Robert A., you seem to be journeying this difficult path so beautifully ... kudos. Kudos and prayers for both journeyers.
The Zappa Next Generation (and one next-next gen) all "met" (two of us by tele-link) with medical staff and a social worker at the respite/assessment facility. Mrs Zappa was present and fiercely lucid, and gave the medicos and social worker a fair bollocking.
Psychologically it was quite ambivalent for me: she was a tyrant of a mother when I was young and I found myself by turns amused, bemused and empathetically terrified as she ripped the staff apart. Her retorts were of the "Young man, I think I know how to look after myself" variety, to which his reply "but do you / have you thought of x y z" were met with withering glares I could feel down the telephone and searing argument clinchers of the "I've been managing since before your grandmother was born" variety.
My sister tried valiantly to point out some of the countless ways in which Mrs Z is in fact not coping, only to be forcefully corrected with "well that's not true" parries. My brother launched into the "anything my mother says is right and she is amazing and wonderful" mode. I sat on my phone stuttering like a stunned mullet (possibly an antipodean expression?). I did try to point out that it is sheer fluke that the many times she has fallen have not ended with head on concrete floor (I watched her miss a concrete wall by centimetres a year or two back) but really felt utterly inane. (The falls incidentally are sometimes tripping, sometimes seizures, for which she sometimes remembers to take her meds).
The meeting ended at an impasse, agreement for further assessment, a furious but actually quite brave (and very satisfied) Mrs Z and I suspect the poor doctor headed for his whisky cabinet.
She's to be sent home soon, with slightly improved care structure - visitations three times daily. Smart. Except I know that within three weeks she'll "fire" the visitors (because "they don't do anything") and we'll be back to square one.
@Robert Armin - prayers for you and your mother. I'm so glad she wants to make sure you are looked after. It meant a lot to me when my mother in law phoned me up to thank me for looking after her for a day when my husband's brother, her carer, was on holiday. I didn't even think she could use the phone any more.
My mother is rather like Mrs Zappa - she argues that of course she can look after herself because she's always has done. Well at least she did, she seems to show a few signs of beginning to settle in her care home. My cousin visited yesterday and spent a lot of time telling mum what a lovely place she was living in, to which mum agreed. Neither of us were certain if mum knew who she was though. @zappa, sometimes you just have to wait for the crisis, I just hope it isn't one that causes her injury. Your brother doesn't sound like he was being very helpful. My brother was a bit like that till he was at the end of one of my mum's rages.
OK, tomorrow I am taking Dad to A&E to try and find out why after a fall some eight days ago he has not recovered his ability to walk. The weirdest scenario is that he might just end up in a ward near Mum. We tried to just get him in for an x-ray on Friday but the doctor said 'No' go to A&E and there was no way I was taking a frail ninety-year-old to A&E late on Friday afternoon. So we are trying tomorrow.
Reasonable time in A&E. I do not know whether because they wanted to get rid of us as people clogging up the service or whether they felt safer without us there. I am certain that thing that should have happened did not but as I would have seen those as pointless I was not arguing.
It stemmed from a fall which understandably decreased Dad's mobility but Dad did not get well as quickly as expected. We were there to check that there were no broken bones. This was thoroughly investigated. The consensus was that he was not taking enough painkillers for his arthritis and that was hampering him from getting better. I suspect depression and maybe UTI may also be playing a part. The one option that slightly concerns me that it was not investigated was a minor stroke. That fitted the description prior to going but then Dad told us he was being stoical because he did not want to put the staff out and not letting on when he was in pain.
But I have followed up on none of them. It takes all my effort to keep clothes washed, bills paid (I think I finally have all but my credit cards on autopay, thank God), house vaguely picked you so we don’t drown in a sea of tissues and cracker crumbs, toilet paper, toothpaste, and laundry soap supplied.
I have finally bought a microwave and have a large supply of frozen dinners, and OMG it is so nice to just pop one in and ta-da there’s dinner. I’m using paper dishes and plastic cutlery so I don’t have to wash any dishes.
My mother is increasingly incontinent. I’m not sure if even a come-to-Jesus talk with her about wearing protective briefs will persuade her. So my couch is increasingly badly stained and my living room smells like pee.
