A quick little story today, relayed to me by one of her caregivers (forgive me Mom, for sharing this one...;) )
"I was helping your Mother shower the other day, and I was whistling a little tune while I worked. Your Mom told me that I was a very good whistler-- I thanked her and continued to whistle. As she was washing up, she passed a little gas. 'Oops,' she said, 'I think I just whistled back at you!' "
Hee, hee, hee.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
A Weekend for "The Girls"
I took last Saturday off to bring Nana for a mammogram. The doctor and I are still a little concerned about Nana's weight loss, though it has now stabilized and she seems to be eating well (In fact, she has been asking the staff if she could choose from a menu now.... heehee.) So we thought we would just make sure that we weren't missing anything.
After bringing Nana to the car, I asked her if she remembered what a mammogram was. She said no.... I explained that it was a test for breast cancer, and it could be uncomfortable. "Ohhhh.... eww. Well, if it is important for my health, that's ok."
We arrived at the center, and we were the only patients. The techs looked a little nervous when they saw Nana arrive via a walker, but she smiled at everyone and made everyone feel at ease. She entered the mammography area and was readied for the test. After the first breast was imaged, Nana thanked the mammographer. "Hmm," she said, "I think that is the first time that anyone has thanked me for that." We laughed. Nana said, "Well, I know that you are doing your best. And this is an important test." I tried to "read" the mammography films, but of course, I didn't know what I was doing. But the films looked the same on each side, so I will take that as a positive.
After the appointment, we went to Lady Grace for a bra fitting-- the ones she was wearing these days looked about 25 years old, and she had mentioned that she needed some new ones. We went to the back and the salesperson brought her some bras that looked "familiar", as well as some that would be a little more comfortable (ones with less support but no hooks to reach in the back.) She chose the ones that looked more familiar, as expected.
After making our purchases, we headed back to the car.
"Where will I be going now?"
I told her that I was taking back to her home. She looked a bit concerned as she got into the car, but as we pulled into Compass' parking lot, she said, "I know this place-- I love it here!"
We entered the memory support area, and Nana settled into a chair in the dining area, where the residents were having birthday cake. I hung up Nana's coat and returned to say goodbye. She turned to me and said thank you for the day, and told me she loved me.
"And thank you, Nancy, for finding me such a wonderful, wonderful home." :)
After bringing Nana to the car, I asked her if she remembered what a mammogram was. She said no.... I explained that it was a test for breast cancer, and it could be uncomfortable. "Ohhhh.... eww. Well, if it is important for my health, that's ok."
We arrived at the center, and we were the only patients. The techs looked a little nervous when they saw Nana arrive via a walker, but she smiled at everyone and made everyone feel at ease. She entered the mammography area and was readied for the test. After the first breast was imaged, Nana thanked the mammographer. "Hmm," she said, "I think that is the first time that anyone has thanked me for that." We laughed. Nana said, "Well, I know that you are doing your best. And this is an important test." I tried to "read" the mammography films, but of course, I didn't know what I was doing. But the films looked the same on each side, so I will take that as a positive.
After the appointment, we went to Lady Grace for a bra fitting-- the ones she was wearing these days looked about 25 years old, and she had mentioned that she needed some new ones. We went to the back and the salesperson brought her some bras that looked "familiar", as well as some that would be a little more comfortable (ones with less support but no hooks to reach in the back.) She chose the ones that looked more familiar, as expected.
After making our purchases, we headed back to the car.
"Where will I be going now?"
I told her that I was taking back to her home. She looked a bit concerned as she got into the car, but as we pulled into Compass' parking lot, she said, "I know this place-- I love it here!"
We entered the memory support area, and Nana settled into a chair in the dining area, where the residents were having birthday cake. I hung up Nana's coat and returned to say goodbye. She turned to me and said thank you for the day, and told me she loved me.
"And thank you, Nancy, for finding me such a wonderful, wonderful home." :)
Friday, October 19, 2012
Updates
Boy, sometimes I am terrible about keeping up with my blogposts... I guess I have a harder time writing when Nana isn't doing as well. First off, don't worry-- she isn't fretful or in pain-- she just seems to be getting weaker, and it is hard to watch sometimes.
Nana has lost a total of 14 pounds since moving 7 months ago, despite a good appetite and great attention by her caregivers. (She is cute-- when I weigh her, she smiles and cheers when her weight has gone down-- I remind her that we don't want her to lose weight; but like most women, she still likes to see the scale go down..) We had the occupational therapist watch her eating habits and make sure that she wasn't losing any fine motor skills that would make eating more difficult-- she was fine with her eating utensils. But she did note that she was easily distracted, so she eats in a quieter environment to help her stay on task. The therapist also noticed that her gait was a bit unsteady, so we invited the physical therapist to take a look. She now goes to "exercise class" twice a week, and she is now using a walker.
Walkers in dementia units are pretty amusing. First off, most residents forget that they have walkers, so part of each day is spent finding everyone's walker. Secondly, residents frequently "borrow" each other's walkers-- this is particularly annoying to Nana ("My name is right on the FRONT. If this is not your name, it is not your walker. It is MINE.") heehee.
Yes, Nana is progressing in this disease called Alzheimers. But it still can't take away all the things that make her special. She is still witty and fun, and she is still very kind. And she still gives some of the greatest hugs in the world. And before I leave each visit, she says Thank You and I Love You. This is enough.
Nana has lost a total of 14 pounds since moving 7 months ago, despite a good appetite and great attention by her caregivers. (She is cute-- when I weigh her, she smiles and cheers when her weight has gone down-- I remind her that we don't want her to lose weight; but like most women, she still likes to see the scale go down..) We had the occupational therapist watch her eating habits and make sure that she wasn't losing any fine motor skills that would make eating more difficult-- she was fine with her eating utensils. But she did note that she was easily distracted, so she eats in a quieter environment to help her stay on task. The therapist also noticed that her gait was a bit unsteady, so we invited the physical therapist to take a look. She now goes to "exercise class" twice a week, and she is now using a walker.
Walkers in dementia units are pretty amusing. First off, most residents forget that they have walkers, so part of each day is spent finding everyone's walker. Secondly, residents frequently "borrow" each other's walkers-- this is particularly annoying to Nana ("My name is right on the FRONT. If this is not your name, it is not your walker. It is MINE.") heehee.
Yes, Nana is progressing in this disease called Alzheimers. But it still can't take away all the things that make her special. She is still witty and fun, and she is still very kind. And she still gives some of the greatest hugs in the world. And before I leave each visit, she says Thank You and I Love You. This is enough.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Another hospital visit
As we nurses know, never jinx yourself. We were having a great, "issue-less" day at work yesterday, when one of us uttered those words aloud. Two minutes later, one of our night nurses called out sick. Two minutes after that, my cell phone started ringing.....
Nana was complaining of chest pain. Not unusual, except this time she was also very shaky and weak, and she felt warm to the touch. The ambulance had been called and she was on her way to Milford Hospital. Thanks to my fabulous coworkers, I was out the door in 15 minutes and on my way.
Thanks to a good report from Nana's caregivers, everyone at the emergency room was aware of her strengths (a wonderful attitude) and her weaknesses (a terrible memory at baseline and chronic leukemia.) I was relieved to know that Nana was flirting with the EMT's when they put her on the stretcher...
As always, Nana was very happy to see me, announcing to the medical staff, "This is my daughter Nancy. Aren't I lucky to have her?" She smiled broadly, but her eyes were tired and she looked very weak. Her temp was 103, her heart rate was a little high for her, but she continued to entertain all of those around her. Chest xray negative, urine test negative, blood cultures negative. She sipped some ginger ale and held my hand.
