People from the 1880s - CD and Eula

When I was barely a teen, I met a couple at church who were in their 80s. C.D. and Eula Walker. I was enamored by their old fashioned way of talking, their infallible courtesy, their acceptance of our family as their own.

They had an after-church gathering at their house one Sunday and I was fascinated by the way the food was presented in fancy dishes and served buffet style from a sideboard. I remember someone asking Mrs. Walker where her husband had gotten off to. 

"He's probably at the buffet building sideboards on his plate," she answered. I wasn't sure what that meant so my dad later explained it was like having a wagon with wood rails along the side so you could pile things higher. 

We sat in their parlor on red velveteen couches with carved legs and arms. Crystal chandeliers twinkled in the dim lighting of the room as we ate our food and communed with one another.

Their house was filled with family heirlooms that looked to be from the "roaring 20s" and treasures from their travels abroad. Things they had collected mid-life when they were around 40. Mr. Walker took us on a tour of his garage where, hanging on the wall was a helmet from World War I and other mementos of days gone by. They would have been born in the 1800s around the same time as my own grandparents who lived out of state and we saw rarely. The Walkers had no children so they adopted us as a surrogate family.

I had foolishly worn my watch out to play and the band broke off. C.D. repaired it so that I could wear it like a pin attaching it to a gold Fleur de Lis broach. He presented it to me as a gift one Sunday at church. Having lived through the Great Depression, they learned to repurpose and reuse everything. Nothing was wasted.

How I wish I had thought to ask them about their lives, their travels, their experiences before it was too late.

5 Things to Make a Trip to the Emergency Room Easier

When the phone rang at ten pm on a Sunday night, a quavery voice said, "We've had a little accident over here." These few words can send the adrenaline pumping. The first time we got that call, we rushed over to check on Mom who said she'd fallen. She'd crawled from her living room to the bedroom to use the only working phone. The other one broke with her fall. We wondered if we should call an ambulance or just drive her to the hospital to get checked out. We made the wrong decision.

We learned the hard way that it's dangerous to move or transport an injured person. Worse, when we arrived at the emergency room there was a long wait behind others who either looked worse or had arrived by medical transport. She spent a couple of uncomfortable hours on a hard xray table before the doctor arrived at the small town hospital. Mom was admitted with a broken hip.

Another call came on the morning of New Year's Eve before seven am. Mom asked for help getting a shower explaining that she had fallen during the night. She lay on the bathroom floor until morning. The tone of her voice indicated something was very wrong. I should have called an ambulance immediately. Instead, we bundled her up against the January cold and drove her to the emergency room. Again, bad move. The hospital was operating with a skeleton crew due to the holiday. We waited in the ER eight long hours surrounded by patients who were coughing, sneezing or vomiting.

During that time, the staff would not allow Mom to have even an ice chip until the doctor examined her. When her name was finally called, the doctor launched into a lecture about the patient being seriously dehydrated and running a fever. Imagine our response.

When the time comes to go to the hospital, the arriving paramedics will ask about the patient's  medications, their allergies, and medical history before the current emergency. 

Emergency Go Bag

Ambulance drivers want to take the patient's insurance and identification cards with them on the way to the hospital. Giving them a photocopy can avoid the loss of the patient's original cards. Gathering copies of all this info in one place ahead of time can help reduce some of the stress. 

1. Make a copy of the patient's Medical Insurance Card, front and back. It has the phone number, policy and member's identification number. Put the copy into a Go Bag dedicated for emergencies.
2. While at the doctor before an emergency grab two of their business cards; one for your wallet and one for the Go Bag.
3. Create a list of other important phone numbers in case your cell phone battery dies during the wait. You'll want the numbers for their doctors, their minister, out-of-town relatives, friends and neighbors who might be concerned.
4. Make a list of prescription medications showing the exact dosages and the frequency taken. 
5. Add a list of known allergies or reactions to medication taken in the past and a list of over-the-counter medicines taken routinely.