So last time I posted here I think was when Mum wanted me to wipe her bottom. That hasn’t recurred as such. However she did have a several hours long bout of spectacular diarrhea, just pouring out everywhere, I changed the bedsheets three times, wiped up god knows how much effluvia, wiped my mother intimately. She’s also twice had bowel incontinence where a whole bunch of turds about the size of Brussels sprouts (I forget what you call them in the UK) just fall out of her body all over the floor. I cleaned all those up too (much easier than the diarrhea).
So I guess after all I do have the super-power “Wipes Up Poo.”
There are tons of other superpowers I’m missing that would be useful, like “Convinces Mum To Get A Local Doctor” or “Convinces Mum To Wear Protective Briefs So The Couch Isn’t Soaked In Pee” or even just “Convinces Mum To Care Even A Little Bit That She Pees On The Couch.”
My mother is incredibly stubborn and refuses to accept as reality anything that she doesn’t agree with. She always has been.
Aw thanks Huía. I have choir, and a dance band I play in, and my work which I love, and the guest room as a retreat (it’s on the second floor; for mobility issues my mother sleeps in my bedroom on the first floor).
@Autenrieth Road's post just makes me very angry. It feels to me like Ma is taking out her anger at her change in circumstance on her offspring, purely because she knows offspring won't bite back. The agression, however passive, feels profound and unwarranted to
You're a total hero - I can't even begin to imagine doing what you're doing for your mum and working as well.
<notworthy²>
One of the reasons I always read this thread is to remind me what my late sister went through, caring for our mother. Much of what AR describes is what she also had to cope with, as well as working full-time. I wasn't able to help, living on the other side of the country and going through my own personal crisis, but I know I could not have handled what my sister, AR, and so many of this thread manage to do to help our Aging Parents. There are halos waiting for all of you.
:not worthy:
There is no way I could have looked after my mother @Autenrieth Road even if it had been feasible. I have no patience and she knew exactly how to wind me up. I am in awe of people who do manage to do it.
My mum is declining steadily. She still likes to talk but doesn't really seem to be able to follow a conversation any more. She is also becoming more unstable on her feet, but I know what reaction I'll get if I suggest she gets a walking aid. There do appear to be some signs that she is settling in her care home though.
:notworthy: indeed! Is there an aging expert of any sort who could maybe suggest a kind of help that might be useful? As in, "You've told me you're dealing with x and y and z--did you know there's a service that could..." and so forth.
If your mother won’t wear pads, I would suggest putting a disposable sheet on your couch (the ones you buy at pet stores are cheaper and larger). I can’t remember exactly what they’re called. If necessary, cover it with some sort of fleece blanket that you can put through the wash easily. It’s a lot easier than dealing with a soiled couch.
I wasn't sure whether to post this here, or in TICTH.
Dad had surgery to remove a large melanoma Friday. He has to take an antibiotic for five days, one pill every 8 hours. Mom has Alzheimer's and can't remember such things, so it's easy for me to go to their home to give Dad his pill. (I live less than a mile from them.)
This morning, Dad called at 4:00 AM. He asked if he was mistaken about me arriving at 5:00. I reminded him that the clocks had changed, and that I would be there within the hour.
When I arrived, Dad was all dressed up. He assured me he had not eaten or had anything to drink, but isn't it strange that the doctor wants him on a Sunday? The penny dropped. He thought we were going for his surgery this morning! I told him that he'd already had the operation and that it was only a pill he was getting then. He looked very confused.
So, the effects of anesthesia on the elderly is what I would like to CTH. But, the anesthesia made it possible for Daddy-O to get rid of the evil melanoma. I know anesthesia makes me whack-a-doodle, but on an almost 90 year old, it's pretty scary.
@jedijudy, sorry to hear about the situation for you and your father. Here’s hoping he’ll bounce back from the effects of the anesthesia.
@Aravis, thanks for the suggestion. That sounds like something I can do.
Thanks all for the support and ideas. Things are calmer here. I’m calmer.
Mum has slept the entire day so far today and it has been So Nice to be able to putter about uninterrupted. (Not, I suppose, that my puttering is terribly important as tasks, but I’ve come to think it’s immensely important as self-care.)
Agreed. Dad lost so much when he had anaesthesia at 85. He could not remember his bank card number and I think his vascular dementia stems from then.