The doctor came in and talked to us about her condition. "She seems to be doing ok now. Temp is down, and all the tests that we have done so far have come back negative. We could keep her overnite and order a few more tests that would be a little more invasive, or we could send her home and watch and wait from there." Since one of the worst things that one can do is take an Alzheimer's patient out of her familiar environment, we voted to watch and wait. We headed happily back to Compass, where Mom was greeted with hugs and squeezes.
I went back to check on her this morning. She slept through the nite, and she had no fever. I told her about our adventures the day before. " I was sick? I went to the HOSPITAL?"
All is well that ends well. And this ended well-- I got an extra hug as I walked out the door :)
Nana was complaining of chest pain. Not unusual, except this time she was also very shaky and weak, and she felt warm to the touch. The ambulance had been called and she was on her way to Milford Hospital. Thanks to my fabulous coworkers, I was out the door in 15 minutes and on my way.
Thanks to a good report from Nana's caregivers, everyone at the emergency room was aware of her strengths (a wonderful attitude) and her weaknesses (a terrible memory at baseline and chronic leukemia.) I was relieved to know that Nana was flirting with the EMT's when they put her on the stretcher...
As always, Nana was very happy to see me, announcing to the medical staff, "This is my daughter Nancy. Aren't I lucky to have her?" She smiled broadly, but her eyes were tired and she looked very weak. Her temp was 103, her heart rate was a little high for her, but she continued to entertain all of those around her. Chest xray negative, urine test negative, blood cultures negative. She sipped some ginger ale and held my hand.
The doctor came in and talked to us about her condition. "She seems to be doing ok now. Temp is down, and all the tests that we have done so far have come back negative. We could keep her overnite and order a few more tests that would be a little more invasive, or we could send her home and watch and wait from there." Since one of the worst things that one can do is take an Alzheimer's patient out of her familiar environment, we voted to watch and wait. We headed happily back to Compass, where Mom was greeted with hugs and squeezes.
I went back to check on her this morning. She slept through the nite, and she had no fever. I told her about our adventures the day before. " I was sick? I went to the HOSPITAL?"
All is well that ends well. And this ended well-- I got an extra hug as I walked out the door :)
Monday, July 9, 2012
A nice surprise
It has been a busy few weeks, and I haven't been in as often to see Nana. In fact, I needed to drop off some supplies and refill meds for the morning, so I needed to go over after work, at 8:30pm.
Nighttime is not a fun time to visit an Alzheimer's unit. People are especially confused at nite, and people tend to be more agitated. One time I went, and my mother wanted me to break up a fight between two gentlemen. Another time, Mom was so confused it made me cry. So I avoid going over after dark whenever I can.
I left work and prayed that Nana would be fast asleep when I arrived. I opened the door to the unit, and I saw that most residents were awake. Two were having a snack in the dining room. One woman was dressed in her raincoat, and she told me that she was just waiting for her ride. I said to one of the workers, "Is my Mom asleep?"
"Oh no," he answered, "She is down with the group in the sunroom." I braced myself for the sight.
She was sitting in a chair, in the group. I walked over and rubbed her head. She turned, smiled and said, "That feels good. Oh-- I knew that would be you!!!"
She mentioned that she hadn't seen me in awhile. "I knew you would be stopping by. I just said today- 'I wonder when I will see Nancy, and here you are!"
She knew my name! Even after 8pm! I was so excited.
She told me that she missed me. I told her where I had been-- at work, with my sister Anne and family at the beach, with a friend at the doctors. She said that she was happy that I was having fun with Anne, and said that she would be praying for my friend. I told her that I would be back on Monday to spend more time with her and she said that would be wonderful-- "But if something comes up, I understand-- you have a very busy life, and I don't want to be a burden."
I told her that I was leaving, but if she needed me there was always one place she could find me. I tapped her heart, then tapped mine.
"Oh honey, I know that you are always there. That must be why I smile so much."
Me too, Mom. Me too.
Nighttime is not a fun time to visit an Alzheimer's unit. People are especially confused at nite, and people tend to be more agitated. One time I went, and my mother wanted me to break up a fight between two gentlemen. Another time, Mom was so confused it made me cry. So I avoid going over after dark whenever I can.
I left work and prayed that Nana would be fast asleep when I arrived. I opened the door to the unit, and I saw that most residents were awake. Two were having a snack in the dining room. One woman was dressed in her raincoat, and she told me that she was just waiting for her ride. I said to one of the workers, "Is my Mom asleep?"
"Oh no," he answered, "She is down with the group in the sunroom." I braced myself for the sight.
She was sitting in a chair, in the group. I walked over and rubbed her head. She turned, smiled and said, "That feels good. Oh-- I knew that would be you!!!"
She mentioned that she hadn't seen me in awhile. "I knew you would be stopping by. I just said today- 'I wonder when I will see Nancy, and here you are!"
She knew my name! Even after 8pm! I was so excited.
She told me that she missed me. I told her where I had been-- at work, with my sister Anne and family at the beach, with a friend at the doctors. She said that she was happy that I was having fun with Anne, and said that she would be praying for my friend. I told her that I would be back on Monday to spend more time with her and she said that would be wonderful-- "But if something comes up, I understand-- you have a very busy life, and I don't want to be a burden."
I told her that I was leaving, but if she needed me there was always one place she could find me. I tapped her heart, then tapped mine.
"Oh honey, I know that you are always there. That must be why I smile so much."
Me too, Mom. Me too.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Quote of the Day
I got this doozy from Michelle, the Activities Director at Nana's home.
Michelle was having a discussion about God and spirituality with the residents. In order to solicit responses, Michelle asked, "If you could be God, what is the first thing you would do?"
Nana was the first to pipe up with a response.
"I'd resign!!!"
heeheehee
Michelle was having a discussion about God and spirituality with the residents. In order to solicit responses, Michelle asked, "If you could be God, what is the first thing you would do?"
Nana was the first to pipe up with a response.
"I'd resign!!!"
heeheehee
Monday, June 11, 2012
Church with Nana
Anyone who knows my Mom well knows that she is a devout Catholic. Not a holy roller, you're going to Hell and I 'm not because I'm Catholic kind of devout, but a never miss a Sunday Mass you know I'm a Christian by my Love kind of devout... She believes deeply in God and trusts that He will help her through whatever he has planned for her.
Alzheimers is an interesting disease. When one has worsening Alzheimer's, one tends to lose a timeline-- so she could go to Mass every day and never remember, or she could go once a month and think that she has gone every day. Taking her outside her "comfort zone", i.e. her home at Compass, is often quite confusing for her. So my philosophy was that if she asked to go to Mass, I would find a Catholic church closeby and I would take her to Mass. Last week, she told the CNA's that she missed Mass. So this past week, I investigated the local parish and found a daily 9am Mass.
We entered the chapel Friday morning, about 10 minutes prior to Mass. The priest, a quiet young man, was making copies at the copy machine outside the chapel. I walked over with Nana, quickly introduced myself and then introduced Nana. He seemed rather disinterested, looking at me fleetingly, shaking our hands and then grunting while walking away. Okaaayyyy.... I feel welcomed. Sigh.
We walked into the chapel and sat down in one of the pews. Others shuffled in and sat down in various pews around the altar. One woman walked in carrying a glass of water and a notebook, and proceeded to study the contents within while sipping from her cup in the front row. (Really, I thought, if you are going to multi-task and pay only half-attention, perhaps you should sit in the back row?)
The priest finished setting up the altar, put on his vestments and stood to the side of the altar. Everyone stood and read the entrance antiphon as he moved towards the pulpit. Once he had everyones attention, he started Mass. With the musical lifting of his hands and his quick gestures and expressions, I realized that the priest was deaf and the Mass would be in sign language. The woman in the front row? She was the interpreter, and she was reciting the Mass for those of us who couldn't understand sign language-- she had a cold, the priest explained, which was why she was sipping the water. I am a bad, bad person for making such quick judgments, in church of all places! Ha!