When my husband went to the hospital for surgery, he was taking a lot of prescription medications. Rather than try to remember them, we made a list of each medication, its exact strength and dosage frequency. Several printed copies of this list went into the Go Bag. The admissions staff, nurses and doctors were grateful not to have to write it all down by hand. For example:

It's often necessary to provide info about previous hospital stays and the outcome, and whether the patient was admitted, along with a list of all surgeries the patient has undergone.

• Prepare a List of previous surgeries, the types and the dates, such as,  Appendectomy - 1975; Left Hip, Replacement Surgery - 1991

It's a good idea to ask the patient for this information ahead of time. If they're confused or possibly unconscious you'll have the list available.

Most of the following items are optional for the Go Bag, but they're handy and easy to pick up at the dollar store.

1. A small tablet for notes and instructions once the doctor arrives.
2. A good book for long waits at the hospital and to avoid the germ laden, out-of-date magazines in the waiting room.
3. Bottled water and packaged crackers or cookies. When your wait is long you'll be glad you have this. It never fails, if you leave the room for a minute to go to the cafeteria, that's when a medical person comes in with an update.
4. Cup of instant soup or protein bars.
5. Wet wipes and travel size hand sanitizer.
6. Tissues for tears or runny noses.
7. A new toothbrush and travel size toothpaste. This is for you.
8. Packets of sugar or artificial sweetener, salt, pepper, and plastic spoons. Sometimes a vending machine has food but there are no utensils or condiments available.
9. A clean pair of cotton socks to wear in those cold waiting rooms at the hospital.

If you drive your friend to the hospital, bring along any medical equipment they use. When Dad became critically ill after chemo, he refused to go in the ambulance. We drove him to the emergency room and in our haste, left his portable oxygen at home. The ER was overflowing and he had a dreadfully long wait before they finally admitted him to intensive care. Every gasping breath without his oxygen was a nightmare.

If your friend is admitted and you want to talk with the attending doctor,  sometimes they make their rounds near midnight so you could be waiting a while. Once you've invested hours waiting for X-rays, blood work and other stuff, you'll want to know what's going on.

In the hopeful possibility that your senior is not admitted, you'll want to bring their walker or wheelchair when you follow the ambulance to the hospital. They'll need these when they're released. One final tip just in case you lose the ambulance you're following. Ask the paramedics where they're taking the patient so you'll arrive at the right hospital.

Taking a few moments to assemble a few items into a Go Bag can reduce some of the anxiety that goes with any trip to the hospital. The best hope is that you won't ever need to use it.

On Becoming Your Parent's Guardian - Role Reversal

When our parents seek help on small tasks they've easily handled in the past, it can come as a surprise. The indecision creeps in slowly on little cat's feet starting with hesitation over making minor decisions about things they've handled effectively for years.

My mother asked, "How much rice goes in the pot and how long should I cook it?" I gently reminded her that she'd cooked rice for many more years than I had.

Small tasks became more difficult as time passed. In a way, being asked for advice from a parent was flattering. What I didn't know was that the tide had begun to turn; the child was becoming the parent one small step at a time.

Things went along smoothly as our new relationship emerged. I became more of an equal to someone who had always shown authority and control. This awesome responsibility is not to be taken lightly. It arrives with its own baggage, setbacks, and joy. Friends my age shared that they'd been also called upon to provide advice to parents.

My best friend shared the frustration she experienced when trying to persuade her mother to use her supplemental oxygen like she's supposed to. Another friend tried to convince her mother to use the hearing aide she clearly needs. She shared the frustration of constantly having to repeat herself to her mother. How familiar it seemed to be interrupted mid-sentence by someone who years ago said, "Not now, Mother is speaking." But the shoe is suddenly on the other foot.

Aunt Lou at 94

A stay-at-home mom of the fifties, my mother began her mid-life career with little or no employment experience. She left nurse's training to get married in 1945. After her thirty-year marriage ended, she took vocational training and embarked on a career as a Certified Nurse Assistant at the age of fifty.

Suddenly she asked for advice on dating, grocery shopping and apartment hunting, advice she'd provided me in the past. Mom's new life as a single, sole-provider spanned the next thirty years. Her experience of taking a job outside the home added skills, confidence and a sense of accomplishment. On her eightieth birthday, she officially retired from a second career as a Teacher's aide.

