Daddy's cynical, impatient girl

If you've been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know that a lot of my posts have been about my Dad. I guess I'd attribute this to the fact that my father has always been a huge figure in my life. Prior to this year, I adored my Dad without hesitation. Sure, he had a few annoying habits, but that was nothing compared to how awesome he was, right?

Fast-forward to this spring when my parents moved in with us. All of a sudden, I was completely blindsided and gobsmacked by the combination of a very human/flawed person and an elderly man desperately trying to retain his dignity while, little by little, it was being stripped away. I saw the ugliness of his daily habits. I often forgot about the dementia diagnosis and lashed out when he wouldn't bend to our demands.

Basically, I saw my Dad for who he really was, AFTER being filtered through the prism of decline, decay, dementia and general inertia. The man is aging and yet my stubbornness refuses to let go of the guy that I used to know - the funny, articulate, witty, interesting and engaged individual who taught me work ethic like nobody else. How is it possible that this same person won't even get up out of his chair or worse, won't change the channel on the TV?

My Dad isn't the same person I used to know. Then again, who among us goes unchanged through life?

I inherited a lot from my Dad for which I'm thankful, except for two traits that I wish I could give back - impatience and cynicism. Neither of them are serving me well in my new role of elder careperson. They are also not serving Dad very well at this, unfortunately, sad time of his life.

For me, impatience causes me to wish my parents could walk more quickly, remember things more readily or react to virtually anything with the speed of my peers. It has just occurred to me that I seem unwilling to meet them where they are. Remember months ago, when I wrote this second post about how this all seemingly started with a prayer for patience? I find, more often than not, I haven't really done very well in that department. No doubt another lesson is waiting for me down the road.

Then there's the cynicism that I learned from my Dad. When he and I go on excursions to one of his medical appointments, I have a hard time getting him to talk. My fallback is always to ask his opinion about people or things in the news. More often than not, his answers are short on length and optimism. As prone as I am to being a "Judgy McJudgson," I too find myself expecting the negative or making judgments about people about whom I know so little. Who am I to judge?

I don't have a resolution for any of this. My current relationship with my Dad is tenuous, at best. I'd like to say that I've changed, but I probably haven't. I constantly have to remind myself of how far he's fallen and how difficult that must be for him. My hope is that I can get into the habit of remembering to be patient and non-judgmental, something that does not come easily at all.

Perhaps I'd do well to remember the wise words of Aibileen:

A work in progress

I guess this is it. The way things will be...at least for a while. I'm starting to realize that life is a series of scenes, ever-changing. Things never really "settle down." They just remain stable...for a little while. And then they change again. Because kids grow, parents age, health declines. I'm not depressed, really. I'm just feeling a sense of clarity.

I've been having this interior struggle: The other day, I had this absolutely daunting, overwhelming thought - I've taken over my parents' lives. Although it was done with the blessings of my siblings and with the reluctant acceptance of Mom and Dad, I still realize that they are largely dependent upon me and Hubby. Wow. In some ways, this feels like being a new mom again - kinda scary.

Then again, the Control Freak side of me sort of likes the fact that I can positively affect their life. Is that weird? I just think back to the past several years. So often I would think: Gosh, I wish Mom and Dad lived closer so I could do this with them, or show them this or share this with them. Now I can, within limited means. We're still dealing with physical issues - poor vision, dementia, gait impairment - but there are a few things I can now do because they live closer to us.

So my life has settled into a bit of a routine. I try to go to Mom and Dad's at least two times a week. Mom calls with a shopping list of necessities and I purchase those along with a few treats - candy or other sweets that I know will brighten Dad's eyes. It's not much and most of the time, it feels woefully inadequate, but knowing they're safe and looked-after, is about the best we can do right now.

On the bright side, I'm loving the little chats that I have with Mom when I visit. She's a sharp one - doesn't miss a beat - fills me in on all the hubub at the facility. Some of it kind of funny, some good, but some not-so-good. And when it's not-so-good, that's when the guilt sets in. When she makes comments about how there's not much staff on weekends and it's really quiet - I brush it off, but I never really get rid of it.