After Mass, I asked Nana if she noticed anything different about the priest.
"Oh, he seems very nice. And he is very expressive!"
"Did you notice that he was deaf, and the woman in the front row was interpreting for him?"
"No! Really?" She was silent for a moment, then continued, "I guess it is getting harder to find good priests nowadays." Oy... :)
And if you ever get the chance to go to a Mass for the deaf, please go. I have to say it was probably one of the best Masses that I have gone to in awhile....
Alzheimers is an interesting disease. When one has worsening Alzheimer's, one tends to lose a timeline-- so she could go to Mass every day and never remember, or she could go once a month and think that she has gone every day. Taking her outside her "comfort zone", i.e. her home at Compass, is often quite confusing for her. So my philosophy was that if she asked to go to Mass, I would find a Catholic church closeby and I would take her to Mass. Last week, she told the CNA's that she missed Mass. So this past week, I investigated the local parish and found a daily 9am Mass.
We entered the chapel Friday morning, about 10 minutes prior to Mass. The priest, a quiet young man, was making copies at the copy machine outside the chapel. I walked over with Nana, quickly introduced myself and then introduced Nana. He seemed rather disinterested, looking at me fleetingly, shaking our hands and then grunting while walking away. Okaaayyyy.... I feel welcomed. Sigh.
We walked into the chapel and sat down in one of the pews. Others shuffled in and sat down in various pews around the altar. One woman walked in carrying a glass of water and a notebook, and proceeded to study the contents within while sipping from her cup in the front row. (Really, I thought, if you are going to multi-task and pay only half-attention, perhaps you should sit in the back row?)
The priest finished setting up the altar, put on his vestments and stood to the side of the altar. Everyone stood and read the entrance antiphon as he moved towards the pulpit. Once he had everyones attention, he started Mass. With the musical lifting of his hands and his quick gestures and expressions, I realized that the priest was deaf and the Mass would be in sign language. The woman in the front row? She was the interpreter, and she was reciting the Mass for those of us who couldn't understand sign language-- she had a cold, the priest explained, which was why she was sipping the water. I am a bad, bad person for making such quick judgments, in church of all places! Ha!
After Mass, I asked Nana if she noticed anything different about the priest.
"Oh, he seems very nice. And he is very expressive!"
"Did you notice that he was deaf, and the woman in the front row was interpreting for him?"
"No! Really?" She was silent for a moment, then continued, "I guess it is getting harder to find good priests nowadays." Oy... :)
And if you ever get the chance to go to a Mass for the deaf, please go. I have to say it was probably one of the best Masses that I have gone to in awhile....
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Banging your head against a wall
Nana had a check up last week. Becky and I headed to Compass to pick her up, and Nana was very excited to go. We packed her up into the car, and we headed to Worcester.
"I miss my car. I've been thinking of picking up another one, just so I can run an errand or two."
Uhoh.
"Oh Mom, I don't mind picking up stuff for you. And if you want to go somewhere, just let me know."
"I hate to be a bother. And it might be nice just to get out once in awhile. Although when I think about getting a car, I start thinking about the cost of gas, the taxes, renewing my license..." (not knowing where you are going, I think to myself...)
"True! I don't think it would be worth it." I laugh. "I think it would be better if you just got yourself a driver. That way, you won't get lost and you won't have to worry about all those taxes."
"A driver? Oh no. I am not in the market to get another husband!" Hmmm.
We arrived at the doctor's, and Nana greeted everyone with a smile and a laugh. She was brought into the office and weighed-- she has lost 12 pounds since moving to Compass. (This may have a lot to do with the fact that she no longer forgets that she has already eaten... And she is no longer eating pancakes with sugared strawberries and whipped cream every morning.. but I will keep my eye on this.)
She greeted the doctor and said that she is feeling great. As always, her vital signs were perfect-- heartrate 60, bp 110/64, afebrile. She showed the doctor a few spots on her skin ("I think my Alzheimers is showing") and spoke of how happy she is in her new home.
The doctor looked at Becky and I and said, "Her laughter is back." I looked at her, a little puzzled.
She went on, "It is clear that the move to a dementia care unit was the right one. Your Mom had lost a bit of her laughter and her wit at the last visit, which was worrying. But it is definitely back. Her other home was nice, but she needed more but didn't even know it. It's like when you are banging your head against a wall and you have a headache-- but you don't realize that you have a headache until you stop banging your head."
We headed back to Compass.
"This has been fun! I've enjoyed this visit with you two."
Becky and I agreed.
"I've been thinking about picking up a car, so I can run an errand or two..."
"I miss my car. I've been thinking of picking up another one, just so I can run an errand or two."
Uhoh.
"Oh Mom, I don't mind picking up stuff for you. And if you want to go somewhere, just let me know."
"I hate to be a bother. And it might be nice just to get out once in awhile. Although when I think about getting a car, I start thinking about the cost of gas, the taxes, renewing my license..." (not knowing where you are going, I think to myself...)
"True! I don't think it would be worth it." I laugh. "I think it would be better if you just got yourself a driver. That way, you won't get lost and you won't have to worry about all those taxes."
"A driver? Oh no. I am not in the market to get another husband!" Hmmm.
We arrived at the doctor's, and Nana greeted everyone with a smile and a laugh. She was brought into the office and weighed-- she has lost 12 pounds since moving to Compass. (This may have a lot to do with the fact that she no longer forgets that she has already eaten... And she is no longer eating pancakes with sugared strawberries and whipped cream every morning.. but I will keep my eye on this.)
She greeted the doctor and said that she is feeling great. As always, her vital signs were perfect-- heartrate 60, bp 110/64, afebrile. She showed the doctor a few spots on her skin ("I think my Alzheimers is showing") and spoke of how happy she is in her new home.
The doctor looked at Becky and I and said, "Her laughter is back." I looked at her, a little puzzled.
She went on, "It is clear that the move to a dementia care unit was the right one. Your Mom had lost a bit of her laughter and her wit at the last visit, which was worrying. But it is definitely back. Her other home was nice, but she needed more but didn't even know it. It's like when you are banging your head against a wall and you have a headache-- but you don't realize that you have a headache until you stop banging your head."
We headed back to Compass.
"This has been fun! I've enjoyed this visit with you two."
Becky and I agreed.
"I've been thinking about picking up a car, so I can run an errand or two..."
Friday, May 4, 2012
a Lifetime Achievement Award
I spoke to Michelle at Compass one day. She said, "Nancy, did you know that we have a family meeting every last Wednesday of the month? This month, we are going to honor your mother with a lifetime achievement award."
Hmmm... Not quite sure what this is, but it sounds like fun. I think the best way to describe this would be to say that this award gives the staff a chance to introduce different residents to the families. We learn a little about each resident's past, since the residents themselves are often unable to describe their accomplishments.
The meeting started with general announcements, and we learned of the many adventures that the residents were having. This was such a nice time-- I know that my mother is very happy-- but she is unable to really tell me what she has been doing. Near the end of the meeting, Nana Pap was ushered into the meeting room.
Nana entered like the true star that she is. The staff had given her a makeover (Mom would be so happy to know that she was introduced while wearing lipstick-- heehee!) She had on some of her jewelry, and her nails were finely manicured. She beamed at everyone in the room, even winking at a few.
Michelle introduced Nana and described many of her accomplishments. At the end, she gave Nana a framed certificate. Nana graciously took her award.