Reality struck when Mom went into the hospital for a month. Although I'd always been a co-signer on her checking account, it became my job to manage her bill paying. Looking over her checkbook register revealed a level of forgetfulness. There were unpaid insurance bills and past due notices tucked away in drawers.  Thankfully, Mom was glad to be rid of the responsibilities of balancing the bank account and paying the bills.

Driving soon became another challenge when she reached her eighties. With diminished reflexes and increased fragility, it was no longer safe for her to be behind the wheel. She no longer felt confident on the road anymore. It is the opposite of the day we first got behind the wheel of a car in our teens, a life-altering decision which makes a senior dependent on others for their basic needs to get to doctors' appointments, pick up groceries, or even visit a neighbor.

What a relief it was when she turned her car keys over without being asked. Not everyone is that practical when the time comes to stop driving and this can be a source of friction for concerned relatives.

The two sisters, well into their 90s, still functioned independently in so many important ways although living in a  skilled nursing home due to health, vision, hearing and memory impairments.

One thing remains certain in our relationship. It is the unshakable friendship of my Mom, my true friend. She is a blessing and reminds me in so many ways that I'm the lucky one. They both make me proud

Patient Advocate Issues

When you’re ninety to ninety-five years old who will watch over your best interests? The duty falls heavy on my heart ensuring that my mother and her sister are well cared for at the skilled nursing home where they live. 

For the previous ten years, they shared a home in the country with a fenced yard, private bedrooms, bathrooms, and a fully equipped kitchen, where they shared meals, watched television and spent quality time together.

In 2014, a nasty fall while taking care of her cat sent Louise to the hospital. She needed physical therapy, rehabilitation and rest. A month later, there was an opening for a bed and Mom joined her at the skilled nursing facility. At eighty-nine, unable to hear well and finding it hard to remember her address or dial the phone made it unsafe for her to remain alone. The potential for disaster became clear after a grease fire in the kitchen nearly took its toll. When it came to taking prescription medication, meal preparation, kitchen cleanup, shopping for groceries, or performing household chores, things were no longer simple for these two home-bound ladies. They tried to manage for a time with a home health aide and maid service. Ultimately, it was clear the best solution was to take a room at a skilled nursing facility where they would have a full time staff of nurses, dieticians and aides.

It's been fourteen months since they moved in. This week at the quarterly family conference to discuss how things are going with residency, satisfaction on food service, meals, their treatment by the nursing staff and their medication issues, I had a list of concerns to bring to the table.

Last Wednesday, I arrived at 8:00am for breakfast with the ladies. Mom had already finished eating, yet, Louise was still not at the table an hour after her usual time. Heading down the hall to find her, an aide yelled that Louise was "on the way". I found the door to their room open and the bathroom door open. My thoughts went to the privacy, dignity and respect this lacked. Louise was on the toilet crying saying she needed help to get up and back into her wheelchair. She had been sitting there for an indeterminate time, long enough to become agitated and distressed. She told me she had a bad headache and her eyes were runny. Standard procedure is to get the residents up and on the toilet where they hand them a warm washcloth to clean up before getting dressed. She was already dressed but had not washed.

The problem touched me on several levels. No, she had not pushed the nurse call button. She is afraid of technology and doesn't want to bother anyone. Whoever put her on the toilet already knows she's there and knows she needs help. Wouldn’t they check on a patient after a while? Some training on compassion might help matters.

Directed at the food service manager was the issue that her apple juice had been poured an hour earlier and set out at the table next to my mother. There were two flies sitting on the glass. Had I not been there, she would have consumed that tainted juice and never known. I suggested they serve the resident after they arrive or at least put a protective cover like cellophane wrap on the glass. Also requested was that Mom’s daily food menu have a notation about black pepper allergy and no onions and remove the note that says, “No bananas.” She likes bananas. This is the second request to change her food preferences.