That's when I have to remind myself that in many ways, we're in WAY better shape than so many other families who are struggling with what to do with our parents. Many friends have told me that they are thinking ahead and concerned about what they will do in the next few years. That's when I feel really proud. It wasn't perfect, but we did it. We stepped into my parents' lives and did the best thing we could.

Maybe it's because I'm feeling so impacted (or is it snake bitten?) by this experience, I'm now starting to think ahead...WAY ahead to what will happen to Hubby and me. We're only 52 and 53 years old, but the years speed by. The time to prepare is now, right?

I guess that's my new mission - spreading the message of "preparedness." It's never too early.

Meloncholia

So, we went on vacation for a week. That was nice. Got away. Felt like old times. Thought about the folks a little, but I'll be honest - not a lot. And still, while we were gone, Hubby was on the phone with a government agency questioning more of Mom and Dad's bills. I could hear the frustration and concern in his voice. The finances never seem to be the easy part. Seriously, people. Start stockpiling money NOW. Being old is a pricey proposition...at best. A financial juggernaut the size and effect of the Hindenberg and the Titanic all rolled up in one.

Yesterday, I knew I had to call Mom and check in. Asked her if everything was going OK. I was stupid enough to let myself imagine that she'd respond "Oh, everything is great!"

Nope.

Instead, I got a litany of mild to moderate complaints. Here, in no particular order are the things that are of concern to Mom:

- Mom and Dad miss their house...a lot.
- The Assisted Living staff is constantly changing. Mom said the nurses are different every day.
- The generic "Depends" I bought her are terrible.
- Mom and Dad want soup and crackers...because dinners aren't good there.
- They probably can't even vote...or don't know where/how to vote.
- Dad has lots of questions about money, etc. We need to talk to him.
- Mom saw another resident's apartment and it has VALANCES. Clearly, that's the secret to making these apartments look like a home. Apparently, their apartment feels like crap in comparison. (Yes, I inserted adjectives in there.) 
- There are rumors of two new couples moving in. She said this in a negative tone...as if this will upset their life in some way.

Honestly, it was a very depressing conversation. I tried my best to let Mom vent. After all, who else can she really talk to? If she's afraid to air her grievances with me, she'll just bottle it up and feel guilty. But it made me feel TERRIBLE. I felt like I was holding them prisoner in this gawdawful place.

I reminded her of why they were there and how I wished I could do something...anything to let them live in their home, but it's not possible. She understood, but I could tell that there was this lingering pall over their life.

Really, this shouldn't be a huge surprise to me. At some point, reality was going to hit them and they would have this melancholy stage. I just underestimated how much I would feel it as well.

A test we'll eventually fail.

"This has been a test of the Emergency Elder Care System." It works.

Last night, I was sitting on the couch, watching TV when the caller ID flashed the name of my parents' Assisted Living facility. "Uh oh," I said. It's the call you don't want, but you have to take.

Turns out, Dad was reaching to close the blinds in the apartment, lost his balance and tumbled to the floor. He didn't hurt himself but he couldn't get up....much like had happened many times before when my parents lived alone.

Fortunately, my Mom or Dad pulled the little cord thingy on the wall and somebody came to help him up. They also took his vital signs to make sure he was OK. Then I was called...twice. Once last night and once this morning. It was reassuring to know that everybody was OK and they had survived this incident.

Phew....sort of.

See, the thing is, although I'm totally relieved that Dad fell in a place that is safe and where they were there to pick him up, the problem is that he still fell. And when will he fall and hurt himself? I know it will happen...eventually. No, I'm not being all Negative Nancy, I'm being Realistic Rita. Because here's the cold, hard truth about all of our parents - Eventually, they will fail. I know it. You know it. We all know it. The question really becomes: Who will be there to pick them up and what's the next step?