"Thank you so much!," Nana exclaimed. "You know," she continued while looking around the room, "I couldn't be who I am without the help of every one of you." (Truth be told, she had seen only about 1/4 of the people in the room before in her life...)
She continued. "I just love people. I love ALL people!!"
She was quiet for a moment. "Well," she said slyly... "Not all people. There are a few people I don't like..." Everyone laughed as she winked and looked around the room.
"Uhoh! Time to change subjects!," announced my husband with a laugh. Nana gave him a little squeeze and laughed too.
The evening ended with some snacks, and people started walking around the room. Nana worked the entire crowd, giving hugs, shaking hands and thanking everyone for coming. It was truly a special nite. Thanks again, Compass.
Hmmm... Not quite sure what this is, but it sounds like fun. I think the best way to describe this would be to say that this award gives the staff a chance to introduce different residents to the families. We learn a little about each resident's past, since the residents themselves are often unable to describe their accomplishments.
The meeting started with general announcements, and we learned of the many adventures that the residents were having. This was such a nice time-- I know that my mother is very happy-- but she is unable to really tell me what she has been doing. Near the end of the meeting, Nana Pap was ushered into the meeting room.
Nana entered like the true star that she is. The staff had given her a makeover (Mom would be so happy to know that she was introduced while wearing lipstick-- heehee!) She had on some of her jewelry, and her nails were finely manicured. She beamed at everyone in the room, even winking at a few.
Michelle introduced Nana and described many of her accomplishments. At the end, she gave Nana a framed certificate. Nana graciously took her award.
"Thank you so much!," Nana exclaimed. "You know," she continued while looking around the room, "I couldn't be who I am without the help of every one of you." (Truth be told, she had seen only about 1/4 of the people in the room before in her life...)
She continued. "I just love people. I love ALL people!!"
She was quiet for a moment. "Well," she said slyly... "Not all people. There are a few people I don't like..." Everyone laughed as she winked and looked around the room.
"Uhoh! Time to change subjects!," announced my husband with a laugh. Nana gave him a little squeeze and laughed too.
The evening ended with some snacks, and people started walking around the room. Nana worked the entire crowd, giving hugs, shaking hands and thanking everyone for coming. It was truly a special nite. Thanks again, Compass.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Puppy Love
Tom and I made the crazy decision to get a second puppy last month. Our 3-year old pup, Bea, is slowly losing her eyesight, so we decided to get her a "seeing eye puppy" to help her navigate as her vision fades. I figure, while our new pup, Buck, is helping Bea, we could also bring him to Compass to help the residents there.
As expected, Buck caused quite a stir at Compass. He happily went from chair to wheelchair to walker, greeting everyone in sight. Faces brightened as he stopped for a pat or a scratch, and many residents asked questions about him.
One of my favorite conversations:
"Do you mind if I ask how much he cost?"
"Nope. He was $600. A bit expensive, eh?"
"$600 THOUSAND DOLLARS???? WOW!"
"Oh, no-- six HUNDRED dollars."
"Ohhh.... That's reasonable." Heehee.
One thing about Buck, though. He loves everybody equally. Nana was kind of hoping for top billing. She said, "I don't think he likes me all that much."
"I'll solve that, Mom," I said, handing her a few dog treats then turning to pick up Buck. Mom promptly put the treats in her mouth.
"Mom!," I said, startling her. "Those are for the dog!" She laughed, spit them out, and quickly recovered.
"I just thought if I put them in my mouth, my breath would be more appealling to the puppy."
Now, that's quick thinking and a great recovery. The workers and I laughed with her. Never a dull moment.
As expected, Buck caused quite a stir at Compass. He happily went from chair to wheelchair to walker, greeting everyone in sight. Faces brightened as he stopped for a pat or a scratch, and many residents asked questions about him.
One of my favorite conversations:
"Do you mind if I ask how much he cost?"
"Nope. He was $600. A bit expensive, eh?"
"$600 THOUSAND DOLLARS???? WOW!"
"Oh, no-- six HUNDRED dollars."
"Ohhh.... That's reasonable." Heehee.
One thing about Buck, though. He loves everybody equally. Nana was kind of hoping for top billing. She said, "I don't think he likes me all that much."
"I'll solve that, Mom," I said, handing her a few dog treats then turning to pick up Buck. Mom promptly put the treats in her mouth.
"Mom!," I said, startling her. "Those are for the dog!" She laughed, spit them out, and quickly recovered.
"I just thought if I put them in my mouth, my breath would be more appealling to the puppy."
Now, that's quick thinking and a great recovery. The workers and I laughed with her. Never a dull moment.
She's Baaack!!!
I must admit, the last couple months have been tough. And I like to keep things cheery, so I was having trouble finding words. First off, let me say that Nana is fine. As we changed environments from Southgate to Compass, we hit a rough patch, naturally. Everything was brand new, and new is not exciting or comforting to people losing their memory.
My biggest worry? I was afraid that the staff of Compass would never really meet "Mom"-- her wit, her ready smile, her willingness to help those around her. I have such love and admiration for her-- I was afraid that she would be spending her last days with people who would never know the truly magical essence that is Nana Pap.
A few weeks ago, feeling a little low, I asked Michelle, the Activities Director, if Nana participated in many of the activities-- she seemed to sleep through so many activities when I was around.
Michelle face lit up. "Your Mom is great! She comes up with some of the greatest comments. She is always so positive, looking forward to the activities to come, as well as participating in the present. I love hearing her perspective on things when I show a picture and ask for comments. In fact, I was just saying at a meeting the other day-- When I get older, I want to be Jane Papineau!"
My wonderful, inspiring, awesome, helpful, loving Mom is still there, and Compass has met her. YIPPEE!!!
My biggest worry? I was afraid that the staff of Compass would never really meet "Mom"-- her wit, her ready smile, her willingness to help those around her. I have such love and admiration for her-- I was afraid that she would be spending her last days with people who would never know the truly magical essence that is Nana Pap.
A few weeks ago, feeling a little low, I asked Michelle, the Activities Director, if Nana participated in many of the activities-- she seemed to sleep through so many activities when I was around.
Michelle face lit up. "Your Mom is great! She comes up with some of the greatest comments. She is always so positive, looking forward to the activities to come, as well as participating in the present. I love hearing her perspective on things when I show a picture and ask for comments. In fact, I was just saying at a meeting the other day-- When I get older, I want to be Jane Papineau!"
My wonderful, inspiring, awesome, helpful, loving Mom is still there, and Compass has met her. YIPPEE!!!
Monday, March 26, 2012
March 26
I'm never sure how long my visits will last. Sometimes, Mom greets me warmly and tells me stories about her adventures on the unit. Other times, I am quickly dismissed.
Today was situation #2. I found Mom in the community room, listening to a lesson on the Olympics. (Actually, I found her snoozing during a lesson on the Olympics...) I received many hellos from the residents and workers as I slipped in to see Mom. I stopped in front of her chair and squatted down to her level. I touched both of her arms, but she remained quiet with her eyes closed. The woman sitting next to her nudged her and said, "You have a visitor." Mom looked up and said, "I have two visitors!" Hmmm... The woman asked her who I was. "Oh, she knows who she is," she said, smiling at me. I asked her if she would like to go for a walk.
"Oh, not right now. I think I will just rest for awhile."
I kissed the top of her head, and I told her that I loved her.
"Oh, I love you too, honey."
I headed out the door.
Today was situation #2. I found Mom in the community room, listening to a lesson on the Olympics. (Actually, I found her snoozing during a lesson on the Olympics...) I received many hellos from the residents and workers as I slipped in to see Mom. I stopped in front of her chair and squatted down to her level. I touched both of her arms, but she remained quiet with her eyes closed. The woman sitting next to her nudged her and said, "You have a visitor." Mom looked up and said, "I have two visitors!" Hmmm... The woman asked her who I was. "Oh, she knows who she is," she said, smiling at me. I asked her if she would like to go for a walk.
