Mama's diagnosis of Alzheimer's was shocking. The earth moved, and I was immediately in a different reality - responsible for someone who didn't know what state she was in, what year it was, or that her husband had died.
My First Plan . . .
I couldn't let her go home. My husband and I agreed she would live with us. I hired part-time caregivers and involved Mama in most aspects of our lives. This lasted for three years. Then, the plan fell apart. Mama resisted help with dressing and bathing. She resented being asked to take any medications. Her judgment declined. We were scared that she might stay up all night, tumble down the stairs, eat an entire box of chocolate candy, or lock herself in the car while we were pumping gas. Her need for more oversight and prompting turned our home into a whirlwind of drama.
The Next Plan . . .
I rented a small apartment for her nearby. It had an elevator that eased the concern about stairs. I hired a full-time, live-in caregiver, installed a door alarm on the front door, and visited every afternoon. Our emotional tangles about the medications, when to go to bed, what to wear, etc. disappeared. We listened to music, went for walks, and enjoyed each other's company. This lasted about a year and a-half. Then, she became seriously ill with the flu.
And the Next . . .
Mama was hospitalized for ten days. Her losses were major. Standing, walking, and swallowing were impaired. Blood pressure and heartbeat were erratic. She developed a painful stress fracture. She and her caregiver returned to our home, where we puree food, monitor edema, and exercise each day. There is a lot of lifting, turning, and bathing in bed. She has been here for two months. She is improving. There will be another plan.
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