Moving Day

 

Picture of a poster of the Port of Vancouver that I saw at the PNE this summer... I imagine this is where our container will be setting sail from.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Often when I see a moving van parked outside a building, and it's dumping with rain, I think to myself... those poor people!  On moving day, whilst darting around from house to car to moving van, I had to smile quietly to myself... I was officially "one of those poor people."  Worrying about luggage weight on the plane, I had packed up my boots and most of my shoes to be shipped in the container. (They are heading into summer in Australia.)  I realized too late that the only pair of closed toed shoes I have are completely non-resistant to keeping the water out.  I had to bring the shoes home at the end of the day and park them in front of the heater.

People have asked how our stuff is getting to Sydney.  I had not actually considered how it happened myself until it came my turn to do it.  Fortunately, I had a friend make the same move two months ago... so I just copied her!  An international moving company packs your things for you.  Australia has strict quarantine rules, so all items must be verified. No wicker (bye bye bike basket), items that would have been in touch with soil: lawnmowers, brooms, etc. Also... anything valuable must be packaged carefully to minimize breakage. All the boxes are loaded into a moving van, then transported to a warehouse where they are loaded into a container. Once the container has been filled up, it is loaded onto a container ship and sets sail across the Pacific. It is my understanding that that journey takes about 5 weeks. Once it arrives in Australia, it then has to pass Customs and Quarantine. The whole process can take somewhere in the vicinity of two months.
The movers took about 2 hours to pack up my things, and about half an hour at dad's place.  Funny... his things were organized and mine were not!  I have no idea where anything is.  Books were packed in with kitchenware, photography packed in with clothing.  My control freak self is trying to let it go!

After the three movers packed up my gear, we all headed over to dad's.  I almost didn't make it.  Some intelligent woman decided that she wanted to be in a parallel parking spot on my side of the street.  Heading in the opposite direction as me, she went to make a U-turn right in front of me.  On the slick, wet pavement.  I could feel the accident happen... that helpless feeling, then the impact.  I could see my front end hitting hers, then sliding into the parked cars down the side of the street.  The boxed items for the thrift store all slide forward as I planted the brakes.  And then the feeling passed.  She stopped in the middle of the road just in time, and squeaked her car into the parking spot.  I could not believe it.  Could not believe someone would be so stupid as to make a U-turn over a double solid line in the rain in heavy traffic.  Could not believe that I did not hit her.  Imagine... totalling the car two days before selling it!  Needless to say, I sat on the horn halfway down the block.  (Good old Honda horn, it gets everyone shaking in their boots!)

I was handling the move alright... though at one point, all three packers were whacking on rolls of tape onto boxes and I was wondering what ever was I doing!  Had a handle on my emotions until I spotted a sticker on one of dad's boxes: "Norman... Destination: Sydney, Australia."  It was the sticker that broke the camel's back and the flood gates opened up - back on the emotional roller coaster again.  This is actually happening!  And again, the words of a wise sibling when I told him... "Yer weird."

It does not not bother me that I will be without my things for a while. So far, I have not got a place to house them in Australia - and to be honest... I am quite tired of stuff.  I have been thinking, allocating and moving stuff for far too long.  I am looking forward to living out of a suitcase for a while... enjoying the sunshine and a coffee or three. (Oh - and finding a care home for my dad. Oh - and finding a job for me.)

Night on the Town

Put your hands together for.... drum roll please... dad's first day out of the hospital in 5 1/2 weeks!  Fresh air (and at the end of October, is that air ever fresh!), change of scenery, and no hospital food!  Where was the big night out!?  None other than White Spot!  (We used a wheelchair taxi without a spot of trouble.)  Whilst we were there, family showed up, and then some friends... so it was a regular party all around.  Dad was alert and engaged for the most part.  A relief to see, particularily after those weeks of watching and wondering if he was going to make it.

I should have had dad in a wheelchair ages ago so I can keep an eye on him... certainly not worried about him tripping as we walk down the street!!  Now the worry is me dumping him.  I actually have no issues manhandling him in the chair... the issues are the lips on door sills and curbs.  Yeah... they "say" they are wheelchair friendly.  The slightest rise brings a 160-odd-pound wheelchair to a screeching halt.  You try lifting the front end over one of those rises.  Totally dangerous... definitely needs to be reviewed by some code or other.

Anyway, back to my story... It was cute... I asked dad what he wanted to eat... was it going to be a Triple 'O' burger?  He said, "A man gets to pick his own meal for the first time in six months, he shouldn't go for the same old..."

That got a smile out of me!  I proceeded to ask him what else he would like... meatloaf, chicken stir fry, tortellini?  Ha!  This is what they have been serving up at the hospital and the nurses have noticed in the past few days he has not been eating very much.  Can you blame him!?  The way he ate his prawns tonight (next best thing to steak - which was not on the menu) ... there is nothing wrong with his appetite.

I do have to say... I am feeling a bit guilty about the upcoming switch from hospital food to airline food.  At least with the latter, he will have a fellow commiserator! 