"Oh, not right now. I think I will just rest for awhile."
I kissed the top of her head, and I told her that I loved her.
"Oh, I love you too, honey."
I headed out the door.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Visiting with Eddie
We stopped by Nana's on Wednesday, so that Ed could visit with his grandmother. I warned him that she had deteriorated a bit since Christmas-- she may or may not recognize him, and he may not even react to seeing him at all. He understood.
We entered the unit and were greeted by Jessie, another one of the residents. Arms outstretched, she reached towards us to say hello. I smiled and reached towards her for a hug. She tickled me under my arms and laughed. "You've always loved when I do that!" I then received a kiss and a hug; then she played with my messy, curly hair. She saw Eddie next. "Oooooo"..... She gave him a hug and pulled his beard. "You are good looking!" She returned her attention to my hair.
"This hair is beautiful. You are beautiful!," she said, then turned back to Ed.
"Now you-- you are good looking. And that is very nice too." Ha!
We walked back towards the community room and found Nana doing yoga with many others. She didn't see us as she followed the directions of the yoga instructor on the video. We watched for a few minutes, not wanting to interrupt the class. Nana followed about 50% of the exercises. I noticed how thin her legs had become-- Mom had always been an athlete, whether playing softball as a teen, tennis as a Mom, or hiking with my father in South Carolina during retirement. Muscle tone is now deteriorating. During a short break, I took the seat next to her and said hello. She patted my hand and absently said hello. "Hi Mom." I said, "Do you see the fellow over there?" She looked up and saw Ed, who waved to her and smiled. She smiled back and said to me, "Clemson. He must be related to you!" I agreed, and told her that he was Eddie, her grandson. Ed came over, gave her a kiss, and sat in the chair next to her. I left the room to fill her medications and returned 5 minutes later.
As I entered the room, Nana's face lit up and she opened her arms. "Heyyyyyy, you're here!" I received a big, healthy Mom hug. As we left, Ed also received a big hug from his grandmother. Did she know who he was? Maybe not. But she did know that she loves him, and he loves her. And that's the most important thing of all.
We entered the unit and were greeted by Jessie, another one of the residents. Arms outstretched, she reached towards us to say hello. I smiled and reached towards her for a hug. She tickled me under my arms and laughed. "You've always loved when I do that!" I then received a kiss and a hug; then she played with my messy, curly hair. She saw Eddie next. "Oooooo"..... She gave him a hug and pulled his beard. "You are good looking!" She returned her attention to my hair.
"This hair is beautiful. You are beautiful!," she said, then turned back to Ed.
"Now you-- you are good looking. And that is very nice too." Ha!
We walked back towards the community room and found Nana doing yoga with many others. She didn't see us as she followed the directions of the yoga instructor on the video. We watched for a few minutes, not wanting to interrupt the class. Nana followed about 50% of the exercises. I noticed how thin her legs had become-- Mom had always been an athlete, whether playing softball as a teen, tennis as a Mom, or hiking with my father in South Carolina during retirement. Muscle tone is now deteriorating. During a short break, I took the seat next to her and said hello. She patted my hand and absently said hello. "Hi Mom." I said, "Do you see the fellow over there?" She looked up and saw Ed, who waved to her and smiled. She smiled back and said to me, "Clemson. He must be related to you!" I agreed, and told her that he was Eddie, her grandson. Ed came over, gave her a kiss, and sat in the chair next to her. I left the room to fill her medications and returned 5 minutes later.
As I entered the room, Nana's face lit up and she opened her arms. "Heyyyyyy, you're here!" I received a big, healthy Mom hug. As we left, Ed also received a big hug from his grandmother. Did she know who he was? Maybe not. But she did know that she loves him, and he loves her. And that's the most important thing of all.
Friday, March 16, 2012
The 30-Day Review
Nana has officially been at her new home for 30 days, so today was Review Day. This has been a month of ups and downs, so I felt like a Mom going to her child's teacher conference. Did she follow directions? Did she play well with others?
The first few weeks of moving in, I heard from the facility every day. Nana had a cold; she was incontinent. She needed more pajamas....she wasn't sleeping... wasn't quite as strong as they thought when they interviewed her... her suite mate was moving out because she was bothered by Nana rifling through her drawers at 2am... Uh oh. Despite their many reassurances that she was doing fine, I worried.
But during the last week, I hadn't received any phone calls. Did this mean that she was starting to adapt to her new routine? Fingers and toes crossed; all the saints were summoned-- "Please help Mom adjust..."
Prayers answered. Yes, she is a little further along in her Alzheimers than they first expected; but she is making friends, joining in on all activities, and getting along well with her new roommate. The staff is enjoying her quick wit and her easygoing spirit.
After the meeting, I walked into the activity room and I received a big smile of recognition. I sat at her feet and stayed for the lesson on Ireland. Nana was very engaged, and didn't ask to leave with me. At the end of her "class", I told her that it was time for me to get going-- Eddie was returning home from college tomorrow, and I needed to clean the house and go grocery shopping. "Oh, don't bother cleaning the house. Just pick up lots of food-- he will be hungry!" Ha-- she was right about that :)
As for the lesson on Ireland, I had two favorite parts. The first was when the activities director said, "Patience is a virtue." Mom quickly added, "And virtue is a grace. Put them both together and you get a pretty face." :)
The second was when the Irish gentleman in a kelly green sweater sang "Danny Boy" in a shaky yet beautiful voice. He told me that he has been a singer all his life, but his Dad taught him that "Danny Boy" is not sung with the voice-- it must be sung with the soul.
Peter, you still have plenty of soul. And Mom, your face is beautiful.
The first few weeks of moving in, I heard from the facility every day. Nana had a cold; she was incontinent. She needed more pajamas....she wasn't sleeping... wasn't quite as strong as they thought when they interviewed her... her suite mate was moving out because she was bothered by Nana rifling through her drawers at 2am... Uh oh. Despite their many reassurances that she was doing fine, I worried.
But during the last week, I hadn't received any phone calls. Did this mean that she was starting to adapt to her new routine? Fingers and toes crossed; all the saints were summoned-- "Please help Mom adjust..."
Prayers answered. Yes, she is a little further along in her Alzheimers than they first expected; but she is making friends, joining in on all activities, and getting along well with her new roommate. The staff is enjoying her quick wit and her easygoing spirit.
After the meeting, I walked into the activity room and I received a big smile of recognition. I sat at her feet and stayed for the lesson on Ireland. Nana was very engaged, and didn't ask to leave with me. At the end of her "class", I told her that it was time for me to get going-- Eddie was returning home from college tomorrow, and I needed to clean the house and go grocery shopping. "Oh, don't bother cleaning the house. Just pick up lots of food-- he will be hungry!" Ha-- she was right about that :)
As for the lesson on Ireland, I had two favorite parts. The first was when the activities director said, "Patience is a virtue." Mom quickly added, "And virtue is a grace. Put them both together and you get a pretty face." :)
The second was when the Irish gentleman in a kelly green sweater sang "Danny Boy" in a shaky yet beautiful voice. He told me that he has been a singer all his life, but his Dad taught him that "Danny Boy" is not sung with the voice-- it must be sung with the soul.
Peter, you still have plenty of soul. And Mom, your face is beautiful.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Packing up Memories
We gave a 30-day notice at Nana's former home on the week that she left, in order to move out her "stuff" without her well-meaning assistance... Luckily, my sister Mary was able to come out and help with the task.