No news is good news

It's been way too long since I've posted - over a week - and I know what you're thinking: "Out of sight, out of mind." Well, I admit, that's KIND of true. Now that the parents are in the assisted living facility, I do admit to selfishly enjoying every single damn moment of the empty nest. Dang, this is nice. I love everything about it - making plans with Hubby, NOT making dinner, rarely grocery shopping, coming and going when I please. I admit it, I'm one selfish person. But at least I admit it, right?

Back at the assisted facility, Mom and Dad are adjusting nicely. Is it perfect? No. Apparently Mom gets awakened every morning at 6am to get some of her medication. I guess it's a little unnerving that they just walk into the apartment. Then again, they do this so that some time passes between the time she gets her medication and the time that she eats. Her at our house, she'd simply sit around and not eat for a while. They have a schedule. They can't be feeding people at all times of the day. I'm sure my parents don't love that their meal times are rarely if ever changed, but then again, it's something stable and constant which, in elder care, is really important.

Then there's the food. I've basically been avoiding the topic with my parents. Not that I don't care, but because I can't fix it. I can't change it. It is what it is. Yes, I wish that they loved it, but they don't. They don't hate it, but it's not the be-all, end-all. Mom basically says,"It's not bad, but there's just something missing." So instead, I'm trying to sneak them out for some meals at restaurants when I can. Today, for instance, Hubby and I are taking them to dinner at a nice steak place near them. I'm kind of excited and they are too! Mom asked me when I called her about it: "Are you sure you want to come down here today?" Isn't she too sweet? She also said: "That will really be a treat for us!" Man, if I can make somebody's day by taking them to dinner, life is pretty damn good.

On the negative side, we're having some family fireworks. My sister and I are thick as thieves. We stay connected and work together as much as possible. My brother is another story. I don't want to air the family dirty laundry, but we are no way on the same page. We're not even in the same book. He's frustrated and feeling guilty because he can't do as much to contribute to the cause and so he's flipping things around and making my sister and I feel like we did something wrong. It's maddening. I feel angry and frustrated myself. My first instinct is to lash out at him, but I know, deep down, that won't help anything. I have to swallow my pride and fix it. It's what I do. I'm kind of the family fixer. (I'm a Libra - it's a genetic thing.) The problem is, I'm not sure it can be fixed. But here's the thing: What matters more than anything else to my parents is that we kids get along. It's all they care about. Damn, this is hard.

So that's an update. Nothing special. Nothing earth-shattering, but that's actually good. No news is actually good news.

My own personal summer

It's as if God said to me: "Whoa, whoa, WHOA. Don't get TOO comfortable over there!"

Yes, in a stroke of cosmic timing, the hot flashes started last week. When I finally get the parents into Assisted Living and my daughter back to school and really empty out the nest, nature decides to throw me a curve ball and push me into menopause. Sigh.

I know, I know. I'm damn well old enough. Many of my friends started years ago, but I thought I might escape it, somehow. As if I got a pass from the ickiness of old age and I'd quietly descend into my sunset years without incident. Nope. Not gonna happen.

Actually, they're not really hot flashes. A friend wisely called them "surges" and that's exactly how they feel. It's like drinking a pot of hot coffee on a really warm day. Suddenly, you just have this overwhelming urge to remove a layer of clothing...quickly. It's tolerable, just really weird. So that's what's new with me....

So I haven't been posting in a while. Life has generally settled down, except for most Tuesdays and Thursdays when I do the marathon trip to the Assisted Living Facility, pick up Dad, take him to one or two PT appointments, drive him home and then drive me back home. Here are the only two bad things about this whole scene: 1) Dad isn't much of a talker. The car rides are kind of long and awkward. 2) Sciatica. Doesn't hurt unless I'm sitting down...which I am for 2 hours during this commute.