Mashed potatoes with black pepper

A week before this meeting, Mom asked if there was a chance they could move back to the other wing where they spent the first months before moving to long-term resident’s wing. Her belief was they received better service and treatment in the other location. When questioned at the meeting, she meekly said, “No, they're treating us better now that they are getting used to us.” In one week, I was doubtful that things had improved much; rather, she didn't want to make a fuss and have people angry with her.

The last topic was on concerns over the added medications in the past year of residency. When admitted to the facility in April 2014, Mom was taking only three prescription drugs and two over the counter pills (for acid reflux and a laxative). 

Med List March 2014

A three page report received from the insurance company listed more than a dozen prescriptions in the past month. The staff printed out a list of her current medications and we reviewed these medications line by line. 

For a fact, she currently has nineteen medications on the list, some taken daily, others, on an as needed basis.

My primary concern is about drug interactions and side effects of the added drugs which include:

•  Increased risk for heart attack or stroke 
• Increased blood pressure 
• Increased heart rate and heart palpitations 
• Breathing problems, upper respiratory tract infection (which she had when taking this Rx in the past) 
• Cough (the issue for which the product was prescribed) 
• Muscle pain 
• Shakiness, nervousness, dizziness

Results: Six medications that were duplicates have now been eliminated (or DC, discontinued) including one for Hydrocodone (Tier 2 Narcotic Drug for pain) which I have asked twice to be removed due to ongoing issues with dizziness. Once I spoke to the Doctor directly and he said he would mark this as an allergy so it would not be ordered again. At a later time by phone I requested the same thing with the physician’s assistant. The medication appeared on the list of current prescriptions today. I was assured the order would be discontinued.

Overall, I was pleased that they took time to address each of my concerns and (hopefully) will take action to remedy these issues.

The main point is to bring awareness that although the competent care of a loved one is something to be expected, for the patient advocate it's an ongoing process requiring constant vigilance. We’ll see if any of the changes actually take place.

Christmas at the Skilled Nursing Home

Muddy Creek on McMillan Drive

Celebrating Christmas with the family will change this year. We'll be sharing Christmas Eve with the ladies at the Skilled Nursing Home. It's over the river and through the woods to get to their facility.

For the past twenty-five years, we've invited the girls over to our house for the holidays. When they lived in Fort Worth, we'd drive over and pick them up and they would stay with Mom. Now, this isn't possible due to things that most people take for granted. For one, getting up the front stairs has become a major hurdle. The most important consideration for someone in a wheelchair is access. I never gave this a thought until I knew someone confined to a chair.

Also, access to a bathroom is one of the key things one must consider in these situations. I probably know the location of every bathroom in every store we used to frequent from Kroger to CVS Pharmacy to Home Depot and every medical office we ever visited.

We're lucky that the ladies live in a place with a caring staff and nurturing caregivers. Their Wellness Director, Latrice, is a happy and energetic lady who keeps them involved, even visiting their rooms to make sure they remember events. Despite the personal invitation and flyers distributed to remind them, Mom had forgotten about the Christmas party that was scheduled for this past Thursday night. When we arrived, she asked us why we came to visit so late. It was six pm. We said, "We're here for the party." She said, "What party?"

After a little persuasion, she and Louise trekked down to the cafe where we found a nice place to sit together. Louise went on a tour of the party table and she oooh'ed and aaah'ed and said she wasn't hungry but that everything looked so pretty.

We asked if there had been any Christmas music. John usually comes to play his guitar three times on one day each week. Mom didn't remember at first, then she told us he comes three times on Thursdays. We said, today is Thursday. "Oooooh, yes, he sang today."

John plays his guitar for the residents each Thursday.

They always enjoy his songs, stories and interaction with the group that gathers for his performances. He remembers each of them by name and plays their favorite song requests.

We consider ourselves very fortunate to have such an extended group of people looking after our loved ones. It's never ideal to live in a facility nor is it what they really want. Thankfully, Mom realizes that it is safer and better for them to have twenty-four hour staff to help them with their needs. She told me recently, "You children made the right decision to bring us here".

Even so, these things are difficult and have changed the face of the holidays for us all.

