I’m a keeper. I didn’t know I would be, but I can’t imagine parting with Daddy’s jacket.
It’s brick-red suede, and has completely worn through at the edge of the sleeves. It no longer smells of him, but I keep it.
I remember when I was a child, riding with him to Sears on Saturday morning just to buy salted peanuts and look at the tools in the tool department. He wore that jacket. I was adopted and maybe that makes me more sentimental, I don’t know, but keeping my past is important to me.
I also have his Bible, his wallet, his watch, his glasses, and a yellow shirt I remember him in.
I have lots of items that was my mother’s–her mink coat, her Russian coat, purses, jewelry, a Sunday suit, and more Bibles. (My mother was a preacher, so trust me when I say she had lots of Bibles).
I also have their photos, letters, recipes, Daddy’s old tool chest, the first gift he ever gave her when she was just 14–it’s a small cedar box that’s in the shape of a heart. If my math is right, he gave it to her in 1925. I can tell the story of how they met as if it were my own.
Why do we keep our loved one’s clothes?
Like a child’s ratty blanket, we hold on. Safety, security, identity.
Our momentos are in boxes, on shelves, in cabinets, and I know I keep way too much, but how do you let go of such things?
It’s all I have now, and I believe that by pulling out Daddy’s coat or by pinning on one of my mother’s broaches, I can see them clearer, remember better.
I remember Daddy’s bushy eyebrows, the thickness of his fingers and how I could barely squeeze my child fingers through his. I remember that jacket and how he’d wear it when we went to see his family–his sister and brother every Sunday afternoon. His faithfulness amazed me then. His loyalty and tenderness is something I value in a man.
There are issues with keeping things. Psychologists might tell you that you’re not moving on, not making room for the new. I understand the logic. A friend recently visited my home. I hadn’t seen her since my mom was alive and she commented on how much my house had changed. My mom’s antiques are no longer on display. Some have been give to other family members, others sold. This is a slow process–for me.
It no longer looks like my mother’s house. After moving my mother and her 40 years of not moving, her collections oozed out of every crevice. I barely had room for “me.” My mother was one powerful woman. She had a way of taking over. I let her reign, so to speak. As her daughter and in those last few years, caregiver, I learned how to hold my ground and still allow her to feel as if she had some independence.
But now, I have a new couch, a new dining room table. Her furniture has been divvied up among my daughters. I’ve reclaimed my throne, so to speak.
Ironically, I consider myself more of a futurist than a person who lives in the past. I lean toward modern/eclectic design and and music and I’ve made a slew of six month, one year, five year, and then year plans, always writing my future. I’m a list maker–a list for the day, the week, the month, sometimes two a day. I like noting the little things I’ve accomplished. I’ll write something down I just thought of just to get the thrill of crossing it out.
But when it comes to my parents, I’m a keeper, but it no longer keeps me in the past. I’ don’t think I fall iinto thecategory of “not moving on.”
I like to think of their clothes and personal items as a cushion to my life. As if they somehow support me and connect me. Just one look at that jacket and I’m four again. No other Bible comforts me like Daddy’s. I don’t need to even open it to feel a sense of guidance.
It takes time to get to a place to let go of at least a few things.
After your loved one dies, part of grief is when you still try to live in your old life with old clothes and the way things used surrounding you.
You weren’t ready for him to die. You don’t want to date, get a new job, or have to figure out what to do with yourself next Christmas. You don’t want to move on.
Some people get rid of things too soon. Others, too late–it’s different for each person. Finally, you begin to make your own way. Reinvent yourself. Find who you are–now. They are in you, a part of you, but you are changed. You have to go on.
What’s the time frame? Varies. I know people who were clearing out closets before the funeral. I know others who open a closet ten years later–and there’s everything just as it was. Of course, there’s always a chance of getting stuck and not being able to let go. You run that risk.
For many, somewhere around or after that first year mark, things shift–a little. You don’t have to make yourself do everything. Some things come a little easier. A little. For others, it’s two, three years before they can feel anything but blinding loss.
But somewhere along the line, you let go of a few things. You call up a family member and offer them a book or a knick-knack. You sell something, drop items off at Goodwill or another charity.
You live with the empty space for awhile before you figure out how to fill your life again. And the items you keep become more intended, more precious. They go in top drawers and the chest that sits in the guest bedroom. You leave out a few photos, a book–a silver comb that sits on your dresser.
Your loved one is now incorporated. Their clothes, their memories are a part of you, in your house so to speak–but they have a place and not like a box you trip over whenever you walk into a room. Anytime you need to, you can slide open a draw and remember. Find comfort.
And now, there’s also room for something new.
~Carol D. O’Dell, Family Advisor at Caring.com
Author, Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir,available on Amazon
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Monday, April 7, 2008
Three Sure Signs Your Loved One is Ready for Hospice
You think your doctor will tell you when your loved one needs hospice?
They should know, right?
Not always the case.
I asked my mother’s doctor about hospice (Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s) months beforehand and was “poo-pooed” away. Mother had a great way of rallying herself together for doctor visits, but I lived with her, cared for her 24/7, and I was beginning to see a shift.
I knew my mother had taken a turn. I knew that both of us were over the tests, treatments, and hospital rigamarole. I knew, in essence, that she had given up the will to live.
Alzheimer’s does more to a person’s body than simply making them forget names and current events. They forget things at a molecular level as well. They forget what to do with a spoon, how to chew and swallow. These symptoms don’t just come and stay–like early dementia, it comes and goes. That makes it easier to dismiss it, deny it, and hope it isn’t true.
Some days, my mom was pretty alert and could at least remember to put whatever food was in her hand into her mouth. Although her ability to remember me or where she lived seemed permanently lost, her body could still manage biological urges.
On other days, that natural reaction of opening your mouth when food comes near–was gone. That’s a tough realization.
For the most part, Mother was still mobile, or at least trying to be. She had this incredible drive to walk, stand up, and I know that for her, Alzheimer’s had a dimension of added aggitation. Some Alzheimer’s patients pace, exhibit unbelievable strength, and can go with limited sleep.
It’s one of those diseases that can manifest itself differently in different people. Some are babblers, curse like sailors, say and do apprehensible sexual things, blurt out inappropriate racial comments. Others are silent. They’re entombed and barely ever move.
Same disease, different brains.
But how do you know as a family member/caregiver that it’s time to call hospice?