I thought I was up for this adventure. How tough could it be to pack up a two bedroom apartment and a large storage area? No problem... Ha! We arrived with boxes, tape, paper, markers, and a camera. We wanted to document everything so that our siblings could choose amongst the "booty" left behind. Our plan? Pack up everything, then put it in storage for 1 year so everyone could come retrieve whatever they wished to take.
I stepped into the kitchen and looked around, trying to decide where to start. I didn't move, or start. Thankfully, Mary brought me out of my stress-induced inertia-- "C'mon Nancy-- why don't we start by making separate boxes for each family, a "give-away" pile, and start measuring all the furniture and pictures?" We were on our way.
I started in the back bedroom. Mary started in the living room. We both rooted through drawers, finding many items in very strange places. We found six sets of keys to Nana's apartment-- as suspected, no one had been "stealing" her keys, except for her Alzheimer's doppelganger-- who was hiding them in random drawers, purses or pairs of socks. We found 17 packages of maxipads, an obsession Nana had for a few months last year. Random tissues, new and used, were stuffed everywhere. But most of all, Mary and I found memories.
"Look-- I found drawings that Rachael and Dominic made!"
"Ha-- look at these pictures. John with hair!"
"Oh, this plate always makes me think of ________"
We were amused by how different our memories were at times. Though we are only 4 years apart, Mary's experiences were different-- things that I picked up sometimes held less interest to her. She shared stories with me that I had no memories about.
The pictures and letters we found said so much about our parents and our families. Mom saved all of our letters that we sent during college-- we were tempted to stop and read them all, but we behaved ourselves and threw the letters into each child's box. We saved another two boxes of interesting family history to share with the grandchildren this summer. The many pictures and writings illustrated what was most important to our parents-- our family, their love for each other, and the strength they found from their Catholic faith.
We also found many notes that Mom started writing as she realized that she was losing her memory. Sadly, almost every attempt started with "I'm having trouble remembering things, so I think I should probably write down my memories now." Unfortunately, none of these notes were finished.
On Tuesday, we will move Nana's belongings to a storage facility, and Southgate will be but a memory for me. I will miss the many lunches I shared with the ladies of Southgate. I will miss listening to their stories. I will miss Mass at the chapel, said with such reverence by the retired priests who reside there. And I will be forever grateful for the love the residents and caregivers shared with our Mom.
I thought I was up for this adventure. How tough could it be to pack up a two bedroom apartment and a large storage area? No problem... Ha! We arrived with boxes, tape, paper, markers, and a camera. We wanted to document everything so that our siblings could choose amongst the "booty" left behind. Our plan? Pack up everything, then put it in storage for 1 year so everyone could come retrieve whatever they wished to take.
I stepped into the kitchen and looked around, trying to decide where to start. I didn't move, or start. Thankfully, Mary brought me out of my stress-induced inertia-- "C'mon Nancy-- why don't we start by making separate boxes for each family, a "give-away" pile, and start measuring all the furniture and pictures?" We were on our way.
I started in the back bedroom. Mary started in the living room. We both rooted through drawers, finding many items in very strange places. We found six sets of keys to Nana's apartment-- as suspected, no one had been "stealing" her keys, except for her Alzheimer's doppelganger-- who was hiding them in random drawers, purses or pairs of socks. We found 17 packages of maxipads, an obsession Nana had for a few months last year. Random tissues, new and used, were stuffed everywhere. But most of all, Mary and I found memories.
"Look-- I found drawings that Rachael and Dominic made!"
"Ha-- look at these pictures. John with hair!"
"Oh, this plate always makes me think of ________"
We were amused by how different our memories were at times. Though we are only 4 years apart, Mary's experiences were different-- things that I picked up sometimes held less interest to her. She shared stories with me that I had no memories about.
The pictures and letters we found said so much about our parents and our families. Mom saved all of our letters that we sent during college-- we were tempted to stop and read them all, but we behaved ourselves and threw the letters into each child's box. We saved another two boxes of interesting family history to share with the grandchildren this summer. The many pictures and writings illustrated what was most important to our parents-- our family, their love for each other, and the strength they found from their Catholic faith.
We also found many notes that Mom started writing as she realized that she was losing her memory. Sadly, almost every attempt started with "I'm having trouble remembering things, so I think I should probably write down my memories now." Unfortunately, none of these notes were finished.
On Tuesday, we will move Nana's belongings to a storage facility, and Southgate will be but a memory for me. I will miss the many lunches I shared with the ladies of Southgate. I will miss listening to their stories. I will miss Mass at the chapel, said with such reverence by the retired priests who reside there. And I will be forever grateful for the love the residents and caregivers shared with our Mom.
Moving Pains
In this blog, I like to tell funny stories and share the many ways that Nana is coping with her disease. She is the epitome of "grace under pressure;" but some times are tougher than others. Right now, we are both feeling "moving pains".
As I have mentioned before, change is very difficult for those with Alzheimers. They cope by living within the familiar; new experiences and places are very frightening, no matter how kind those around you are. Change was necessary, in order to keep Nana safe; and the people at Compass are beyond kind and caring. But the change has been rough.
Since moving in, she has been very confused, and her behaviours have changed drastically. Her gait has changed, leaning more to the left and walking with her head down. She smiles and says, "Nancy!" when she sees me, but then quickly forgets who I am. She joins in during the activities, but seems to be very detached as well. Dressing and swallowing pills has become a challenge (though meals are NOT a problem ;). We have finally been able to help her sleep at nite; but now she is also fighting a cold. The facility is closely monitoring her temperature and giving her some cough medicine.
Nana's caregivers say that her decline is not at all unusual. Most residents start to clear after about a month; but sometimes, Alzheimers does not move slowly and takes a precipitous drop. I am praying that this move is a temporary setback.
Either way, Nana remains pleasant and kind. She likes her new home, and enjoys her new friends. She continues to put a positive spin on everything around her. May I continue to learn from her.
As I have mentioned before, change is very difficult for those with Alzheimers. They cope by living within the familiar; new experiences and places are very frightening, no matter how kind those around you are. Change was necessary, in order to keep Nana safe; and the people at Compass are beyond kind and caring. But the change has been rough.
Since moving in, she has been very confused, and her behaviours have changed drastically. Her gait has changed, leaning more to the left and walking with her head down. She smiles and says, "Nancy!" when she sees me, but then quickly forgets who I am. She joins in during the activities, but seems to be very detached as well. Dressing and swallowing pills has become a challenge (though meals are NOT a problem ;). We have finally been able to help her sleep at nite; but now she is also fighting a cold. The facility is closely monitoring her temperature and giving her some cough medicine.
Nana's caregivers say that her decline is not at all unusual. Most residents start to clear after about a month; but sometimes, Alzheimers does not move slowly and takes a precipitous drop. I am praying that this move is a temporary setback.
Either way, Nana remains pleasant and kind. She likes her new home, and enjoys her new friends. She continues to put a positive spin on everything around her. May I continue to learn from her.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
The Big Move
We woke up Monday morning to a beautiful sunny day-- perfect moving weather. My sister Anne, Tom and I came up with a strategy to make the move as smooth for Nana as possible. I arrived at 8am and brought Nana to church, while Anne and Tom went to the apartment and got ready for the movers.
At church, one of the members asked me when Nana was moving. I told them that she was moving today, after breakfast. "Does she know?" Yes, I said, we talked about it earlier in the morning, and she was looking forward to the move.
At the end of Mass, the priest spoke. "Today is our last day with our friend, Jane Papineau, and I have said Mass for you. We will all miss your smile and your bright spirit, and we will pray for you always." Nana was very touched, and she received many hugs as we left the chapel. Breakfast followed, and I received a text on my phone stating "All's clear. The movers have left the apartment, and we are on our way."