Three Dog Day at The Resort

It's always a good day when Ginger comes to work at the Skilled Nursing Home with her Dad. Up and down the hall you can hear calls of "Ginger...Come here, Ginger".

The residents enjoy kind kisses and a gentle sniffing before Ginger strides on past. She seems, like her Dad who's the Administrator, to have a purpose and destination to her step.

Eleven year old Ginger is a regular at the facility, showing up nearly every Monday through Friday.

"It sounds like home when she barks," one resident says.

The usual place where she can be found is in the doorway of Pop's office. There she naps and takes crackers and scraps from the residents who love seeing her and petting her.



Today was a bonus dog day with at least three other canine visitors.
This is little Cocoa who's another regular who comes to work with an employee at the home. She can be seen running quickly behind her master down the halls.

This is little Roxie who has a Mickey Mouse shaped emblem on her hind quarters.

A good time was had by all.



The Backroads of Texas

The long and winding road that leads to Mom's door is a beautiful drive that, unfortunately, floods when we get any rain. Lately that hasn't been too often so I take this scenic back road which cuts a few miles off my journey.

After yesterday's frog strangler  that doused us thoroughly as we carried in our groceries, I didn't expect to see the road open today. As luck would have it, the way was shining and freshly washed, ready for rubber neckers like me with a camera.



Greener on this side today

Birthday Celebration With New Friends and Old

The birthday girl, Louise, is celebrating her ninety-fourth birthday today surrounded by old friends, new friends and family.

After clearing away the lunch dishes, we brought out the homemade Italian Cream Cake and served a slice to whomever walked by and wanted a piece. It didn't take long for the cake to disappear, all but one large slice, saved for the birthday girl to enjoy later at her leisure.

For the pair of ladies who've recently moved into the Rehabilitation and Skilled Nursing Facility, they've both put on a few pounds, made a host of new friends, attended church services, been serenaded by musicians, played Bingo and Wheel of Fortune and generally lived a more active lifestyle over the past few weeks than the previous few years.

Of course, there's still a general longing and tearful wish for "home" and the beloved family cat who can't join them at "the resort". Life has turned into a double-edged balance between pain and pleasure, matching safety against independence. To these precious ladies who would in any case, rather be in their own home, the services they have available have become more than just nice to have. They have physical therapists to help keep their mental and physical bodies in tune and a caring staff of dieticians, doctors, physician assistants and others to ensure their well being. They are in the care of around-the-clock nursing staff, technicians who assist during middle-of the night emergencies, along with the fail safe assurance of back-up generators for power loss like in the country home from which they moved.

Though all this is true, I deeply feel the loss of their proximity - my heart aches with each lonely entry I make into my Mother's former household seeking some missing item to deliver to their shared room.

Their world has grown larger in activities and yet, at the same time it's grown smaller in real estate. It is an adjustment for us all, but none feel it more clearly than Auntie, who has left behind her boy, Sugar, the cat.


A Month Plus at Skilled Nursing

Things go on as they must in the Skilled Nursing Facilities around the country. From the horror stories I'm hearing at the lunch table with Louise and other residents here, we're lucky to be at this one. (What?) Yes, lucky, lucky, lucky.

Some of the other places don't measure up to basic standards from what we're hearing. One place nearby has a World Class Chef but the nurse call bells go unanswered. We don't have that issue here. Staff is responsive and they have addressed my concerns. Things are definitely improving.

Two nights ago, Louise got a roommate. The semi-private room has a fabric curtain that serves as a divider between two adjustable beds. There are 2 TVs, separate phones, dressers and closets for each resident. They share a bathroom. Today the room temp was set to 76 and it was blistering hot in there. The new patient in the room is recovering from pneumonia after a fall where she broke four ribs. She moaned through the night following her arrival, making a fitful night's sleep for both residents.

It took a few days, but Louise was able to remember Amy's name and they started sitting together for meals in the dining room. It's kind of like the lunchroom at school, where you have to know where the regulars sit and not take their place. When Mom and I visit now, we have a certain place where we all sit together.