First, the working definition of hospice or palliative care is: your loved one has a “life limiting condition.” Their words, not mine. While it’s technically correct, and I can’t think of a better way to say it, it still sounds odd.
In layman’s terms, most people think it means your loved one has a diagnosis of less than six months to live, and with some hospice situations, a year. While that’s technically true, some people receive hospice or palliative services for much longer.
The difference in hospice and palliative care is that palliative care specializes in the relief of the pain, symptoms and stress of serious illness.
Hospice care always provides palliative care. Hospice focuses on terminally ill people who no longer seek treatments to cure them and who are expected to live for a year or less.
Three signs That Indicate Your Loved One is Ready For Hospice:
1. The disease has progressed to the point that there’s no cure, and you’ve decided to make your loved one comfortable and not actively seek to treat the disease.
2. You and your loved one chooses to forego any further testing of hospitalizations and will allow the dying process to happen naturally.
3. You’re ready to begin to let go, say good bye, and follow the oath of hospice, which is to “neither hinder, not hasten death.”
Check out www.nhpco.org, website for National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization for more information.
Caring Connections also shares this advice: (www.caringconnections.com)
“Anyone can inquire about hospice services. You or your loved one may call a local hospice and request services. The hospice staff will then contact your physician to determine if a referral to hospice is appropriate. Another way to inquire about hospice is to talk with your physician, and he or she can make a referral to hospice.Hospice can begin as soon as a ‘referral’ is made by the person’s doctor.
The hospice staff will then contact the person referred to set up an initial meeting to review the services the hospice will offer and sign the necessary consent forms for care to begin. Usually, care is ready to begin within a day or two of a referral. However, in urgent situations, service may begin sooner.
When is the right time to ask about hospice?
Now is the best time to learn more about hospice care and ask questions about what to expect. Although end-of-life care may be difficult to discuss, it is best for loved ones and family members to share their wishes long before it becomes a concern. This can greatly reduce stress when the time for hospice becomes apparent. When is the right time to ask about hospice?
By having these discussions in advance, uncomfortable situations can be avoided. Instead, educated decisions can be made that include the advice and input of loved ones.”
Shannon Martin of Aging Wisely shares:
Just recently when my Grandmother died, my aunt (who is a geriatric nurse) said, “I don’t know that it’s time for Hospice yet” even when my Grandmother had stopped eating and they had decided no more hospitalizations, tests etc.”
This shows there’s some denial, even among professionally trained individuals, especially when it involves their own family. Accepting that the end is near, that you will begin to have to let go, to sit quietly by a loved one’s bedside, to not go into “heroics” and throw on the paddles or rush to the ER is very, very difficult.
The last month of my own mother’s life was in many ways one of the most peaceful times of my life. It was also excruciating. As a society, we’re no longer taught to sit with death.
We’re no longer taught to let nature take its course, to relinquish our control. Learning to do this, to hear the clock tick, to let my family come and go as I sat by my mother’s bed and wiped her brow–
It was a finishing of something I had begun.
It was bone deep and cathartic, and gave me time to think and process.
I began to see the whole of my mother’s life.
It wasn’t only what hospice did for me or for my mom, it was what they stood for, the permission they gave us all to let go in love.
~Carol D. O’Dell
Author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir
available on Amazon
www.mothering-mother.com
www.kunati.com
They should know, right?
Not always the case.
I asked my mother’s doctor about hospice (Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s) months beforehand and was “poo-pooed” away. Mother had a great way of rallying herself together for doctor visits, but I lived with her, cared for her 24/7, and I was beginning to see a shift.
I knew my mother had taken a turn. I knew that both of us were over the tests, treatments, and hospital rigamarole. I knew, in essence, that she had given up the will to live.
Alzheimer’s does more to a person’s body than simply making them forget names and current events. They forget things at a molecular level as well. They forget what to do with a spoon, how to chew and swallow. These symptoms don’t just come and stay–like early dementia, it comes and goes. That makes it easier to dismiss it, deny it, and hope it isn’t true.
Some days, my mom was pretty alert and could at least remember to put whatever food was in her hand into her mouth. Although her ability to remember me or where she lived seemed permanently lost, her body could still manage biological urges.
On other days, that natural reaction of opening your mouth when food comes near–was gone. That’s a tough realization.
For the most part, Mother was still mobile, or at least trying to be. She had this incredible drive to walk, stand up, and I know that for her, Alzheimer’s had a dimension of added aggitation. Some Alzheimer’s patients pace, exhibit unbelievable strength, and can go with limited sleep.
It’s one of those diseases that can manifest itself differently in different people. Some are babblers, curse like sailors, say and do apprehensible sexual things, blurt out inappropriate racial comments. Others are silent. They’re entombed and barely ever move.
Same disease, different brains.
But how do you know as a family member/caregiver that it’s time to call hospice?
First, the working definition of hospice or palliative care is: your loved one has a “life limiting condition.” Their words, not mine. While it’s technically correct, and I can’t think of a better way to say it, it still sounds odd.
In layman’s terms, most people think it means your loved one has a diagnosis of less than six months to live, and with some hospice situations, a year. While that’s technically true, some people receive hospice or palliative services for much longer.
The difference in hospice and palliative care is that palliative care specializes in the relief of the pain, symptoms and stress of serious illness.
Hospice care always provides palliative care. Hospice focuses on terminally ill people who no longer seek treatments to cure them and who are expected to live for a year or less.
Three signs That Indicate Your Loved One is Ready For Hospice:
1. The disease has progressed to the point that there’s no cure, and you’ve decided to make your loved one comfortable and not actively seek to treat the disease.
2. You and your loved one chooses to forego any further testing of hospitalizations and will allow the dying process to happen naturally.
3. You’re ready to begin to let go, say good bye, and follow the oath of hospice, which is to “neither hinder, not hasten death.”
Check out www.nhpco.org, website for National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization for more information.
Caring Connections also shares this advice: (www.caringconnections.com)
“Anyone can inquire about hospice services. You or your loved one may call a local hospice and request services. The hospice staff will then contact your physician to determine if a referral to hospice is appropriate. Another way to inquire about hospice is to talk with your physician, and he or she can make a referral to hospice.Hospice can begin as soon as a ‘referral’ is made by the person’s doctor.
The hospice staff will then contact the person referred to set up an initial meeting to review the services the hospice will offer and sign the necessary consent forms for care to begin. Usually, care is ready to begin within a day or two of a referral. However, in urgent situations, service may begin sooner.
When is the right time to ask about hospice?