Other than that, it's been pretty good. Except for the fact that I feel like Dad and I are completely wasting our time doing this PT. He does his exercises...sort of. But his shoulder isn't really better and his gait isn't really better. And yet, despite that, he decided to head down to the dining hall without his walker the other day. Even the nurse saw him and offered to go up to their apartment and get it, but he insisted that he didn't need it. I feel like that's not a good thing, but perhaps it might improve his strength?

Here's a nugget from a recent doctor appointment:

Nurse: So, do you have any big plans for the weekend?
Dad: Not really...except for sky diving.

He's a trip, isn't he? And Mom is just eating up the Assisted Living lifestyle. She's gone to Bingo, Dice, Church, manicures, Exercise Your Brain Classes, Yoga...she's doing it all. I'm SO proud of her. It's like she was imprisoned and she's been set free. She says she's overwhelmed by the choices and the activities, but I can see that she's come alive. And she says that Dad seems to like it when she leaves him so he can have his peace and quiet. Is he safe there alone? Who knows.

Oh but there was a bit of a drama there the other day. Mom said they had a meeting during which all the residents could bring up any complaints. One woman, who Mom said is heavy and Dad said "told us that nobody likes her," apparently monopolized the meeting. Mom said everyone was getting upset with her. And to make matters worse, Mom said this woman sits at their table during meals and "your Father HATES her." Oh boy. But as Mom was telling me this story, One Eyed Marilyn, their other tablemate, came up and told Mom that she'd complained and the disliked woman wouldn't be sitting with them anymore. Like a friend said, it's like Middle School Lunch all over again! I'm glad for Mom and Dad (and Marilyn) but feel kind of bad for that woman. How awful it must feel to be old and unliked!

But all seems good, knock on wood. We're settling into a routine, Mom and Dad seem content and I feel like maybe that's the best I can ask for.

Meanwhile, I'm having a load of fun (insert sarcasm font) with the healthcare system. Holy crap. I'm not awesome, but I can't help but wonder, how do old people who don't have a child or someone to help them, deal with medical appointments and healthcare red tape? It absolutely makes me lose my sh*t. I can't help but feel absolutely daunted by the idea of adding more appointments to my parents' calendar. And yet strangely, that calendar also seems to be the one thing that give my Dad's days purpose. Funny how that works. I guess it's a small price to pay.

I'll leave you with a charming video starring old people. I love this.

This is my mind on worry.

This morning, as I was still in bed at 4:50 am, my mind was going 8,000 mph. Here's what I was thinking:

- What if Dad isn't sitting properly?
- What if his pressure sores are coming back?
- What if he's not drinking enough water?
- What if he's not doing his PT exercises?
- What if the nurse at the assisted living facility never responds to my request to watch him do his exercises?
- What if the nurse isn't very good?
- What if they're screwing around with their meds?
- What if it's a creeper nurse who is mean to old people?
- What if Mom doesn't stay relatively healthy?
- What if Mom and Dad grow to hate where they live?
- What if I can't get between PT appointments today AND feed Dad lunch in between?
- Should I move the car in between PT appointments?
- What if I never have time to exercise again?
- What if we do all this PT and then Dad just continues to decline?
- What do I do when Mom has an appointment and Dad doesn't?
- Is Dad safe to leave on his own?
- What am I, crazy?!
- What if the funding doesn't come through and they can no longer afford to stay in their apartment?
- If they have to come back here, will I lose my mind?
- What if we run out of money and our kids have no money and we are old and need care?
- What if I don't have time to do everything this week?
- What if I never have time to do anything ever again?
- If I lose my mind, who will take care of Mom and Dad?
- What if the dog's incision doesn't heal properly?
- What if the vet says I can't board her while we're gone this weekend?
- What happens if Dad declines quickly and they are no longer fit to be cared for at this "level" in the assisted living?
- Am I losing my mind?

I'm certain there were more questions, but I think you get it. And yes, you can see a trend - it's all about the future and "what if?" I exhaust myself with all of this. Some days, I have to just go with one hour at a time.

It's daunting, I tell you. Daunting.