Another of Louise's friends, Betty, has started coming to the table early and helps to find Louise's meal ticket in the bin. She even helps her read and circle the menu choices. The residents can pick between 2 main entrees, veggies, bread, dessert and beverages. The iced tea is surprisingly great!


 

The Food Service in the Dining Room:
When guests visit, they can share a meal with residents if they wish. They can even order specialty items like hamburgers or a sandwich. It's good food; not gourmet dishes, just comfort food cooked soft for the target audience of Seniors and recovering patients. Just don't let them write "soft grind" on the ticket unless you want your chicken pulverized.

BTW, don't plan to be in a rush.

A Trip by Ambulance

She crawled down the hallway to get to the living room

That dreaded call from across the street came in around nine on Saturday night. Mom relayed right away that Louise fell in her room and couldn't get up. She crawled into the living room and called out to my mother, who couldn't hear her from the other end of the house.

Louise couldn't get back into her wheelchair, yet, refused to go to the hospital insisting that she was fine. In her bedroom, I asked her to demonstrate that she could transfer from the bed to the wheelchair and back. She was able to do that, so I went home. I live across the street.

By Sunday morning, Louise was too sore to get out of bed. I dialed 911 and she was taken by ambulance to the hospital where she was admitted. She had a painful injury to her left ankle that had fusion surgery in 2007, and her left knee was bruised. They found she also had a urinary tract infection. After she arrived in the emergency room, a bruise appeared on her chin following the line of the cervical collar that had been placed on her during the ride.

Louise is a non typical 93 year old female who lives at home with her 88 year old sister. She dresses herself, prepares daily noon meals of sandwiches and washes dishes by pulling herself up to stand at the sink. She routinely maintains her own personal hygiene, showering and shampooing unassisted, performs toilet transfers, makes her own bed and takes care of her cat.

Feb. 11, Tuesday 4 pm - Patient was transported by ambulance from Lake Point Medical Center to a Skilled Nursing Facility arriving around 5 pm. Assigned to room 505 B.

Upon arrival at GH, patient was evaluated by Gladys and Rose, Nurse Techs who removed her street clothes and put her in a hospital gown for the initial assessment of her condition. Personal clothing (including nightgown) was available at the time of arrival provided by Niece who accompanied the ambulance. Clothing was placed in patient's dresser and closet. Dinner was provided. Patient fed herself and had a good appetite completing most of the meal. Bedside commode was positioned next to bed. Staff was briefed on patient's personal history prior to injury.

Feb. 12, Wednesday 10:30 am - Upon my arrival, Patient was found in bed still dressed in a hospital gown. After a discussion with the Nursing Supervisor, patient was helped to the bedside commode where she was seated with the door to the room left open in full view of hall traffic. Upon direct questioning as to the course of treatment and reason for remaining in bed, patient was seen by Occupational Therapy representative, Sara, who immediately responded by assisting in getting the patient dressed in street clothes and taking Patient to the Exercise room for evaluation. :)

Feb. 13, Thursday 11:45 am - Patient was located in the dining room following Occupational Therapy where her relatives (Niece, Sister and Friend) joined her for lunch of soup, Chicken Tetrazzini and pineapple cake. Patient's appetite was good and she fed herself without assistance. Visitors remained until 2 pm. :)
4:30 pm Niece received a frantic call from the nursing staff at the request of patient who was agitated to the point of tears asking that I return to GH. She was already in bed and had been dressed in a diaper (not pull-ups) and was extremely distressed by this action of the staff as she is able to use the toilet if assisted in making the transfer. :(

Feb. 14, Friday 10:00 am - Valentine's Day. Patient was located in the Occupational Therapy area with electrodes attached to her left ankle. She had refused her breakfast, yet when offered, drank a large glass of milk fetched from the kitchen. Kitchen staff was very accommodating even offering a banana. Patient had been showered and her hair had been shampooed. :)
3:00 pm Family members returned to find patient in distress, searching the closet for additional "pull-up" underwear. Staff informed family that patient was not to put on disposable underwear unassisted. (Grabbed them out of my hand and put them back in the drawer.) Patient was extremely tired and tearful, having difficulty in expressing her concerns. Visitors departed approximately 4:30 pm with patient stating she would eat the evening meal in her room.