Forgive me, but I'd like to kiss you all for reminding me of the likely reason why I can't remember crap right now. I keep panicking when I realize my memory's on blink--I need to post "It's the anesthesia you had a few weeks ago" all over the house!
I too am puttering after a nasty little episode with heat and severe dehydration last Saturday, brain is recovering after a ride in ambulance and time in ER up the road. I fainted at lunch with about a dozen guests here. I have no recollection of things family have reported I said or did. Ambulance was here in seven minutes where a shorter trip takes ten for family. I am fine now but tired still and fuzzy around the edges. So just puttering.
@Autenrieth Road that all sounds extremely tough. Have you got anyone coming in to help? @zappa - how's Mrs Z senior ding now she's back home?
Sadly it's a saga almost identical to Mrs Autenrieth Road. But my poor sister is bearing the load. @Autenrieth Road, I fear I could not bear that load. All I can do from my distance is try to be there in a telephonic sort of way for Big Sister. My brother still believes there is nothing to worry about - understandable to some extent because as I contrast the stories I receive from Mrs Z with the actualities my sister is narrating it's clear the former is doing all possible to ensure my brother and I have no idea how wretched her state is. So for "a bit of a sore tummy" I now understand shit all over the house.
Dad was all dressed up at 5:00 this morning again. Since he was eating breakfast, I figured he just decided to wear what he had planned to for our post-op with the doctor this afternoon. Nope. He thought we were going to the doctor this morning. (I have the appointment and time written on the white board I keep on their fridge.)
As I left, Mom flagged me down and asked if Dad could have coffee. I said he can have anything he wants, and wasn't he just eating breakfast?
Dad called about 45 minutes ago to ask if he was allowed to eat. I reminded him that he had already had breakfast, so of course he can eat.
I'm printing up large signs to put in the house where he can see and hopefully remember that surgery is over!
Hopefully the anesthesia will leave his body soon.
At least he was dressed.dad used to come downstairs at all hours of the day and night dressed (or undressed) inthe weirdest assortment of clothes. Then he would be cranky because Mum was not ready to go out.
She took to hiding the keys so he could not get out. Who wants an elderly gentleman prowling the streets with one sock , shoes, two shirts and a hat on?
I am aging and a parent. My own parents are dead long since. I read this thread in awe and dread. Awe at how wonderfully many of you are coping with the sad deterioration of your parents; and dread at what may lie ahead for me, and for my less than patient son.
Also single without kids and let me tell you, if someone had mentioned this as I good reason for having children, I may have taken them up on it! I read all the obituaries in the local paper, as one does at this age, and the people are surrounded by their "loving families". Not sure what anyone will write for me and, then again, who would there be to write it? My current executor on my will has died and I don't know who else would want the job or whose name I could write there who could be trusted. Ho hum. Worries for another day.
Then again, when my dog and I used to visit the nursing home, I tried to visit well with those who had no family nearby. Surely there will be payback?
I'm another with no living family. I'm working on plans to move to a lovely "life care" facility nearby. Once you move in they keep you for life, whether you eventually need assisted living, memory care, whatever -- as long as you move in before you need advanced care. I'm not quite ready, but I'll probably make the move in a few years. I already know a lot of people there (mostly from my church), and several more friends are planning to move there in the future.
I have a firm that will be my executor; my next step is to get new Powers of Attorney (durable and medical). Last spring I met with the life care facility, an attorney who specializes in elder issues and estate planning (my will needs some minor adjustments), and even our local funeral home. (If I don't plan my funeral, who will? I'm also planning to pre-pay.)
I'm slowly getting my ducks in a row, as well as decluttering and downsizing, and it's been a very positive experience. My sister died unexpectedly, in her sleep, when she was 63. She had planned absolutely nothing, and let's just say had done NO decluttering. It was a wake-up call for me.
So happy to note anesthesia and memory lost. Dear Mr Image never seemed the same after illness last year. Memory seems to be going down hill. I note he had anesthesia 5 times last year. He also takes anti epilepsy medication and just yesterday I thought now that he has lost 40 lbs, and is older perhaps the amount should be lowered. The doctor he tells me says, " oh he is doing just great, his blood work looks good and such." I think I need to go in with him on his next appointment. He blames it all on age, and says he is tired of doctors. I do not blame him last year was quite a ride. Like others above I worry about aging. Mostly I worry if I should die before hubby, as I have grown into somewhat of the caretaker role.