Now is the best time to learn more about hospice care and ask questions about what to expect. Although end-of-life care may be difficult to discuss, it is best for loved ones and family members to share their wishes long before it becomes a concern. This can greatly reduce stress when the time for hospice becomes apparent. When is the right time to ask about hospice?
By having these discussions in advance, uncomfortable situations can be avoided. Instead, educated decisions can be made that include the advice and input of loved ones.”
Shannon Martin of Aging Wisely shares:
Just recently when my Grandmother died, my aunt (who is a geriatric nurse) said, “I don’t know that it’s time for Hospice yet” even when my Grandmother had stopped eating and they had decided no more hospitalizations, tests etc.”
This shows there’s some denial, even among professionally trained individuals, especially when it involves their own family. Accepting that the end is near, that you will begin to have to let go, to sit quietly by a loved one’s bedside, to not go into “heroics” and throw on the paddles or rush to the ER is very, very difficult.
The last month of my own mother’s life was in many ways one of the most peaceful times of my life. It was also excruciating. As a society, we’re no longer taught to sit with death.
We’re no longer taught to let nature take its course, to relinquish our control. Learning to do this, to hear the clock tick, to let my family come and go as I sat by my mother’s bed and wiped her brow–
It was a finishing of something I had begun.
It was bone deep and cathartic, and gave me time to think and process.
I began to see the whole of my mother’s life.
It wasn’t only what hospice did for me or for my mom, it was what they stood for, the permission they gave us all to let go in love.
~Carol D. O’Dell
Author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir
available on Amazon
www.mothering-mother.com
www.kunati.com
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Caregivers: Step Outside, Take a Walk and Prevent Vitamin D Deficiency
When is the last time you went for a walk? I mean a good 30 minute walk
I’m not sure of all the reasons, but many of our elder loved ones gradually lose interest in the great outdoors.
I know that their eyes become more sensitive to light, but I also think they perceive it as a lot of trouble, or that they might trip and fall.
That’s sad. Nature is so healing to the soul and the senses.
Hobbies like bird watching and fishing aren’t too strenuous either and are extremely relaxing and enjoyable–as well as something new to learn and can be shared cross generation-ally. Between sunblock, the shade, and hats, you can still manage to get a little sun and not expose yourself to skin cancer.
Vitamin D is absorbed through the skin, and this is the easier, most natural way to receive it.
Being inside isn’t necessarily safer either. Home accidents are all too common.
But there’s a hidden danger from staying indoors--that’s vitamin D deficiency–and it’s on the rise.
The reason I’m writing on this topic is because of a neighbor I ran into. We were chatting and I did notice her color was off, and she told me that her doctor told her she had a vitamin D deficiency. She runs at 6am every morning, but then she works all day and doesn’t get home until dark. Still, I would have thought that getting in and out of your car, going to lunch, etc., would offer enough “light.” Apparently not.
Our bodies can naturally synthesize more than 20,000 IU of vitamin D in just 20 minutes of sun exposure without ill effect. Our bodies even ”shuts off the synthesis” when we get enough. This doesn’t happen when we eat sources of vitamin D — the same 20,000 IU of vitamin D taken as an oral supplement could be toxic.
I did a little research:
A lack of vitamin D leads to bone and muscle weakness as well as leads to osteoporosis.
Women are more likely to have Vitamin D deficiency than men.
Infants and the elderly are at a higher risk
People who are milk intolerant may also have a difficult time converting Vitamin D, and therefore, may be deficient.
Breast milk provides some vitamin D, but not enough, and there diet should be supplemented.
Even though you live in a warm climate, how you live, what you wear, your religious practice (clothing), may still cause you to be at risk for a vitamin D deficiency
In extreme cases, it causes rickets, a condition that causes “soft bones,” fractures and deformities.
Foods that contain vitamin D are:
Fortified milk, cod liver oil, (but who’s going to drink that stuff?)
Egg yolks, butter, and oily fish like salmon.
Beef, cabbage, and corn oil
Fortified milk and breakfast cereals, are contain a synthetic vitamin D.
Check to make sure you’re getting at least 200 (IU–international units) per day in your multi-vitamin.
Infants need a higher dose, as do many of our elderly since their bodies may not be processing what they’re ingesting. In some older people, a 400 IU supplement may not be enough because they do not have proper absorption (calcium/lactose issues).
Pediatricians are surprised to see children suffering from rickets, a bone disorder caused by vitamin D deficiency. Is this due to our new lifestyles? Longer school hours, more homework, video games and computer time? How many kids do you see outside in the afternoon in your neighborhood. Not as many as I used to.
If you’re experiencing severe muscle weakness and pain, it may be an undiagnosed vitamin D deficiency.
Recent studies suggest low vitamin D may be putting the elderly at higher risk for the bone-thinning disease osteoporosis and life-threatening falls and fractures.
Not wanting to scare you, but vitamin D deficiency contributes to certain forms of cancer, high blood pressure, depression, and immune-system disorders such as multiple sclerosis, rheumatoid arthritis and diabetes.
What to do?
Check your multi-vitamin and get the proper dosage
Sit outside or even better, go for a walk 20-30 minutes a day
If you think you might be deficient, ask your doctor for a simple blood test
I hope I’ve alerted you to something that could make your life or the life of your loved one better–and brighter!
Caregivers, getting outside is a wonderful way to connect with your loved one. Share a glass of milk, pop your vitamin and grab a fishing pole, or go dig in the garden. Alzheimer's folks light up when their environment changes,and even if your loved one can only make it to the front porch, then that's okay. You can do a bit of yard work at the same time.
It might take a little coaxing to get them out the door, but it's worth it.
Hope you enjoy an evening stroll.
~Carol D. O’Dell
Author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir
available on Amazon and in most bookstores
www.mothering-mother.com
I’m not sure of all the reasons, but many of our elder loved ones gradually lose interest in the great outdoors.
I know that their eyes become more sensitive to light, but I also think they perceive it as a lot of trouble, or that they might trip and fall.
That’s sad. Nature is so healing to the soul and the senses.
Hobbies like bird watching and fishing aren’t too strenuous either and are extremely relaxing and enjoyable–as well as something new to learn and can be shared cross generation-ally. Between sunblock, the shade, and hats, you can still manage to get a little sun and not expose yourself to skin cancer.
Vitamin D is absorbed through the skin, and this is the easier, most natural way to receive it.
Being inside isn’t necessarily safer either. Home accidents are all too common.