Feb. 15, Saturday 11:45 am - Patient was located in the "Small Dining Room" seated at a table with patients who lack the skills to feed themselves or communicate verbally. Patient was in tears and visibly shaken by this development. Her hair was in disarray and uncombed. I moved her to the "Large Dining Room" where the patient fed herself unassisted after recovering her composure. She explained that someone had "fed her dinner" the previous evening in her room. Patient stated that the staff did not make eye contact during the meal, instead concentrated on a device held in the staff member's lap while distractedly shoveling food into the patient's mouth. Later, she rang and asked that the room lights be turned off along with the TV. Lights were turned off and TV was left blaring all night. :(

Following lunch, I asked a tech to assist in helping patient to the bathroom where staff member continued a conversation on her cell phone during the transfer from wheel chair to the commode. Patient was dropped from 6 inches above toilet where she landed on the seat and was left in my care. Tech did not return to assist patient back to wheel chair. I assisted with the transfer back to her wheel chair and in performing personal hygiene needs: hair combing, teeth brushing and washing of dentures not done earlier in the morning. :(
4:45 pm Patient was assisted in reaching the phone after 6 rings. She was tearful and tired and said, "Sometimes I don't even want to go on."
7:00 pm Patient answered the phone and seemed somewhat calmer, had been showered and was dressed for and comfortably in bed.

I called to report my concerns to the nurse on duty (Beth) who was compassionate and understanding and listened to my account about lack of respect and dignity being demonstrated by the recent developments. Monday I will make a report to the Facility Administrator. There is a distinct difference in the weekday staff and the weekend staff who operate with little administrative supervision.

Community Attendant Program To The Rescue, Eldercare Blessings

I'm reminded of Pearl S. Buck's story, The Good Earth, in that I've been afraid to praise the benefits of the Department of Aging and Disability or DADS, as they're known, for fear of jinxing the program. At long last, following a lot of hoop-jumping, the ladies in my care are getting the help they need to remain living independently at home. Being homebound, according to their Medicare Advantage plan's definition, is that leaving  home is a major effort. That definitely describes the ladies across the street, who at 88 and 93, still maintain their own daily activities but neither own a  car nor drive. Thankfully.

With that independence comes other disadvantages like trying to cook meals, which has become a dangerous activity to someone in a wheelchair who is legally blind from macular degeneration. And to her younger sister, it is a matter of concentration, along with sense of smell and hearing, which seems to be lagging at times. Recently, a grease fire in the kitchen nearly sent the pair to well, we'll just say they were both fortunate that in a moment of clarity the flaming pan was moved to the nearby sink without harm. It was a real eye-opener for me.

Truly, I'm in denial about my Mother, who for the last twenty or so years, has remained so vibrantly active and able, not retiring until she turned eighty. Now as her skills diminish, I'm grateful that they have qualified for Home Health Services Care. With the two ladies living together, their combined allotted hours gives them a Community Attendant who comes five days a week, eight hours per day.

The real difficulty has been the inconsistency of schedule for the attendant since the middle of November when the program started. First, we had the Thanksgiving holiday, then a flat tire, then Christmas, then New Year's, then the stomach flu (out for 8 days) for which we remain grateful was not shared with the patients, then several days of ice and road conditions making travel too dangerous to come. If things ever settle down, it will be a lot better for the ladies who are fond of a predictable routine at their house.

The strange part is the element of coincidence (?) in the attendant's name. It has been strangely validating to be assigned a wonderful and enthusiastic twenty-one year old named Joe. Yes, a lady named Joe. I thought I was the only one with a name spelled like a boy. Other than my fictional character in The Pub novel I'm writing. Hmm. Strange. She's blonde and sweet, a young mother who takes pains in being creative with the meals she prepares for my Mother and Aunt. And what a major relief it is to have her help.

Good rice. It is good rice.

