skilled nursing unit attached, so she wouldn’t have to move if she required that level of care.
On Saturday she got quite emotional when I talked to her about the upcoming field trips. She claims that everyone she knows who moved into assisted living regretted it. She doesn’t understand why we want her to leave her home, as she feels things are working out just fine. And in some ways, things are working out. She’s lined up someone to clean her house every other week, a physical therapist visits a couple times a week, Colleen does her laundry, Byron mows the lawn, she gets a ride to church, Sally takes her grocery shopping and to get her hair done. She’s wobbling around the house using the four-prong cane, manages to walk out to the mailbox, and seems to be feeding herself okay. I have to admit sometimes I wonder if we’re acting prematurely. But then she’ll do something that clearly shows she’s not firing on all cylinders. She’s more forgetful and redundant. And even with people coming and going, she’s alone most of the time. With physical therapy ending soon and winter quickly approaching, she’ll become increasingly isolated. She doesn’t view that as a problem, but it is. Not to mention maintaining the house and yard.
I try to put myself in her shoes. It's hard, it's traumatic. She’s lived in the house on Meadowlark for over 60 years, and has her routines which would be disrupted if she lived elsewhere. One thing that irritated her when she was in rehab was that the rehab staff dictated the schedule, not her. She was pretty upset when we talked, and said if we made her move to assisted living, she wouldn’t leave her room. It’s your choice, I told her.
One thing I also told her was that when my brothers and I were kids, there were occasions when we wanted to do something but she and Dad were aware of things we weren’t, and with our best interests in mind, didn’t allow us to do whatever it was (unfortunately I can’t think of a good example right now). I explained that the situation was similar now; that we were aware of things she wasn’t. She’s always resisted accepting my brothers and me as adults, and struggles to trust that we have her best interests in mind. If she could do that, she wouldn’t have to fight us so hard. But hell might freeze over first.
On Saturday she got quite emotional when I talked to her about the upcoming field trips. She claims that everyone she knows who moved into assisted living regretted it. She doesn’t understand why we want her to leave her home, as she feels things are working out just fine. And in some ways, things are working out. She’s lined up someone to clean her house every other week, a physical therapist visits a couple times a week, Colleen does her laundry, Byron mows the lawn, she gets a ride to church, Sally takes her grocery shopping and to get her hair done. She’s wobbling around the house using the four-prong cane, manages to walk out to the mailbox, and seems to be feeding herself okay. I have to admit sometimes I wonder if we’re acting prematurely. But then she’ll do something that clearly shows she’s not firing on all cylinders. She’s more forgetful and redundant. And even with people coming and going, she’s alone most of the time. With physical therapy ending soon and winter quickly approaching, she’ll become increasingly isolated. She doesn’t view that as a problem, but it is. Not to mention maintaining the house and yard.
I try to put myself in her shoes. It's hard, it's traumatic. She’s lived in the house on Meadowlark for over 60 years, and has her routines which would be disrupted if she lived elsewhere. One thing that irritated her when she was in rehab was that the rehab staff dictated the schedule, not her. She was pretty upset when we talked, and said if we made her move to assisted living, she wouldn’t leave her room. It’s your choice, I told her.
One thing I also told her was that when my brothers and I were kids, there were occasions when we wanted to do something but she and Dad were aware of things we weren’t, and with our best interests in mind, didn’t allow us to do whatever it was (unfortunately I can’t think of a good example right now). I explained that the situation was similar now; that we were aware of things she wasn’t. She’s always resisted accepting my brothers and me as adults, and struggles to trust that we have her best interests in mind. If she could do that, she wouldn’t have to fight us so hard. But hell might freeze over first.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Drawing parallels
I wasn’t sure how this past Saturday would go with Mom. Earlier in the week we had a somewhat contentious phone call, in which she said she would never go into assisted living, reiterating all the reasons she’s given thus far. When I reminded her that on the previous Saturday she said (and I quote), “I know I can’t stay in my house,” she was mum. I pictured her with her hackles up, looking bewildered. It’s so frustrating. One step forward, a half step back.
She had a busy week, with her brother Art and his son Ben visiting on Monday, and niece Tara and her daughter Andrea on Wednesday. They brought her some tasty morsels from Zingerman’s in Ann Arbor, which lasted her through the weekend. She also got her hair done (thanks, Sally, for taking her). Colleen continues to do an excellent job on her laundry, and the refrigerator was full.