But there’s a hidden danger from staying indoors--that’s vitamin D deficiency–and it’s on the rise.
The reason I’m writing on this topic is because of a neighbor I ran into. We were chatting and I did notice her color was off, and she told me that her doctor told her she had a vitamin D deficiency. She runs at 6am every morning, but then she works all day and doesn’t get home until dark. Still, I would have thought that getting in and out of your car, going to lunch, etc., would offer enough “light.” Apparently not.
Our bodies can naturally synthesize more than 20,000 IU of vitamin D in just 20 minutes of sun exposure without ill effect. Our bodies even ”shuts off the synthesis” when we get enough. This doesn’t happen when we eat sources of vitamin D — the same 20,000 IU of vitamin D taken as an oral supplement could be toxic.
I did a little research:
A lack of vitamin D leads to bone and muscle weakness as well as leads to osteoporosis.
Women are more likely to have Vitamin D deficiency than men.
Infants and the elderly are at a higher risk
People who are milk intolerant may also have a difficult time converting Vitamin D, and therefore, may be deficient.
Breast milk provides some vitamin D, but not enough, and there diet should be supplemented.
Even though you live in a warm climate, how you live, what you wear, your religious practice (clothing), may still cause you to be at risk for a vitamin D deficiency
In extreme cases, it causes rickets, a condition that causes “soft bones,” fractures and deformities.
Foods that contain vitamin D are:
Fortified milk, cod liver oil, (but who’s going to drink that stuff?)
Egg yolks, butter, and oily fish like salmon.
Beef, cabbage, and corn oil
Fortified milk and breakfast cereals, are contain a synthetic vitamin D.
Check to make sure you’re getting at least 200 (IU–international units) per day in your multi-vitamin.
Infants need a higher dose, as do many of our elderly since their bodies may not be processing what they’re ingesting. In some older people, a 400 IU supplement may not be enough because they do not have proper absorption (calcium/lactose issues).
Pediatricians are surprised to see children suffering from rickets, a bone disorder caused by vitamin D deficiency. Is this due to our new lifestyles? Longer school hours, more homework, video games and computer time? How many kids do you see outside in the afternoon in your neighborhood. Not as many as I used to.
If you’re experiencing severe muscle weakness and pain, it may be an undiagnosed vitamin D deficiency.
Recent studies suggest low vitamin D may be putting the elderly at higher risk for the bone-thinning disease osteoporosis and life-threatening falls and fractures.
Not wanting to scare you, but vitamin D deficiency contributes to certain forms of cancer, high blood pressure, depression, and immune-system disorders such as multiple sclerosis, rheumatoid arthritis and diabetes.
What to do?
Check your multi-vitamin and get the proper dosage
Sit outside or even better, go for a walk 20-30 minutes a day
If you think you might be deficient, ask your doctor for a simple blood test
I hope I’ve alerted you to something that could make your life or the life of your loved one better–and brighter!
Caregivers, getting outside is a wonderful way to connect with your loved one. Share a glass of milk, pop your vitamin and grab a fishing pole, or go dig in the garden. Alzheimer's folks light up when their environment changes,and even if your loved one can only make it to the front porch, then that's okay. You can do a bit of yard work at the same time.
It might take a little coaxing to get them out the door, but it's worth it.
Hope you enjoy an evening stroll.
~Carol D. O’Dell
Author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir
available on Amazon and in most bookstores
www.mothering-mother.com
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
What's a Dry Run? Feeling Duped
Caregivers who have made it to the end stage are fitful, worn out creatures who shouldn’t be messed with.
The "dry run" I’m talking about when you think your loved one is going to pass away, and you call all the family, cry, say good-bye…and then they rally back to health.
You think you’d be relieved, but you’re exhausted, and if you’re like me, I felt a duped. Punked, like the new TV show calls it.
We had already called hospice which was extremely upsetting because it means you face that the end is near.
I could barely say the word, “hospice” at first.
Calling all my mother’s family was grueling–to say this again, and again–”I don’t think mother’s going to be here much longer.”
I cleaned her room, bought new curtains, made things simpler, gathered photos for her memorial service, prepared my kids.
Things got worse: she wasn’t eating and I sat by her bed and drizzled melted ice cream bars into her barely parted lips. My back ached. I grappled with the idea of a feeding tube and decided not to. She had stated on her living will not to, but it was excruciating to wonder if I had done the right thing. I wiped her face, stroking her tissue paper skin.
I stopped everything–going anywhere. Cooking–my daughters took over for me. Church–we all felt weighted and no one knew exactly what to do with ourselves. Everyone just sat on the couch…waiting. I lived off of strong coffee.
That lasted for about three days–and nights.
I wake the next morning, and she’s standing next to her little kitchen area.
She looks alert, asks, “What’s for breakfast?”
Now, see the whole picture before you judge my reaction:
My hair is matted to the back of my head from sleeping in the recliner next to her bed, I’m in rumpled clothes, and my mouth feels like I squeezed white glue in it. I haven’t seen the sun in days and I have no idea if my family is still in tact.
Breakfast!
I'm pretty sure I let a few curse words fly.
I was a bit miffed. Confused.
What day was it? Where was I? I scrambled eggs, made her a tray and took a shower.
Yes, I was angry, but it was good to be angry.
What do I mean by that?
Anger, ironically is a positive emotion.
You can only get angry at something you believe you can change.Apathy is when you’ve given up.
I didn’t want my mother to die, but I felt like someone had tied a rope onto my ankle and kept pushing me off a ledge over and over again. Caregiving had taken its toll. My emotions were strung so thin I had nothing left.
I hope letting you know that a “dry run” might be in your future will give you the heads up you need not to wear yourself slap out.
You never know what’s going to happen, but many people experience a “premonition,” an event that precedes the actual time of departure.
I believe it happens for a reason. It helps us get our thoughts and hearts aligned. It helps cushion the blow.
I actually walked around for a few days a bit ticked at her.
My life felt like I was walking into a room and knowing I went there to get something/do something but couldn’t think for the love of kittens what it was I wanted.
She toodled in her apartment (built onto our house), dozed, and we chatted. It’s hard to stay mad at someone who’s living on borrowed time and doesn’t know who the heck you are.
By then, she was referring to me as “little girl,” when she could find words at all.
What did I learn?
The will has more to do with life and death than a diagnosis.
A “dry run” is a lot like what you do when you're a little kid and you go in your mom or dad's closet and try on their shoes, coat and hat. You didn't know it, but you were practicing being grown. You were trying on your future.