I can't express how lucky we are when it comes to moving Nana. Since she moved so often with my father, a new home is met with excitement, not fear or sadness. "It's a chance to make new friends" was always her mantra, and this has not changed.
"So, where am I going?"
" You are moving to a place that specializes in helping people with Alzheimers. Everyone there has Alzheimers, just like you, and the people there work with Boston University's Alzheimers Research center. You live in a dorm-like setting. You will have your own bedroom, but will share a common area and a bathroom with another resident."
"Oh, that sounds wonderful. I could definitely use the help to get this brain working!"
We went to Nana's apartment, and she grabbed a stuffed animal and two decorative pillows from her second bedroom, saying that she would definitely need them in her new home. We said goodbye to the many wonderful workers at Southgate, and said goodbye to a few residents who were in the hallway. We tried to leave as quietly as possible, since I did not want to upset residents who would be very uncomfortable with the change.
We arrived in Hopkinton at 11:30. Tom greeted us at the door, and Anne waited upstairs near her apartment. As we entered the unit, residents were sitting down for lunch. Nana sat next to her new roommate, as we removed her jacket and hung it in her room. We gave her a hug, and we headed out to pick up a few things she needed for her first week in her new home.
We returned two hours later, and I was very anxious about how Nana was doing. We walked onto the unit, and we could see her doing exercises with the rest of the residents. She was smiling, and she didn't notice us in the hall. We moved into her room, and Tom hung some of her pictures and we marked the shower supplies that we brought back with us. We could hear singing coming from the common area, Nana's voice rising above the others during "My Wild Irish Rose". We finished our work, and then we debated whether we should even say goodbye to her. Anne and I wanted to say goodbye, so as we stepped out the door, we looked down the hall. Nana was taking a catnap in her chair, and she looked very comfortable. We decided not to interrupt her sleep.
My heart knows that this is the right place for Nana. As Anne said this morning, "It's the circle of life." We know that she will be happier here, and she looks very relaxed and happy. But I still mourn the Nana that would have been, if this awful disease had not robbed her of her memory and independence.
And I thank God for not taking away her sweetness, wit, and ability to move forward and accept her illness with grace.
At church, one of the members asked me when Nana was moving. I told them that she was moving today, after breakfast. "Does she know?" Yes, I said, we talked about it earlier in the morning, and she was looking forward to the move.
At the end of Mass, the priest spoke. "Today is our last day with our friend, Jane Papineau, and I have said Mass for you. We will all miss your smile and your bright spirit, and we will pray for you always." Nana was very touched, and she received many hugs as we left the chapel. Breakfast followed, and I received a text on my phone stating "All's clear. The movers have left the apartment, and we are on our way."
I can't express how lucky we are when it comes to moving Nana. Since she moved so often with my father, a new home is met with excitement, not fear or sadness. "It's a chance to make new friends" was always her mantra, and this has not changed.
"So, where am I going?"
" You are moving to a place that specializes in helping people with Alzheimers. Everyone there has Alzheimers, just like you, and the people there work with Boston University's Alzheimers Research center. You live in a dorm-like setting. You will have your own bedroom, but will share a common area and a bathroom with another resident."
"Oh, that sounds wonderful. I could definitely use the help to get this brain working!"
We went to Nana's apartment, and she grabbed a stuffed animal and two decorative pillows from her second bedroom, saying that she would definitely need them in her new home. We said goodbye to the many wonderful workers at Southgate, and said goodbye to a few residents who were in the hallway. We tried to leave as quietly as possible, since I did not want to upset residents who would be very uncomfortable with the change.
We arrived in Hopkinton at 11:30. Tom greeted us at the door, and Anne waited upstairs near her apartment. As we entered the unit, residents were sitting down for lunch. Nana sat next to her new roommate, as we removed her jacket and hung it in her room. We gave her a hug, and we headed out to pick up a few things she needed for her first week in her new home.
We returned two hours later, and I was very anxious about how Nana was doing. We walked onto the unit, and we could see her doing exercises with the rest of the residents. She was smiling, and she didn't notice us in the hall. We moved into her room, and Tom hung some of her pictures and we marked the shower supplies that we brought back with us. We could hear singing coming from the common area, Nana's voice rising above the others during "My Wild Irish Rose". We finished our work, and then we debated whether we should even say goodbye to her. Anne and I wanted to say goodbye, so as we stepped out the door, we looked down the hall. Nana was taking a catnap in her chair, and she looked very comfortable. We decided not to interrupt her sleep.
My heart knows that this is the right place for Nana. As Anne said this morning, "It's the circle of life." We know that she will be happier here, and she looks very relaxed and happy. But I still mourn the Nana that would have been, if this awful disease had not robbed her of her memory and independence.
And I thank God for not taking away her sweetness, wit, and ability to move forward and accept her illness with grace.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Hospital Visit #3
Change is hard. Imagine people coming up to you and telling you how wonderful you are and how much they are going to miss you. Now, imagine that you don't know what they are talking about. You don't know where you are going. Or are they leaving you? Are you dying? Despite many conversations, Nana is unable to digest the fact that she is moving. (Even though she had asked to move to an Alzheimers facility.) So, Nana showed her anxiety in her usual way. She had chest pain and dizziness, and this time, her dizziness just got worse and worse.
I made it to the emergency room about 45 minutes after Nana was brought in by ambulance. She was hooked up to heart monitors and was wearing oxygen. She gave me a huge smile and thanked me for coming. She had already charmed most of the emergency staff; they had done an EKG and taken blood to check for abnormalities. Her vital signs were marching across the monitors, and they were more stable than mine, I'm sure. We sat and waited for the doctors to decide about her needs.
Bells ringing, people moving quickly by the doorway. Voices calling, people retching-- hospitals are a den of activity. And when one has dementia, this is all very confusing. The doctors came in, and they asked Nana many questions. They asked her who I was. She turned, smiled and said, "Go ahead, you can tell them." I said that my name was Nancy, and Nana added, "And I am so glad that I married her." Hmmm. I laughed.
After the medical team left, Nana continued to try to make sense of her environment and her dizziness. She tried to stand up and leave the room, convinced that she was at a party. "I think I better go greet my guests."
I assured her that she was not at a party, but at the emergency room. "Ohhh... Do I do this a lot?" I said no, she hasn't been in the hospital in over 6 months.
"I'm sorry for doing this." I assured her that she hadn't done anything wrong.
"Do I run with a fast crowd?" Um, no, you have wonderful friends.
It suddenly occurred to me that she thought she was in the ER because she had become drunk. "I guess my parents called the police and had me sent to the hospital".... I told her that she wasn't dizzy because she was drunk-- she did not have anything to drink today. "Oh, thank goodness!"
Nana's disequilibrium continued until we got her to a hospital room for observation overnite. Once in her hospital bed, she hopped out of bed without a complaint of dizziness. The nurses showed her how to call them if she needed to get out of bed. She thanked them for the lesson, and dazzled them with a big smile. As I walked out of the room, I warned the nurse that she should ask for a 1:1 sitter for Nana overnite. "Oh, she is lovely. She will be ok."
When I returned to the hospital the next morning, she had been removed from her room. I found her in a geriatric recliner, sitting next to a 1:1 aide. She was smiling, and chatting with everyone at the desk. I received a big smile and a wave.
As the morning wore on, she became more and more confused. Yes, I became that obnoxious family member who thinks she knows more than the medical staff (sorry, Memorial Hospital.) But the nurse had said that we could leave in 20 minutes, when she would have time to remove her IV and her telemetry monitors. Thirty minutes went by, and Nana was getting worse and worse, not understanding how to dress herself or how to eat, or swallow her pills. I removed her telemetry monitors and unhooked her IV. I dressed her, and I ran downstairs and got a wheelchair for discharge. I went to the nurse's station and waited for the discharge paperwork. The nurse removed the saline lock from Nana's arm and actually thanked me for helping with the discharge (thank goodness.) We headed home, and when we reached her apartment, she was back to her normal level of confusion.