Not to be all pompous, and stttuuuuufff... but witnessing dad, and the older people on his floor, struggle with their day-to-day activities, loss of privacy and independance, and stuck eating uninspired food day in and day out... really makes me want to appreciate the simple things in life... that I can run up the five flights of stairs to dad's floor (they need to replace the guy in the basement who operates the elevator hoist... he's falling asleep on the job!).  That I can make my own food choices... and they had better be healthy ones... I want to stay out of that hospital as long as I can!

(I have written this blog late at night while continuing to procrastinate about filling out the inventory papers.  I realize it's a bit disjointed and I apologize for that.  I may or may not get back to edit it.  For now, I hope you get the gist of it.)

Taking Care of Business

Think of all the things you need to do in a day/a week as life management... grocery shop, make meals, ensure home is clean, clothes are clean/pressed/mended, banking/investing/paying bills, paying taxes, driving yourself to work/school/errands.  Now imagine you cannot do any of those things for yourself due to age, illness, injury.  Who is going to do those things for you?

Little did I know what I was signing when dad asked mom and I to go the Notary Public with him to sign papers for Power of Attorney.  It was a bright spring afternoon, and I can see my former carefree self meeting my parents at the Notary Public to sign the papers, and then skipping on with the rest of my day. I definitely did not consider the ramifications of signing those papers. (Not that I wouldn't - being the eldest, responsibility was drummed in from an early age.) I definitely did not foresee mom passing away and leaving me in the sole role of POA. That dads condition would deteriorate so quickly, leaving him in my full time care.

Which is precisely what happened. Dad swiftly turned into a full time job. When a family member is ill... they become top priority. Everything else takes second place. You find yourself trying to squeeze in time for yourself around the obligations. When I say 'time for yourself', I'm not talking about an afternoon at the spa or a day shopping - I'm talking about your career, continuing education, your own visits to a doctor or dentist (as if you want to go back to another doctors office), grocery shopping, making meals, the rest of your chores, time for friends...

One minute you are reminding your parent to pay their bills; the next, you know... you are managing two households.  Forget an afternoon at the spa... I think I need a month at Canyon Ranch just to recover!

Many people have written up a will, in event of their death... but how many have written up Power of Attorney (someone to represent you and act in your best interest legally) and Representation Agreement (someone to represent you and act in your best interest medically)?  Sometimes the unthinkable happens, and you live.  No one can predict the future and you cannot prepare for every eventuality.  (Though believe me, I wake up every night trying!) Just prepare for the worst and hope for the best.  Have faith and trust that the person you have appointed will do their best in your worst.  And no, I am not for hire.  I am busting off to a beach in the South Seas... Power of Attorney has to have some perks!

Can't Shake This Feeling

Monday, October 24, 2011

I walked in the door a short time ago from a busy day working on all the details that are involved with an international move times two.  I feel sad and cannot shake the feeling.  Slowly, I am recalling a conversation I had with someone at the hospital this afternoon.  We were discussing how to transport/transfer dad from hospital to airport to airplane.  I asked her if she thought dad might be able to walk on his own again.  She paused before saying, "It's hard to say.  The wheelchair is probably the safest place for him.  The pill mix up in the beginning really set him back."

You may recall the post about the continual pill mess up in the Sinemet dosage as described in More Disappointment.  Where I had to tell the hospital three times about the correct Sinemet dose and time until they got it straightened out.  And how dad went from sitting up eating his dinner on the first two nights after he had been admitted, to being bedridden for days on end because he was receiving the Sinemet dose three times a day, instead of four.  How they gave him quick release Sinemet instead of slow release Sinemet.

I had taken care of dad for three years and we managed fairly well.  Now the hospital undid in three days what I had worked on so hard for for three years... that the Sinemet be on time, every time.  I hired nursing support to come in and assist dad once he started to struggle with it on his own.  I have the right to be sad over everything dad has had to put up with in that hospital.  I cannot wait to get him out of there... only one week to go.

On that front, he is improving with each day.  In chatting with him today, he commented that he had really wanted to go shopping for some new clothes.  (Shopping... did someone say shopping!?)  I told him he did have some new clothes... I had ordered a few things a while ago.  I was saving them for him at home so he wouldn't have them ruined in the hospital.  I told him I have his outfit ready and waiting to go at his place... it may not be the suit he first travelled in when he left Australia... but it is clean and it matches!  His clothes are probably a bit too big... but that cannot be helped for now.  We will have to do some more shopping in Sydney.  There is far too much going on now to be messing around, shopping for clothes.  (Shopping for the elderly holds none of the joy that it does for oneself.)   I also asked him if he wanted me to pack his Aussie hat, to which he replied a hearty, "Yes!"

The Summons

Friday, October 21, 2011

Being summoned to the doctor's office is not unlike being summoned to the principal's office.  I was told at the hospital that dad's doctor wanted to talk to me.  Uh oh.  I booked the appointment for the visit, and then proceeded to worry for days on end.  (Of course.)  Waiting in the waiting room only made matters worse... now there was additional time to sit and really think, and worry and panic some more.   By the time I was taken into the doctor's office, I was in a right state of worry.  But I got to sit there and worry and panic some more.  By the time the doctor walked in, I was pacing the floors and trying not to tidy up his office!