And besides, it felt good to be mad. I can deal with mad. ~Carol D. O’Dell
Author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir
Available on Amazonwww.mothering-mother.com
www.kunati.com/mothering
The "dry run" I’m talking about when you think your loved one is going to pass away, and you call all the family, cry, say good-bye…and then they rally back to health.
You think you’d be relieved, but you’re exhausted, and if you’re like me, I felt a duped. Punked, like the new TV show calls it.
We had already called hospice which was extremely upsetting because it means you face that the end is near.
I could barely say the word, “hospice” at first.
Calling all my mother’s family was grueling–to say this again, and again–”I don’t think mother’s going to be here much longer.”
I cleaned her room, bought new curtains, made things simpler, gathered photos for her memorial service, prepared my kids.
Things got worse: she wasn’t eating and I sat by her bed and drizzled melted ice cream bars into her barely parted lips. My back ached. I grappled with the idea of a feeding tube and decided not to. She had stated on her living will not to, but it was excruciating to wonder if I had done the right thing. I wiped her face, stroking her tissue paper skin.
I stopped everything–going anywhere. Cooking–my daughters took over for me. Church–we all felt weighted and no one knew exactly what to do with ourselves. Everyone just sat on the couch…waiting. I lived off of strong coffee.
That lasted for about three days–and nights.
I wake the next morning, and she’s standing next to her little kitchen area.
She looks alert, asks, “What’s for breakfast?”
Now, see the whole picture before you judge my reaction:
My hair is matted to the back of my head from sleeping in the recliner next to her bed, I’m in rumpled clothes, and my mouth feels like I squeezed white glue in it. I haven’t seen the sun in days and I have no idea if my family is still in tact.
Breakfast!
I'm pretty sure I let a few curse words fly.
I was a bit miffed. Confused.
What day was it? Where was I? I scrambled eggs, made her a tray and took a shower.
Yes, I was angry, but it was good to be angry.
What do I mean by that?
Anger, ironically is a positive emotion.
You can only get angry at something you believe you can change.Apathy is when you’ve given up.
I didn’t want my mother to die, but I felt like someone had tied a rope onto my ankle and kept pushing me off a ledge over and over again. Caregiving had taken its toll. My emotions were strung so thin I had nothing left.
I hope letting you know that a “dry run” might be in your future will give you the heads up you need not to wear yourself slap out.
You never know what’s going to happen, but many people experience a “premonition,” an event that precedes the actual time of departure.
I believe it happens for a reason. It helps us get our thoughts and hearts aligned. It helps cushion the blow.
I actually walked around for a few days a bit ticked at her.
My life felt like I was walking into a room and knowing I went there to get something/do something but couldn’t think for the love of kittens what it was I wanted.
She toodled in her apartment (built onto our house), dozed, and we chatted. It’s hard to stay mad at someone who’s living on borrowed time and doesn’t know who the heck you are.
By then, she was referring to me as “little girl,” when she could find words at all.
What did I learn?
The will has more to do with life and death than a diagnosis.
A “dry run” is a lot like what you do when you're a little kid and you go in your mom or dad's closet and try on their shoes, coat and hat. You didn't know it, but you were practicing being grown. You were trying on your future.
And besides, it felt good to be mad. I can deal with mad. ~Carol D. O’Dell
Author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir
Available on Amazonwww.mothering-mother.com
www.kunati.com/mothering
Friday, February 29, 2008
Caregivers: What Do You Believe You Deserve?
I’m hoping someone out there will step up and tell me
I’m not the only one who does this.I had this huge personal revelation that was a part of a deep belief system–and I realized that I did this very “thing” during caregiving–and if I did this, other caregivers might be doing it too.
This is the “thing” I’m talking about.
Paying for what you’ve done.
Example: You know how when you’re a kid and you’re supposed to get to go do something fun–like say, to go a birthday party–your parents tell you that to be able to go you have to clean your room, cut the grass, and when you get back you also have to do all your homework for the week?
In other words, you have to pay for having the good time.
And of course, you really had to PAY if you were ever bad–came home late, got in trouble (they called it punishment)
Well, I realized that I was (and am) still doing this to myself.
If I went out of town or went out to dinner with girlfriends, I’ve always made sure the house was clean, there was extra dogfood–and if I was gone a few days, I’d make sure there was a roast in the crock pot, a lasagna in the freezer…in other words, PAYMENT.
I couldn’t ever just believe I deserved something good.
Not just a gift–a gift is given sometimes to the UNdeserving.
I mean, believing deep down that I deserved something good–with no need to pay for it in any way.
Remember the old Puritan Ethic?
Work hard and God will reward you.
I twisted it even further…Work hard or God won’t reward you.
Even after you’ve been rewarded, STILL work hard because you probably haven’t worked hard enough!
In other words…work, work, work!
Did I hardly ever give myself a break (in part) as a caregiver? Not too much because I believed I had to PAY for past transgressions. I told myself I couldn’t find good help (in part, true), or that mother wouldn’t adjust (also true) or…the list went on. I know now that I thought I had to pay for my own good health, or pay if I were to even think about having a good time.
Sick, I know.
Recently, as most of you know, I published a book, Mothering Mother.I’ve spent months and months at caregiving talks, book signings, TV and radio spots. I’ve gotten lots of attention–something adults don’t like to talk about. I’ve received “fan” mail from wonderful caregivers and readers, I’ve received roses at special events…been on CNN, and it’s been hard, hard work, but it’s also been a whole lotta fun!
I’m suited for this. I love the juxtaposition of thought and quiet and contemplation and creating something on the page–and then I LOVE dressing up, “performing” mom and me in my little one act plays where I do both of us–I love making people laugh and cry. I love signing books! I could do it all day! I love knowing that I’ve touched someone’s lives. I even love the drives, the bookstores, the blogs.
Yikes. Does part of me believe that because I love it so, so much that I should have to “pay” for all this fun?
Now, a little bit of the hullabaloo has worn off and I realize that I’ve lapsed into this “I need to pay my family back for all that.” I’ve taken time away, stayed overnight, spent copious hours online and in bookstores. They’ve been patient and proud, but I’m sure it gets old.
I see that I’ve been in drudgery mode lately–working hard with no joy. Taking jobs that are clearly not me. I thought I had to. I had so much to pay back.
Caregiver: Do You Believe You Have a Debt You Have to Pay?