Doris’ demise continued to be a large part of our conversation. Mom is upset that no family member was with her at the end, like she was with her sister Rose, their mother, and Rose's husband Sam. Apparently Doris just quit eating, which I understand is not that uncommon for elderly to do when they feel they've had enough. It's always haunted Mom that no one was with Dad when he took his last breath, but perhaps he, like many, needed to make that transition without people at his bedside. She seemed comforted by that idea.
We do a lot of talking when I visit, and even though I've heard most of the stories many times, there's often a new tidbit of information that is revealed. I was wondering how my Dad was exposed to polio back in November 1952, and Mom remembered that he had been on a shrubbery purchasing trip for the GM Tech Center the week prior to his symptoms manifesting. The trip was to Hinsdale, IL, about 25 miles west of Chicago. A little bit of research later revealed there was a big outbreak of polio in that part of Illinois in 1952. Pieces of the puzzle.
The conversation morphed into the stories of Otto being hospitalized and in the iron lung, and how their life changed, but they made it work. Drawing parallels to that -- a physical condition requiring some changes in life, but the changes worked out -- I drew her into conversation about assisted living. We went over a list of assisted living facilities from the Oakland County Senior Citizens Guide, and she chose three to visit. I can't say she did so enthusiastically, but she's clearly getting ready for a change in her life as evidenced by her giving away some of her teacups, offering the crystal she and her brother Art bought for their parents to Art's son Ben, and designating Colleen as the recipient of her china. Those actions, I think, are encouraging. I'm making appointments to visit the assisted living facilities she noted later this month.
No doubt when I talk to her later this week she'll be back to her "I'm not going" mode, but I'm optimistic if we can continue to couch this change in her life to other changes she's successfully experienced, she'll be less resistant. Fingers are crossed.
I was hoping to stay in Grand Rapids over the upcoming holiday weekend, but I don't want to stall the progress I feel we've been making so I'll be returning again on Saturday.
She had a busy week, with her brother Art and his son Ben visiting on Monday, and niece Tara and her daughter Andrea on Wednesday. They brought her some tasty morsels from Zingerman’s in Ann Arbor, which lasted her through the weekend. She also got her hair done (thanks, Sally, for taking her). Colleen continues to do an excellent job on her laundry, and the refrigerator was full.
Doris’ demise continued to be a large part of our conversation. Mom is upset that no family member was with her at the end, like she was with her sister Rose, their mother, and Rose's husband Sam. Apparently Doris just quit eating, which I understand is not that uncommon for elderly to do when they feel they've had enough. It's always haunted Mom that no one was with Dad when he took his last breath, but perhaps he, like many, needed to make that transition without people at his bedside. She seemed comforted by that idea.
We do a lot of talking when I visit, and even though I've heard most of the stories many times, there's often a new tidbit of information that is revealed. I was wondering how my Dad was exposed to polio back in November 1952, and Mom remembered that he had been on a shrubbery purchasing trip for the GM Tech Center the week prior to his symptoms manifesting. The trip was to Hinsdale, IL, about 25 miles west of Chicago. A little bit of research later revealed there was a big outbreak of polio in that part of Illinois in 1952. Pieces of the puzzle.
The conversation morphed into the stories of Otto being hospitalized and in the iron lung, and how their life changed, but they made it work. Drawing parallels to that -- a physical condition requiring some changes in life, but the changes worked out -- I drew her into conversation about assisted living. We went over a list of assisted living facilities from the Oakland County Senior Citizens Guide, and she chose three to visit. I can't say she did so enthusiastically, but she's clearly getting ready for a change in her life as evidenced by her giving away some of her teacups, offering the crystal she and her brother Art bought for their parents to Art's son Ben, and designating Colleen as the recipient of her china. Those actions, I think, are encouraging. I'm making appointments to visit the assisted living facilities she noted later this month.
No doubt when I talk to her later this week she'll be back to her "I'm not going" mode, but I'm optimistic if we can continue to couch this change in her life to other changes she's successfully experienced, she'll be less resistant. Fingers are crossed.
I was hoping to stay in Grand Rapids over the upcoming holiday weekend, but I don't want to stall the progress I feel we've been making so I'll be returning again on Saturday.
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