After my mother's fall last week (it turns out she was given a sulfa drug to battle an infection, had a bad reaction with vomiting, diarrhea, and visual hallucinations, passed out and banged her head; we don't know how long before she was found), and the determination that she wasn't able to live on her own anymore, my sister called with panic in her voice and asked if The Excellent Wife (TEW) and I could come up and offer some help. We went up on Wednesday March 13 and came back today, which is why I wasn't in attendance on Tom H's ride today.
I didn't know how much help we could provide in two days, and TEW wasn't sure that my mother needed the level of care to which she was being referred. We went up, and just having us there provided my sister with substantial relief, so I guess that was good. We arranged to see mom the next day, when she was due for the transfer to the new facility.
It went as easily as it could, and it still took all day. We got mom at 11, as directed, collected the discharge meds and paperwork, and brought her to the new institution, an assisted living facility close to my sister. My mother, while still appearing physically OK, clearly needs the help. She has long-term memory losses common in dementia related to age (my mother can remember, for example, that my wife is my wife, and that she likes her, but mother can't remember my wife's name, even after promptings and repetitions), but she also has problems creating new memories, an effect I associate with head injury (for example, she could not remember that a nurse helped her to label her medications, even among evidence of the nurse's having been there). We have labeled all of the drawers and closets so that she can find things. Initially, she could not remember her meal times, or how to get to the dining room, although she was able to get there yesterday.
We got her to her room, and the social worker and maintenance staff came in to get her oriented. The staff is cheerful and patient (as I am not), and we love them. But mother needed frequent repetition, and will need reminders and assistance to get through the day.
Mother also has the quick mood shifts I associate with head injury, and when she is depressed, it's bad. She said she prayed, when she was on the floor in her old apartment, that she would die and this would be over, and over the days we saw her mentioned several times that her life is done, and she has no more reason to be alive. And then a moment later she would be laughing about something.
There was crisis after crisis: Two boxes of irreplaceable books appeared to be lost. My sister had a sleepless night, but they were found again.
We set up my mother's room and my wife was helping her with something-or-other, and sat down on the be with mother... and the bed, older than my mother's 88 years, broke. We were startled; my mother said, "What next?" I took the bed apart; my sister called around to find a metal bedframe and I set her bedding up on that; we will ask the custodial staff to spirit away the remains of the old bed.
Earlier that day, I had gone to the cable office to set up her landline (my mother will never figure out a cell phone), and I was told it would be online at 9am the next day. When it wasn't by noon, I started calling Time Warner to see if we could get to the bottom of the problem. It took nine calls, and over 136 minutes of cell time; I know because I ran out of minutes and had to refill. I spoke to two operators who swore that this time, they were transferring me to the person who could help me out; once I was simply disconnected; the second time I was transferred to a phone tech who was unable to find the order. When you have a monopoly, your company does not actually have to provide any service. Finally, by about 9pm, service was established.
WE spent the day after the transfer continuing the process, begun by my sister, of cleaning out the old apartment. We've come to some agreements about how I can help at this distance, and my sister (whose anxiety over matters financial ranges from the uncomfortable to the crippling) has begun to distinguish what I can do for her and what she needs to do herself (and there is more that I can do than either of us thought). I intend to be more helpful than I have been, both because I can, and because it's clear the assistance is needed.
My mother is already mostly gone. I hope her prayers come true, as easily and painlessly as providence can allow.
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