I once had this great therapist who said the magic words that
changed my life…
“It’s a new day!”
So, I ask you–is there some part of you that took on the role of primary caregiver, or hardly ever lets yourself take a break because you believe you have to pay something back? Am I attracting this because I believe I need to pay? Do I feel guilty that my loved one is sick/dying?
Do I need to pay?
For being that black sheep?
For that adventure in college?
For screwing up my finances?
For taking off and letting my siblings deal with mom and dad for a while?
Because I enjoy good health and financial security?
Let it go. (I says to me-self)
Look at the sky and say, “Thanks!” That’s it.
A heart of gratitude is all that’s asked.
That’s The Secret.
Make a list of what you deserve:
I deserve to have daily joy.
I deserve to view myself with tenderness and compassion.
I deserve to be appreciated.
I deserve regular breaks.
I deserve help on a consistent basis.
I deserve a real vacation every year.
I deserve to caregive out choice and heart of love.
I deserve for my siblings/family to contribute.
I deserve for my thoughts and opinons to be respected.
As for caregiving, yeah, you may still want to and need to give care–but this could be the revelation of knowing and believing that you're simply good enough, and that you deserve good things without having to "pay," well, that changes everything.
~Carol d. O'DellAuthor of Mothering Mothering: A Daughter's Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir
available on amazon www.mothering-mother.com
I’m not the only one who does this.I had this huge personal revelation that was a part of a deep belief system–and I realized that I did this very “thing” during caregiving–and if I did this, other caregivers might be doing it too.
This is the “thing” I’m talking about.
Paying for what you’ve done.
Example: You know how when you’re a kid and you’re supposed to get to go do something fun–like say, to go a birthday party–your parents tell you that to be able to go you have to clean your room, cut the grass, and when you get back you also have to do all your homework for the week?
In other words, you have to pay for having the good time.
And of course, you really had to PAY if you were ever bad–came home late, got in trouble (they called it punishment)
Well, I realized that I was (and am) still doing this to myself.
If I went out of town or went out to dinner with girlfriends, I’ve always made sure the house was clean, there was extra dogfood–and if I was gone a few days, I’d make sure there was a roast in the crock pot, a lasagna in the freezer…in other words, PAYMENT.
I couldn’t ever just believe I deserved something good.
Not just a gift–a gift is given sometimes to the UNdeserving.
I mean, believing deep down that I deserved something good–with no need to pay for it in any way.
Remember the old Puritan Ethic?
Work hard and God will reward you.
I twisted it even further…Work hard or God won’t reward you.
Even after you’ve been rewarded, STILL work hard because you probably haven’t worked hard enough!
In other words…work, work, work!
Did I hardly ever give myself a break (in part) as a caregiver? Not too much because I believed I had to PAY for past transgressions. I told myself I couldn’t find good help (in part, true), or that mother wouldn’t adjust (also true) or…the list went on. I know now that I thought I had to pay for my own good health, or pay if I were to even think about having a good time.
Sick, I know.
Recently, as most of you know, I published a book, Mothering Mother.I’ve spent months and months at caregiving talks, book signings, TV and radio spots. I’ve gotten lots of attention–something adults don’t like to talk about. I’ve received “fan” mail from wonderful caregivers and readers, I’ve received roses at special events…been on CNN, and it’s been hard, hard work, but it’s also been a whole lotta fun!
I’m suited for this. I love the juxtaposition of thought and quiet and contemplation and creating something on the page–and then I LOVE dressing up, “performing” mom and me in my little one act plays where I do both of us–I love making people laugh and cry. I love signing books! I could do it all day! I love knowing that I’ve touched someone’s lives. I even love the drives, the bookstores, the blogs.
Yikes. Does part of me believe that because I love it so, so much that I should have to “pay” for all this fun?
Now, a little bit of the hullabaloo has worn off and I realize that I’ve lapsed into this “I need to pay my family back for all that.” I’ve taken time away, stayed overnight, spent copious hours online and in bookstores. They’ve been patient and proud, but I’m sure it gets old.
I see that I’ve been in drudgery mode lately–working hard with no joy. Taking jobs that are clearly not me. I thought I had to. I had so much to pay back.
Caregiver: Do You Believe You Have a Debt You Have to Pay?
I once had this great therapist who said the magic words that
changed my life…
“It’s a new day!”
So, I ask you–is there some part of you that took on the role of primary caregiver, or hardly ever lets yourself take a break because you believe you have to pay something back? Am I attracting this because I believe I need to pay? Do I feel guilty that my loved one is sick/dying?
Do I need to pay?
For being that black sheep?
For that adventure in college?
For screwing up my finances?
For taking off and letting my siblings deal with mom and dad for a while?
Because I enjoy good health and financial security?
Let it go. (I says to me-self)
Look at the sky and say, “Thanks!” That’s it.
A heart of gratitude is all that’s asked.
That’s The Secret.
Make a list of what you deserve:
I deserve to have daily joy.
I deserve to view myself with tenderness and compassion.
I deserve to be appreciated.
I deserve regular breaks.
I deserve help on a consistent basis.
I deserve a real vacation every year.
I deserve to caregive out choice and heart of love.
I deserve for my siblings/family to contribute.
I deserve for my thoughts and opinons to be respected.
As for caregiving, yeah, you may still want to and need to give care–but this could be the revelation of knowing and believing that you're simply good enough, and that you deserve good things without having to "pay," well, that changes everything.
~Carol d. O'DellAuthor of Mothering Mothering: A Daughter's Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir
available on amazon www.mothering-mother.com
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Caregiving Transitions--The Elder Driving Dilemma
Life changes.
Just as we get used to one thing, it no longer works, and we have to figure out the next transition.
Caregivers and the folks they love and care for experience transition in rapid succession.
It's a lot like when your child turned fifteen--they can drive with you in the car, and before you know it, they're sixteen and begging to drive alone--you aren't ready for this--or for the dating, curfews, part-time jobs, SAT preps, and BAM! They're eighteen and headed off to college.
Only three years ago they were still your baby--gangly yes, but not living in a dorm, voting, and heaven forbid, fighting a war.
Our elders also go through rapid changes. You question whether they should still drive so you drive behind them, monitor their turns and parking. Your doubts are confirmed and it's time to have the first of many BIG TALKS.
The transition from driving to not driving is oftentimes the first a caregiverr must prepare for, and I do mean prepare. It's best to have this talk as a scenario that hasn't occured yet.
"Dad--"
"What?"