Another childless widow checking in, although I do have siblings, nephews and nieces. I really ought to do something about at least my funeral expenses, as I wouldn't want them to be burdened with them.
Well, I share good news this time! Dad was not all dressed up to go to surgery this morning!! I don't know if it's the signs I posted for him, or if his memory is coming back! (Such as it is!)
I got as far as discussing with Mr S what I would be unable to do if he were to predecease me - turn on the telly (!) work the music (!) and work the central heating. The third one is sufficiently inchoate that he has to keep the instructions by the thermostat. However I can drive, pay bills etc, which is a comfort, and the paperwork is all in order, thank goodness.
If I go first, I know he can feed himself well and keep the laundry done. I'd be more worried about his social life, since it seems to fall to me to make all those arrangements, send birthday cards and so on. That seems to be common to quite a few men!
Golly there are quite a few things I leave up to my husband though I decided to be proactive this year and turn back the central heating clock. Husband came home and turned it forward because one he’d forgotten the clocks went back and two he didn’t think I’d do it!
I had a lovely time in mum’s care home this morning. She and a few others are taking part in a flash mob dance in the local shopping centre at the end of the month. They’ll be sitting in a cafe doing a dance (mainly with their hands) to ‘All that Jazz’. I was there to keep mum on the straight and narrow but it was great having a professional choreographer putting us through our paces. I feel all Strictlyfied!
Hope everyone is having the best time they can with their ageing ps.
My sister has today asked the home to go into a palliative mode with Mum i.e. no sending to the hospital unless clearly essential. That is not the big news, as of this evening Dad had taken that on board. How long this blissful state will last I do not know but for a while, we are all on the same page.
Went to see The Dowager today and was shocked to see how she'd gone downhill (I haven't been for 3 weeks). The hairdresser, who's been on holiday, noticed it too. She's well, physically, and still looks years younger than her actual age - but I think everything has lost reality for her, unless it is actually, physically, present in front of her. She was saying 'you're all I have left' and the like, which is not true, but clearly she's completely forgotten Master S and his family visiting, and other visitors too. Oh dear.
Also, she is severely deaf now - she could only hear me if I bellowed into her better ear - I know I have a rather quiet voice, but we've managed better until now. Amazingly, staff tell me that in the evening they can have conversations with her at perfectly normal volumes, so there must be a neurological basis for this.
I am exhausted, and I didn't even have to drive; it's just the effect of answering the same question over and over, and trying to be cheerful in the face of all the evidence.
Oh my big challenge, to persuade Dad he is going to church on Sunday. This is a one-off event and he has contacted the relevant person at church about it but has forgotten this. We shall see what happens but the minibuses are booked.
Intrepid Mrs S, "I am exhausted, and I didn't even have to drive; it's just the effect of answering the same question over and over, and trying to be cheerful in the face of all the evidence."
Oh, how well I know that feeling! Somehow you have to learn to let it wash over you, so you don't pay too much attention to the question. (Which sounds a bit cruel, but I think the Dowager will take more comfort from your presence than your answers.) As so often with advice, it's easier to say than do.
Comments
The Zappa Next Generation (and one next-next gen) all "met" (two of us by tele-link) with medical staff and a social worker at the respite/assessment facility. Mrs Zappa was present and fiercely lucid, and gave the medicos and social worker a fair bollocking.
Psychologically it was quite ambivalent for me: she was a tyrant of a mother when I was young and I found myself by turns amused, bemused and empathetically terrified as she ripped the staff apart. Her retorts were of the "Young man, I think I know how to look after myself" variety, to which his reply "but do you / have you thought of x y z" were met with withering glares I could feel down the telephone and searing argument clinchers of the "I've been managing since before your grandmother was born" variety.
My sister tried valiantly to point out some of the countless ways in which Mrs Z is in fact not coping, only to be forcefully corrected with "well that's not true" parries. My brother launched into the "anything my mother says is right and she is amazing and wonderful" mode. I sat on my phone stuttering like a stunned mullet (possibly an antipodean expression?). I did try to point out that it is sheer fluke that the many times she has fallen have not ended with head on concrete floor (I watched her miss a concrete wall by centimetres a year or two back) but really felt utterly inane. (The falls incidentally are sometimes tripping, sometimes seizures, for which she sometimes remembers to take her meds).