Needless to say, I am a bit nervous about her move to the Alzheimers facility tomorrow. But I am confident that the new staff has had a lot of experience soothing new residents. Either way, I will sleep with my cell phone next to my pillow, just in case.
I made it to the emergency room about 45 minutes after Nana was brought in by ambulance. She was hooked up to heart monitors and was wearing oxygen. She gave me a huge smile and thanked me for coming. She had already charmed most of the emergency staff; they had done an EKG and taken blood to check for abnormalities. Her vital signs were marching across the monitors, and they were more stable than mine, I'm sure. We sat and waited for the doctors to decide about her needs.
Bells ringing, people moving quickly by the doorway. Voices calling, people retching-- hospitals are a den of activity. And when one has dementia, this is all very confusing. The doctors came in, and they asked Nana many questions. They asked her who I was. She turned, smiled and said, "Go ahead, you can tell them." I said that my name was Nancy, and Nana added, "And I am so glad that I married her." Hmmm. I laughed.
After the medical team left, Nana continued to try to make sense of her environment and her dizziness. She tried to stand up and leave the room, convinced that she was at a party. "I think I better go greet my guests."
I assured her that she was not at a party, but at the emergency room. "Ohhh... Do I do this a lot?" I said no, she hasn't been in the hospital in over 6 months.
"I'm sorry for doing this." I assured her that she hadn't done anything wrong.
"Do I run with a fast crowd?" Um, no, you have wonderful friends.
It suddenly occurred to me that she thought she was in the ER because she had become drunk. "I guess my parents called the police and had me sent to the hospital".... I told her that she wasn't dizzy because she was drunk-- she did not have anything to drink today. "Oh, thank goodness!"
Nana's disequilibrium continued until we got her to a hospital room for observation overnite. Once in her hospital bed, she hopped out of bed without a complaint of dizziness. The nurses showed her how to call them if she needed to get out of bed. She thanked them for the lesson, and dazzled them with a big smile. As I walked out of the room, I warned the nurse that she should ask for a 1:1 sitter for Nana overnite. "Oh, she is lovely. She will be ok."
When I returned to the hospital the next morning, she had been removed from her room. I found her in a geriatric recliner, sitting next to a 1:1 aide. She was smiling, and chatting with everyone at the desk. I received a big smile and a wave.
As the morning wore on, she became more and more confused. Yes, I became that obnoxious family member who thinks she knows more than the medical staff (sorry, Memorial Hospital.) But the nurse had said that we could leave in 20 minutes, when she would have time to remove her IV and her telemetry monitors. Thirty minutes went by, and Nana was getting worse and worse, not understanding how to dress herself or how to eat, or swallow her pills. I removed her telemetry monitors and unhooked her IV. I dressed her, and I ran downstairs and got a wheelchair for discharge. I went to the nurse's station and waited for the discharge paperwork. The nurse removed the saline lock from Nana's arm and actually thanked me for helping with the discharge (thank goodness.) We headed home, and when we reached her apartment, she was back to her normal level of confusion.
Needless to say, I am a bit nervous about her move to the Alzheimers facility tomorrow. But I am confident that the new staff has had a lot of experience soothing new residents. Either way, I will sleep with my cell phone next to my pillow, just in case.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Nana's Grace
This post is about the grace that is Nana. Yup, both definitions.
The first definition of grace is "simple elegance or refinement of movement." OK, this is a little tongue-in-cheek. Much like her daughter and author of this blog, we are not always light on our feet. In fact, we find ourselves on our butts every once in a while. Luckily, we have strong bones and healthy senses of humor-- we bounce right back. I had noticed that Nana was limping earlier in the week. She was complaining of soreness in her left leg, radiating from her hip to her knee. Did she fall? No one observed her falling, and she has no short term memory, so the question remains.
I took her to the doctor on Monday. The MD checked her out, and she diagnosed a flare-up of arthritis; she ordered Tylenol and 8 weeks of physical therapy. We went home, and the nursing director spoke to the home care agency and set up PT to start Friday.
Now it's time for the second definition of Grace: "Divine love and protection bestowed freely on people; the state of being protected or sanctified by the favor of God." I received a call while at work yesterday. Nana fell while walking in the hallway. Many octogenarians would have broken a hip; but Nana landed softly, bruising only her pride. Who was in the hallway? One of her friends, who was walking with her son. And who is her son? He is the Director of the Physical Therapy division of Nana's homecare company. The Nursing Director explained that Nana would be starting physical therapy with his company on Friday. "No she isn't," replied the physical therapist."Jane will be starting tomorrow. And if the therapist scheduled for Friday can't make it tomorrow, I will personally be back to take care of her."
Leave it to Mom to fall in front of the very person who could help her the most! As she would say, "God is good to me, with a little help from your father." She points to the heavens. "He still takes good care of me."
The first definition of grace is "simple elegance or refinement of movement." OK, this is a little tongue-in-cheek. Much like her daughter and author of this blog, we are not always light on our feet. In fact, we find ourselves on our butts every once in a while. Luckily, we have strong bones and healthy senses of humor-- we bounce right back. I had noticed that Nana was limping earlier in the week. She was complaining of soreness in her left leg, radiating from her hip to her knee. Did she fall? No one observed her falling, and she has no short term memory, so the question remains.
I took her to the doctor on Monday. The MD checked her out, and she diagnosed a flare-up of arthritis; she ordered Tylenol and 8 weeks of physical therapy. We went home, and the nursing director spoke to the home care agency and set up PT to start Friday.
Now it's time for the second definition of Grace: "Divine love and protection bestowed freely on people; the state of being protected or sanctified by the favor of God." I received a call while at work yesterday. Nana fell while walking in the hallway. Many octogenarians would have broken a hip; but Nana landed softly, bruising only her pride. Who was in the hallway? One of her friends, who was walking with her son. And who is her son? He is the Director of the Physical Therapy division of Nana's homecare company. The Nursing Director explained that Nana would be starting physical therapy with his company on Friday. "No she isn't," replied the physical therapist."Jane will be starting tomorrow. And if the therapist scheduled for Friday can't make it tomorrow, I will personally be back to take care of her."
Leave it to Mom to fall in front of the very person who could help her the most! As she would say, "God is good to me, with a little help from your father." She points to the heavens. "He still takes good care of me."
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Lunch with the Ladies
Want some fun? Have lunch with a group of senior ladies-- they will keep you smiling.
Today's topic was the goodness of others. Nana, always the optimist, stated that most of the world is made up of good people. In fact, you would be amazed at how many good deeds are being done without any fanfare.
Effie, her sweet, ladylike friend replied, "Well, most of the people are. The others, you just shift them out of your life." The others smiled and agreed. Effie turned a little red and said, "Shift. I said shift. That's what I meant. Is that what I said?" Hah!
I laughed and said yes, that was what she said. But I know what she meant. She erupted with giggles, and I joined in.
Today's topic was the goodness of others. Nana, always the optimist, stated that most of the world is made up of good people. In fact, you would be amazed at how many good deeds are being done without any fanfare.
Effie, her sweet, ladylike friend replied, "Well, most of the people are. The others, you just shift them out of your life." The others smiled and agreed. Effie turned a little red and said, "Shift. I said shift. That's what I meant. Is that what I said?" Hah!
I laughed and said yes, that was what she said. But I know what she meant. She erupted with giggles, and I joined in.
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