"You know, you're 85 and still driving, and I think that's great, but let's face it--one day, you will most likely not be safe behind the wheel."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"We have to."
"No, we don't."
"Yes, Dad, we do. Hear me out. I love you. I want you to have your independence--I really do. I respect you immensely, and I love you and want you to be safe--and I don't want you to hurt someone else."
(silence)
"This is what I propose. I think we should do what I did with your grandson. I think you should consider driving only when someone else is in the car with you. That way, I can see how you're doing--will you do that for me?"
(silence)
Take his hand. Be quiet for a minute. Change the subject. Enough for today. Go get an ice cream.
This is the first conversation. There will be several.
He has to get used to the idea that his life is changing. He has to transition out of the life he has--and it won't be easy.
Let's think about what our loved ones are feeling:
I'm still healthy and my driving is fine, what's she talking about?
It's my car. It's paid for and I'm insured.
I only drive to the store and to church. I know my way in my sleep.
They just want my money.
Why don't they take all the drunk drivers off the road first. They're more of a menace than I am.
Once I give up driving, I'll be her prisoner.
By putting ourselves in their situation, we see how very painful having someone decide when you can no longer drive can be.
It's best if they decide when it's no longer wise to drive on their own, but in many cases, that's just not going to happen. Their judgement is impaired. They fear losing their freedom. It's teenage-hood in reverse!
What if Dad's cantankerous and won't stop driving even when it's not safe?
We'll talk about your options tomorrow.
~Carol D. O'DellAuthor of Mothering Mother: A Daughter's Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir
available on Amazonwww.mothering-mother.com
Just as we get used to one thing, it no longer works, and we have to figure out the next transition.
Caregivers and the folks they love and care for experience transition in rapid succession.
It's a lot like when your child turned fifteen--they can drive with you in the car, and before you know it, they're sixteen and begging to drive alone--you aren't ready for this--or for the dating, curfews, part-time jobs, SAT preps, and BAM! They're eighteen and headed off to college.
Only three years ago they were still your baby--gangly yes, but not living in a dorm, voting, and heaven forbid, fighting a war.
Our elders also go through rapid changes. You question whether they should still drive so you drive behind them, monitor their turns and parking. Your doubts are confirmed and it's time to have the first of many BIG TALKS.
The transition from driving to not driving is oftentimes the first a caregiverr must prepare for, and I do mean prepare. It's best to have this talk as a scenario that hasn't occured yet.
"Dad--"
"What?"
"You know, you're 85 and still driving, and I think that's great, but let's face it--one day, you will most likely not be safe behind the wheel."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"We have to."
"No, we don't."
"Yes, Dad, we do. Hear me out. I love you. I want you to have your independence--I really do. I respect you immensely, and I love you and want you to be safe--and I don't want you to hurt someone else."
(silence)
"This is what I propose. I think we should do what I did with your grandson. I think you should consider driving only when someone else is in the car with you. That way, I can see how you're doing--will you do that for me?"
(silence)
Take his hand. Be quiet for a minute. Change the subject. Enough for today. Go get an ice cream.
This is the first conversation. There will be several.
He has to get used to the idea that his life is changing. He has to transition out of the life he has--and it won't be easy.
Let's think about what our loved ones are feeling:
I'm still healthy and my driving is fine, what's she talking about?
It's my car. It's paid for and I'm insured.
I only drive to the store and to church. I know my way in my sleep.
They just want my money.
Why don't they take all the drunk drivers off the road first. They're more of a menace than I am.
Once I give up driving, I'll be her prisoner.
By putting ourselves in their situation, we see how very painful having someone decide when you can no longer drive can be.
It's best if they decide when it's no longer wise to drive on their own, but in many cases, that's just not going to happen. Their judgement is impaired. They fear losing their freedom. It's teenage-hood in reverse!
What if Dad's cantankerous and won't stop driving even when it's not safe?
We'll talk about your options tomorrow.
~Carol D. O'DellAuthor of Mothering Mother: A Daughter's Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir
available on Amazonwww.mothering-mother.com
Friday, February 22, 2008
How to Approach Someone With Alzheimer's or Dementia
Approaching someone with dementia or Alzheimer's takes a little finesse. Too many folks charge right up to them and get in their "personal space," perhaps because they don't realize that person's with physical or neurological challenges still do have and need personal space.
Whether your loved one lives at home and you're their primary caregiver, or if they're in a care facility, knowing how to approach them is a crucial skill for all involved.
Sometimes they don't approach them at all.
They're uncomfortable, so they stay across the room and avoid eye contact. Some people don't even go to visit their loved ones. That's sad, because they're just scared and don't know exactly what to do.
Here area few simple steps to make this situation more comfortable for everyone:
If you have or can get a name tag, it can help. Wear your name tag since many dementia patients can still read and it reminds them who you are.
Approach a dementia or Alzheimer's patient calmly, extend your hand, but realize they might not know what to do with it. If they're in a wheelchair, bend your knees and meet them at their level. If you're much taller, try and make yourself an equal.
Don't come head on--even in nature, this is considered aggressive my most mammals.
Stand a little to their side--so they feel they have some air to breathe and an escape path if they feel threatened. Also realize that if you come up behind them or directly to their side, they might not see or hear you and you may startle them. They may react by a scream or even try to hit you if they're agitated, so make sure they know you're coming up to them, then step a little to the side so they have some breathing room and don't feel "attacked." Remember the old fight or flight reaction--some people might try to run away from you if you startle them, whereas others may try to bop you a good one!
Say your name clearly and ask them theirs. If you know their name then don't ask them--tell them their name. They shouldn't feel tested or put on the spot.
"Hi, my name is Carol, and your name is Lily. It's nice to meet you."
If they're shaking your hand and want to continue to hold it, then allow them to. Some dementia/neurological folks like touch and are quite tactile. They might touch your clothes or your hair, but realize that if it goes too far, it's because they might not be able to judge appropriateness. Simply gently take their hand from the unwanted are and either hold their hand, or let go and back up just a little without drawing attention to the unwanted behaviour. Like a little kid, people like to do things they're not supposed to.
If they don't seem to want to shake hands, respect that. Some dementia/neuro-impaired folks abhor touch, so don't take it personal.
If they lose their attention and aren't interested in you, don't take it personal.
If they aren't smiling, don't take it personal.
