Lost

Today when I called my dad on the way home from work he said "I feel like I've lost your mother."  There are no good days now.  She is convinced that we are all betraying her and conspiring to have her "sent away".  

We have run out of options.  No doctors will talk with us because she is 81 and in a nursing home.  

This is so hard.

Routine

No real news to report today...everything is starting to become routine...Dad going to see mom at 1:00 sharp every afternoon...he tries relentlessly to get her to open her eyes...standing there begging her to "wake up"...she is laying there hallucinating and, in an effort to not see the hallucinations, she lays there with her eyes closed.  She probably doesn't know what to believe...is it really Bob or another hallucination...some scary evil monster there to tell her frightening things?

Dad gives up after an hour and quietly leaves her room and drives back home where he watches the History Channel and waits until it's time to feed the cats...his best friends and constant companions.

I, too, now have a routine...on the way to work a quick call to check in with Dad...to make sure everything is okay...hopefully, a call at 1:00 from Dad for me to talk with mom, if she is able...then a call to dad on the drive home from work to once again check in and make sure everything is okay.

I think the routine we are settling into somehow brings us comfort...to know we're still here...still a family...even though we are quickly slipping away.

Home

Bob
October 15, 2010

So, on  Thursday, my dad closed the sale of the home he and my mom shared for 58 years.  It was a modest, tiny little house...less than 1000 square feet...it was always cluttered and messy.  But it was home.  For years I focused on how much I hated that place.  But it has hit me hard to no longer have it as my home.

Oh, we have dad's new house.  It's a cute little house in the neighborhood he grew up in.  It's not "home" in my mind, though..."home" for me was always where mom and dad were.  My mom is now in a nursing home, slowly losing her mind.  They aren't together and never will be again.  So, there really isn't a home for us anymore.

When I think back over the past year and how much we have gone through as a family...that awful night my mother in her impaired thinking downed a handful of meds, literally not aware of what she was doing...for all she knew, she was making breakfast or taking a bath...how my dad caught her in the nick of time and rushed her to the emergency room...how she fought him...hit him, railed at him with anger...how he, all by himself, struggled to know what to do.  With his sheer strength he willed her into the car and got her to the hospital as her heart began to react to the awful cocktail of meds and she was rushed into Cardiac ICU...little did any of us know that would be the last time they would be home...mom never made it back home.  And, dad, realizing the reality of the situation, succumbed to my pleas for him to move closer into town.

I am very thankful at how quickly we sold the house.  It was much quicker than I ever imagined.  But I guess I just wasn't ready to say goodbye...I am just not ready for us to be at this phase of our lives.  If only I had some control in rolling back the clock and slowing down time...but I don't.

I just hope that I can somehow learn to handle this with the grace and class that my dad has shown throughout this painful experience.  I'm not there yet...but I'm continuing to try.

Visions?

Even if this is nothing more than a load of crap, I surely hope it's true.  Greeting the dying

The next phase of Bob & Jo Ann's life

Jo Ann in the summer of 1952

I haven't really updated much about my mother lately.  I've been trying to process it all.  My mom has been coming in and out of what the doctor's call a catatonic state.  Her condition is not quite as bad as it was a year ago, but...it's still bad.  When she is lucid, she has severe hallucinations.  What is so heartbreaking for me is that mom's hallucinations reflect the low self-esteem she has had her entire life.  She hears voices of people talking about her, she is convinced that my dad wants nothing to do with her, that my sister and I are conspiring to have her locked away.  She sees things on the wall...sometimes scary monsters...but usually, it's written words...telling her that my dad is cheating on her, that she is no good, that "they" are going to kick her out of the nursing home.

The one reality that I have come to understand is that you cannot reason with someone in the throws of dementia.  You can really only listen and try to reassure that everything will be okay.  That she is safe and will be taken care of.  And, if she needs anything, we will move heaven and earth to make sure she has it.

After last week's "conversation" with her doctor,  he did indeed go to see her.  He did write orders for electroshock therapy (ECT).   This was very frustrating because we (my dad and I), wanted to talk with him first to understand if this really was the right thing for her.  She had ECT last fall and it did successfully bring her back to us for about 10 months.  But...her mental state has been in a rapid decline.  Plus, she is 81.  We have been so torn as to whether or not putting her through this again is the right thing to do.

The nursing home has been in conversation with the only hospital in the area that provides ECT.  It's an hour away, which is another consideration.  It would be incredibly difficult on my dad...he is hell bent that he must visit her every day.  But their visiting hours are strictly held from 6:00 PM - 7:00 PM.  Dad does not see well enough to drive after dark in a strange area.  That may seem like a lame reason to consider not doing this treatment but...we have to consider both of them.  Plus, there are no guarantees that this will have a positive impact on my mother's health or mental state.  When you add this to the other concerns about the overall effect versus the potential outcome, well, there are big questions as to what the right thing to do for mom actually is.  We were looking for her doctor to provide us some guidance...no such luck.

We have been waiting to hear back from the doctor that runs the unit my mother would be admitted into as to whether they will accept her for treatment.  They take a look at a myriad of blood tests, xrays, etc., because the treatment itself is very hard on the body.  I spoke with my dad tonight and he said, "I hope they don't accept her."  My response was, "Dad, you have the power of attorney.  If there's even one ounce of hesitation in your mind, we should not move forward with it.  I can call them and tell them we do not want this treatment for her."  He replied, "Do it."

Jo Ann in March 2010, before
she started to rapidly decline.

I was sitting in my car just about to go into the grocery store.  The finality of how my dad responded took my breath away.  Always before, there has been the search for the right doctor, the right medicine, the right hospital, the right treatment...but now, that's all over.  When my dad said those words, my mind fast-forwarded to the future...and I am just flat out sad and scared.  Deep down I know this is the right thing to do for my mother.  We are letting her go...and not trying to do some heroic measures that more than likely would not have helped her...possibly even do more harm than good.

Tonight I have realized that my mom is really gone...she's physically here but...it's just a shell.  I'm heart broken.

BJ

Saying goodbye

Saying goodbye to home.

Getting my mind off of my worries...

Whew...what a whirlwind the past few days have been.  I have a huge mishmash of emotions to get through...sadness of saying goodbye to the home I grew up in, watching my mother slip away due to the effects of dementia and the hurt of watching my dad go through it all.  I just can't write about it right now.  I took loads of photos that I want to share but I've got to sort through it in my crazy head.

I'm spending this weekend trying to just not think about it.  I've gone on an organizing tear...I've joined the "Kitchen Cure"...nothing makes me feel as though I've not been a total slug than cleaning something out...and, believe me, I was raised to be a pack rat so there's about 46 years worth of crap I need to clean out...so...

I'm starting with the kitchen...I'll post photos as I go through and, hopefully, work a miracle.  I hope you'll join me!  And...I will continue on with Bob & Jo Ann's story...I just need to deal with it myself right now.

All the best,
BJ