The meeting ended at an impasse, agreement for further assessment, a furious but actually quite brave (and very satisfied) Mrs Z and I suspect the poor doctor headed for his whisky cabinet.
She's to be sent home soon, with slightly improved care structure - visitations three times daily. Smart. Except I know that within three weeks she'll "fire" the visitors (because "they don't do anything") and we'll be back to square one.
Until we're not.
My mother is rather like Mrs Zappa - she argues that of course she can look after herself because she's always has done. Well at least she did, she seems to show a few signs of beginning to settle in her care home. My cousin visited yesterday and spent a lot of time telling mum what a lovely place she was living in, to which mum agreed. Neither of us were certain if mum knew who she was though. @zappa, sometimes you just have to wait for the crisis, I just hope it isn't one that causes her injury. Your brother doesn't sound like he was being very helpful. My brother was a bit like that till he was at the end of one of my mum's rages.
It stemmed from a fall which understandably decreased Dad's mobility but Dad did not get well as quickly as expected. We were there to check that there were no broken bones. This was thoroughly investigated. The consensus was that he was not taking enough painkillers for his arthritis and that was hampering him from getting better. I suspect depression and maybe UTI may also be playing a part. The one option that slightly concerns me that it was not investigated was a minor stroke. That fitted the description prior to going but then Dad told us he was being stoical because he did not want to put the staff out and not letting on when he was in pain.
https://forums.shipoffools.com/discussion/comment/160879/#Comment_160879
But I have followed up on none of them. It takes all my effort to keep clothes washed, bills paid (I think I finally have all but my credit cards on autopay, thank God), house vaguely picked you so we don’t drown in a sea of tissues and cracker crumbs, toilet paper, toothpaste, and laundry soap supplied.
I have finally bought a microwave and have a large supply of frozen dinners, and OMG it is so nice to just pop one in and ta-da there’s dinner. I’m using paper dishes and plastic cutlery so I don’t have to wash any dishes.
My mother is increasingly incontinent. I’m not sure if even a come-to-Jesus talk with her about wearing protective briefs will persuade her. So my couch is increasingly badly stained and my living room smells like pee.
Sympathy and silent support to all posting here.
So I guess after all I do have the super-power “Wipes Up Poo.”
There are tons of other superpowers I’m missing that would be useful, like “Convinces Mum To Get A Local Doctor” or “Convinces Mum To Wear Protective Briefs So The Couch Isn’t Soaked In Pee” or even just “Convinces Mum To Care Even A Little Bit That She Pees On The Couch.”
My mother is incredibly stubborn and refuses to accept as reality anything that she doesn’t agree with. She always has been.
I hope there is some space in there for you,
@zappa - how's Mrs Z senior ding now she's back home?
You're a total hero - I can't even begin to imagine doing what you're doing for your mum and working as well.
<notworthy²>
One of the reasons I always read this thread is to remind me what my late sister went through, caring for our mother. Much of what AR describes is what she also had to cope with, as well as working full-time. I wasn't able to help, living on the other side of the country and going through my own personal crisis, but I know I could not have handled what my sister, AR, and so many of this thread manage to do to help our Aging Parents. There are halos waiting for all of you.
:not worthy:
I’m mentally exhausted.
My mum is declining steadily. She still likes to talk but doesn't really seem to be able to follow a conversation any more. She is also becoming more unstable on her feet, but I know what reaction I'll get if I suggest she gets a walking aid. There do appear to be some signs that she is settling in her care home though.
Dad had surgery to remove a large melanoma Friday. He has to take an antibiotic for five days, one pill every 8 hours. Mom has Alzheimer's and can't remember such things, so it's easy for me to go to their home to give Dad his pill. (I live less than a mile from them.)
This morning, Dad called at 4:00 AM. He asked if he was mistaken about me arriving at 5:00. I reminded him that the clocks had changed, and that I would be there within the hour.
When I arrived, Dad was all dressed up. He assured me he had not eaten or had anything to drink, but isn't it strange that the doctor wants him on a Sunday? The penny dropped. He thought we were going for his surgery this morning! I told him that he'd already had the operation and that it was only a pill he was getting then. He looked very confused.
