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On My Mind - August 1997
August 6/97
While away at the cottage last weekend, I checked my voice mail to discover to my shock that Aunt Edna had died suddenly and that the funeral was the next day. I couldn't get off the island in time to go myself so I arranged for my sisters to attend. So here I sit with dad who doesn't even know his sister was ill, let alone that she has died.
Lord, what to do. Another lesson; when a senior falls, don't put off anything. Insist on what you think is right as time is generally limited to tie up loose ends.
August 11/97
They reviewed his history with me and why we were there. My main concerns were his speech, drooling, agitation, terribly swollen feet and ankles, pressure sores on his buttocks and his meds in general. I also wanted to ask about how to proceed with the news about his sister and some other sensitive issues. They did a mini-mental which clearly indicated dad's complete loss of short term memory. He was able to fold the paper and follow a few other simple instructions but had no space or time orientation. I cannot tell you how painful it was to watch this formerly clever, articulate man unable to remember the day of the week and look to me for help.
They performed a brief physical, examining his lower extremities, buttocks and heart/lungs in particular. These two doctors then left, explaining that the chief would be in. So we waited a good half hour but dad was very patient throughout. I finally went to the nurse to tell her WheelTrans would arrive in about 25 minutes; the doctor appeared shortly thereafter.
He was wonderful as I had been told. Great sense of humour. He reviewed each of my concerns and the conclusion was that dad's meds are appropriate; he should not wear any support stockings since the circulation to his feet was already so poor; we should get him out of the wheelchair whenever possible to ease the pressure sores (easier said than done); we may want to consider a special mattress which I shall look into; he will have a cardiac ultrasound and based on the findings may be put on a very mild diuretic to see if that helps the swollen feet. They will try to arrange a speech assessment for him to see if speech therapy would help. The best way to handle agitation is the human touch and a comforting voice but as many of you know these can be difficult to come by in the middle of the night in a nursing home.
On the way out I asked him how he would handle telling dad about his sister; in his experience seniors handle this type of news far better than we would expect. He believes in telling the truth...as I do, but I shudder at the thought of having to tell dad. It may break him.
We got back about 4:00 PM; I left him with his companion. He looked at me before I left and said I really had to get over more often; I know dad, I know.
August 16/96
I explained slowly and quietly that his sister had fallen and gone to hospital, but it looked as if she would be fine and that they were going to transfer her to a nursing home. Then suddenly she fell into a come and died. No- one was prepared for her to go to sleep so suddenly. Dad just looked at me and then he started to howl...I hugged him and I started to cry ...for him because he lost a sister, for an old man who has so much to deal with and now this and just for the shitty way things can be sometimes. I kept telling him that it was her time, that she wanted to be with Herb, that she had died peacefully, without pain. I can only imagine how hard it must have been for him, a person with dementia, to grasp what I was saying. I was filled with anger at my family...no- one could be bothered to tell him, to take my dad to the funeral. Even family can be so selfish.
Because he was crying so hard, his teeth kept falling out, so I removed them and told him I would go upstairs and get his tooth glue, so when he tried to say something I might be able to understand. I went in and cried myself out, got the glue; as I walked toward him in the garden he started to cry again but by the time his teeth were back in, he seemed to have forgotten our conversation. He looked sad but he wasn't crying or saying anything. We sat quietly for a few minutes, then I suggested we go to the store to buy him some cookies. We got caught in the rain coming home. His companion was there when we arrived; I explained what had happened in case there were any repercussions. I had also told the chaplain and the floor charge nurse. We sat together watching the rain, then I left.
As usual, I get to do the dirty work. I'll see him again on Sunday.
August 18/97
August 24/97
August 28/97
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