And the Blind Shall Show Them the Way

Small miracles happen every day if only we pay enough attention to see. The other day, I was dashing out of the front door to run errands, when I noticed something very important missing from my car keys: half of the key ring with all Mom's keys was not attached to the ring.

The first thing I did was panic. I viewed a mental picture show of all the places I'd carried the keys recently.

The Post Office? Yes, I'd stood in the parking lot talking with a neighbor in the previous days, keys in hand. I could see my hands gesturing wildly as they sometimes do, while a view from the side camera catches the arc of the keys flinging out of my hand landing in the gravel lot somewhere beyond. As I sensed this was the place to find the missing keys, I drove immediately to the cement building that serves as our postal facility and discovered it was Veteran's Day and the place was closed. Next.

The recycling facility? Oh, please, not that. Don't make me crawl through that huge green dumpster, please. I'll search there only as a last resort.

The driveway? That morning I'd carried the trash out to the street and taken my house keys with me after being locked out by Tony one time, well, more than once. Tony is our Labrador and my constant companion.

Tony standing guard over Cookie

So I walked up and down the driveway a few times, which for most people is like a walk around the block in the neighborhood. After a few trips from the porch to the road I was ready to call it quits so I drove over to Moms and mentioned that I had misplaced my keys, trying not to draw attention to the fact that it was their keys I'd lost -- That would have been a no win situation.

Anyhow, as I'm carrying on with Mom about the latest whatever she says, "Oh, by the way, Louise found the keys." Louise, who's recently passed her 93rd birthday and who's lost most of her vision had found the keys which I'd searched for most of the morning. She had located them on the couch in their living room, nestled underneath the quilt where I hadn't bothered looking.

My sanity was held together on a neat ring in Louise's trembling hand where the keys to the Post Office Box, the front and rear doors, dead bolts and gate key were clipped together all safe and sound. Taking the keys in hand, I danced the dance of joy, gave her an enormous hug and one to Grandma to make it even and another round for each of them.
I waited for some deep voice to announce from the clouds..."And the blind shall show them the way...". Nothing like that happened, but a big white "X" streaked its way across the bright blue sky as I made my way back toward the world of normalcy.

Which made me think of Indiana Jones who said, "X never, ever marks the spot."

Amazing. And so is Louise.

Fire Hazzard

Last Friday when I called Mom to see if she wanted some homemade soup, she said, "No thanks, I'm making creamed beef with gravy. I was delighted that she had the energy to prepare a meal since she's been so tired lately. Whenever I call, I seem to wake her, although she denies that she was sleeping. "I'm just resting," she always tells me, "just lying here with my eyes open."

Saturday when I took them over the soup I'd promised, I noticed the vent hood of her stove had black scorch marks across the front that wouldn't come off when I tried to wipe it down with cleanser. "What happened here?" I asked.


Vent hood scorch marks

"Oh, that happened a couple of days ago," she told me.

I knew better, having been there Thursday to deliver their weekly groceries and some KFC for their dinner. I asked how they liked the chicken and whether she'd remembered to serve the cole slaw which I'd put in the refrigerator as it was too early to eat dinner. Nope. It was still in the fridge.

I returned to the issue of the scorch marks and asked her again what happened. She'd turned away from the frying pan (with it on High) while looking in the fridge. A huge fire had engulfed the ground meat while she wasn't looking. I was speechless for about two minutes while I sat and tried to think of what to say. This is my Mother, and yet I'm the one who's always lecturing. Finally I found the words.

"I'm just glad you are both okay," I told her. "Things could have been much worse," I said trying to keep the fear out of my voice.


The vent hood in the background

"Well, there are two doors to get out of," she informed me somewhat defensively. Thank the Lord that she'd reacted quickly and moved the pan into the nearby sink. Her words sent a cold shiver through me. I was proud of her quick thinking and yet . . .

With Louise in a wheelchair and Mom on a walker, it would take them too long to get out of the house if things had gotten worse; the stuff of nightmares. Just the week before, we'd had a major fire two blocks away which burned through the night. Last night, a special report on emergency preparedness in case of fire aired on the news and I thought about the Ladies across the street as I do often when I can't sleep.