So, the effects of anesthesia on the elderly is what I would like to CTH. But, the anesthesia made it possible for Daddy-O to get rid of the evil melanoma. I know anesthesia makes me whack-a-doodle, but on an almost 90 year old, it's pretty scary.
@Aravis, thanks for the suggestion. That sounds like something I can do.
Thanks all for the support and ideas. Things are calmer here. I’m calmer.
Mum has slept the entire day so far today and it has been So Nice to be able to putter about uninterrupted. (Not, I suppose, that my puttering is terribly important as tasks, but I’ve come to think it’s immensely important as self-care.)
Forgive me, but I'd like to kiss you all for reminding me of the likely reason why I can't remember crap right now. I keep panicking when I realize my memory's on blink--I need to post "It's the anesthesia you had a few weeks ago" all over the house!
Sadly it's a saga almost identical to Mrs Autenrieth Road. But my poor sister is bearing the load. @Autenrieth Road, I fear I could not bear that load. All I can do from my distance is try to be there in a telephonic sort of way for Big Sister. My brother still believes there is nothing to worry about - understandable to some extent because as I contrast the stories I receive from Mrs Z with the actualities my sister is narrating it's clear the former is doing all possible to ensure my brother and I have no idea how wretched her state is. So for "a bit of a sore tummy" I now understand shit all over the house.
It's all very sad.
As I left, Mom flagged me down and asked if Dad could have coffee. I said he can have anything he wants, and wasn't he just eating breakfast?
Dad called about 45 minutes ago to ask if he was allowed to eat. I reminded him that he had already had breakfast, so of course he can eat.
I'm printing up large signs to put in the house where he can see and hopefully remember that surgery is over!
Hopefully the anesthesia will leave his body soon.
She took to hiding the keys so he could not get out. Who wants an elderly gentleman prowling the streets with one sock , shoes, two shirts and a hat on?
Then again, when my dog and I used to visit the nursing home, I tried to visit well with those who had no family nearby. Surely there will be payback?
I have a firm that will be my executor; my next step is to get new Powers of Attorney (durable and medical). Last spring I met with the life care facility, an attorney who specializes in elder issues and estate planning (my will needs some minor adjustments), and even our local funeral home. (If I don't plan my funeral, who will? I'm also planning to pre-pay.)
I'm slowly getting my ducks in a row, as well as decluttering and downsizing, and it's been a very positive experience. My sister died unexpectedly, in her sleep, when she was 63. She had planned absolutely nothing, and let's just say had done NO decluttering. It was a wake-up call for me.
If I go first, I know he can feed himself well and keep the laundry done. I'd be more worried about his social life, since it seems to fall to me to make all those arrangements, send birthday cards and so on. That seems to be common to quite a few men!
Mrs. S, preparing
I had a lovely time in mum’s care home this morning. She and a few others are taking part in a flash mob dance in the local shopping centre at the end of the month. They’ll be sitting in a cafe doing a dance (mainly with their hands) to ‘All that Jazz’. I was there to keep mum on the straight and narrow but it was great having a professional choreographer putting us through our paces. I feel all Strictlyfied!
Hope everyone is having the best time they can with their ageing ps.
Also, she is severely deaf now - she could only hear me if I bellowed into her better ear - I know I have a rather quiet voice, but we've managed better until now. Amazingly, staff tell me that in the evening they can have conversations with her at perfectly normal volumes, so there must be a neurological basis for this.
I am exhausted, and I didn't even have to drive; it's just the effect of answering the same question over and over, and trying to be cheerful in the face of all the evidence.
Mrs. S, full of praise for carers everywhere
Oh, how well I know that feeling! Somehow you have to learn to let it wash over you, so you don't pay too much attention to the question. (Which sounds a bit cruel, but I think the Dowager will take more comfort from your presence than your answers.) As so often with advice, it's easier to say than do.
Yesterday's special:
Me: Finish your biscuit, Mum (proffering half-eaten biscuit)
Mum: What's that?
Me: It's a biscuit
Mum: What's it for?
Me: Eating
Mum: Oh (eats biscuit)
<votive> for all of us
Mrs. S, hanging on