If you are assisting them in the restroom or dressing, also stand to the side. Our elderly folk don't have as good peripheral vision and if you stand directly to their side, they may feel more of a sense of privacy. You can also leverage yourself better with one arm holding their elbow up to their shoulder and the other across their back. Remind them you're still there, but be quiet if they need their privacy.
If they go into a stall alone, make sure they don't lock the door (unless you feel they're clear headed enough to know how to unlock it. Simply hold it closed--even if you have to make an excuse about the lock. Realize some folks like to "play" in the bathroom--everything from playing with their feces, to clogging up the toilet with excess paper, to self play, so don't let it surprise you. If you feel uncomfortable with all this, ask for someone who usually takes them to the restroom to do so. It's perfectly okay if you feel ill-prepared.
If they start telling you their life story, listen, but realize part of it or all of it might not be real. If you need to leave--try to find a place to interject, "I have to go to the kitchen (for example) and say good-bye. If you can lead them over to a group or something they can do, then do that and get them involved before you step away. Sometimes this is not possible, and they can be difficult to disengage. Treat them with respect, but realize they might not grasp the subtleties of conversation and let you leave without you being assertive.
Realize they might "lift" your rings or wallet out of your purse--out of curiosity. Some are collectors, but you might want to double check things before you leave.
If they start asking repeated questions, "Is my husband here?"
It's best to say something along the lines of, "You really loved him, didn't you?" or "What did you two like to do together?" Don't confront or argue--but do allow them to talk about that person because they probably do miss them.
After a few visits, you can decide if you should say goodbye, or if that upsets them. Don't feel bad if you need to simply slip away.
Always, always, always talk to the staff--everyone--kitchen help, bathers, nursing staff--everyone. You need them to be your friends. They need to know you know them by name. They're more likely to treat your loved one well if you treat them well. They're also less likely to do something less than appropriate if you know their name.
Thank them for all they do. No one is ever compensated enough to care for another human being. Genuine thanks is a way of showing honor.
By knowing a few simple strategies and understanding how our Alzheimer's, dementia, neuro-impaired process information, we can enjoy a calmer, more meaningful visit for everyone.
Carol D. O'Dell
Author of Mothering Mother; A Daughter's Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoiravailable on Amazon
www.mothering-mother.com.
www.Kunati.com
Whether your loved one lives at home and you're their primary caregiver, or if they're in a care facility, knowing how to approach them is a crucial skill for all involved.
Sometimes they don't approach them at all.
They're uncomfortable, so they stay across the room and avoid eye contact. Some people don't even go to visit their loved ones. That's sad, because they're just scared and don't know exactly what to do.
Here area few simple steps to make this situation more comfortable for everyone:
If you have or can get a name tag, it can help. Wear your name tag since many dementia patients can still read and it reminds them who you are.
Approach a dementia or Alzheimer's patient calmly, extend your hand, but realize they might not know what to do with it. If they're in a wheelchair, bend your knees and meet them at their level. If you're much taller, try and make yourself an equal.
Don't come head on--even in nature, this is considered aggressive my most mammals.
Stand a little to their side--so they feel they have some air to breathe and an escape path if they feel threatened. Also realize that if you come up behind them or directly to their side, they might not see or hear you and you may startle them. They may react by a scream or even try to hit you if they're agitated, so make sure they know you're coming up to them, then step a little to the side so they have some breathing room and don't feel "attacked." Remember the old fight or flight reaction--some people might try to run away from you if you startle them, whereas others may try to bop you a good one!
Say your name clearly and ask them theirs. If you know their name then don't ask them--tell them their name. They shouldn't feel tested or put on the spot.
"Hi, my name is Carol, and your name is Lily. It's nice to meet you."
If they're shaking your hand and want to continue to hold it, then allow them to. Some dementia/neurological folks like touch and are quite tactile. They might touch your clothes or your hair, but realize that if it goes too far, it's because they might not be able to judge appropriateness. Simply gently take their hand from the unwanted are and either hold their hand, or let go and back up just a little without drawing attention to the unwanted behaviour. Like a little kid, people like to do things they're not supposed to.
If they don't seem to want to shake hands, respect that. Some dementia/neuro-impaired folks abhor touch, so don't take it personal.
If they lose their attention and aren't interested in you, don't take it personal.
If they aren't smiling, don't take it personal.
If you are assisting them in the restroom or dressing, also stand to the side. Our elderly folk don't have as good peripheral vision and if you stand directly to their side, they may feel more of a sense of privacy. You can also leverage yourself better with one arm holding their elbow up to their shoulder and the other across their back. Remind them you're still there, but be quiet if they need their privacy.
If they go into a stall alone, make sure they don't lock the door (unless you feel they're clear headed enough to know how to unlock it. Simply hold it closed--even if you have to make an excuse about the lock. Realize some folks like to "play" in the bathroom--everything from playing with their feces, to clogging up the toilet with excess paper, to self play, so don't let it surprise you. If you feel uncomfortable with all this, ask for someone who usually takes them to the restroom to do so. It's perfectly okay if you feel ill-prepared.
If they start telling you their life story, listen, but realize part of it or all of it might not be real. If you need to leave--try to find a place to interject, "I have to go to the kitchen (for example) and say good-bye. If you can lead them over to a group or something they can do, then do that and get them involved before you step away. Sometimes this is not possible, and they can be difficult to disengage. Treat them with respect, but realize they might not grasp the subtleties of conversation and let you leave without you being assertive.
Realize they might "lift" your rings or wallet out of your purse--out of curiosity. Some are collectors, but you might want to double check things before you leave.
If they start asking repeated questions, "Is my husband here?"
It's best to say something along the lines of, "You really loved him, didn't you?" or "What did you two like to do together?" Don't confront or argue--but do allow them to talk about that person because they probably do miss them.
After a few visits, you can decide if you should say goodbye, or if that upsets them. Don't feel bad if you need to simply slip away.
Always, always, always talk to the staff--everyone--kitchen help, bathers, nursing staff--everyone. You need them to be your friends. They need to know you know them by name. They're more likely to treat your loved one well if you treat them well. They're also less likely to do something less than appropriate if you know their name.
Thank them for all they do. No one is ever compensated enough to care for another human being. Genuine thanks is a way of showing honor.
By knowing a few simple strategies and understanding how our Alzheimer's, dementia, neuro-impaired process information, we can enjoy a calmer, more meaningful visit for everyone.
Carol D. O'Dell
Author of Mothering Mother; A Daughter's Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoiravailable on Amazon
www.mothering-mother.com.
www.Kunati.com
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