My worry and panic were in vain.  The doctor and I are dad's biggest advocates.  (I secretly knew that, and tried to reassure myself in that regard, but the negative overtook the positive as usual.)  We want what is best for dad, and we both see the whole picture... not just what is happening at the hospital.  Dad is fine to travel... meat pies, here we come!

Mystery Meat

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Running errands all afternoon, I did not make it to the hospital till 5.30.  A quick peak into dad's room... and no dad!  Quickly found him eating dinner at the nurse's station... whew!  "I brought him up here to eat dinner with me," she told me.  A cute, blond nurse; I am sure dad didn't mind! 

I went to sit down beside him and he mentioned something about a Nanaimo bar.  A quick glance over his tray revealed all the dishes full, save for one empty side plate.  "Dad, did you eat your dessert first?"

Slight grin.

"Dad... you're meant to eat your meal first, then dessert."  Bossy boots here...

Stare.

"What have you got there."  I did a double take.  What DID he have there!?  Orange meatloaf pounded out flat and titled "Pork with BBQ sauce" on the menu.  If you think that description sounds gross... you weren't the one eating it.  What is the deal with hospital food?  Come on people!  These patients are sick.  Probably for most, their only pleasure in life is eating.  Do they have to take that away too!?  It is not hard to get food right!  I just do not get it.  Can't they run a hospital like a high end hotel?  People would feel better, sooner, get out of there quicker and ease our burdened medical system!  IMHO.  I digress.

"Come on dad, you've got to get some food into you, get stronger."  I pleaded.

Hrumpf.

"Well, take a few bites."  I managed to get three bites into him and then his mouth was shut tight.  I didn't  blame him.  It was pretty gross.  I have left some healthy snacks on his bedside table for this very reason.

I could not get over the difference in him today than yesterday.  He was so much more alert.  Asking me questions, wanting to go home.  Not understanding why he's still in there.  And why he can't go home.  (Um, cuz your house is empty and it's listed for sale!)  FYI... I have kept him abreast of all the details... but that silly short term memory - he just does not remember.  (For example... someone visited him yesterday afternoon.  The nuse told me, but he cannot for the life of him remember who it was.  So if we have forgotten to say thank you to some of you for visiting, it's not that we don't care, it's that we've, well... forgotten!)

All up... a good day.  But always, there in the back of my mind, is that risk of falling and breaking something.  Dad does not know why he just can't get up and go for a walk.  He thinks he is being kept in the wheelchair for something to do!  Legs are getting stronger though... he is pulling himself by foot down the hall in the wheelchair.  Determined he is... and wonders why his daughter is so pig-headed!?

Inspirational Choke

Hard to believe... when I started working, there was no Internet, no email, no texting and certainly no Facebook!  Everything came through on fax.  On thermal paper.  (There's a whole section of history lost because of the fading properties of thermal paper!)  Jokes, spam, personal letters, all came through on the ole fax machine.  I had a fax of this cartoon pinned to the wall over my desk for a long time.  (I had to find this copy online, as the copy I had disappeared!)

I won't lie... I was most discouraged this morning (with the events of the previous day) and was ready to pack it all in.  "What's the point in all this?" I asked myself.  Then I received a timely, encouraging and supportive email (thank you... I think you know who you are!)  ... and I remembered this funny cartoon, and it's somehow given me the boost I needed to keep moving forward.

Don't ever, EVER give up.

More Moaning

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Another night of worrying and fretting. Which is frustrating as yesterday itself was the most normal feeling day in a long time. I stopped by the hospital around 6pm, and the first thing the nurse said to me was that dad fell the previous night. He had woken up at 2am and bailed out of bed. The bed alarm had gone off, but the nurse was helping someone else and couldn't get to him in time. (Again, no injuries.) Why was I finding out about it at 6pm... 14 hours after the fact?  I guess it has become so common place that there's no need to call and let me know.

I do realize that we are fortunate in Canada to not have to worry about medical bills... of all my worries, that is not one of them. Though I cannot help but feel that you get what you pay for. There has been no continuity of care. That was evident in the pill mix up. I have found myself explaining our situation over and over ... and that dad cannot fall, please ensure that he doesn't.  No, our medical system is not perfect by any means, but at least we have something.  I suppose.

When I arrived there last night, they were putting him to bed at 6pm. Huh? No wonder he is waking up wide awake at 2 am... he has had 8 hours of sleep and ready to get on with the day.

I have not been introduced to the social worker on this floor. After the social worker on the 4th floor reassured me there would be progress meetings with all the staff etc when I met up with her three weeks ago. I saw her once. I have not laid eyes on the social worker on the 5th floor. I have so many questions. As in... what do we do if he can't leave on the 31st (etc)! I cannot postpone my life any longer. I have given notice on my place, my bags are (mostly) packed... I am ready to go. If we have to change plans again, I hardly have any time left to shuffle things around. Again.  I guess we're still at 'taking things a day at a time'. I'm getting pro at that, if nothing else.

3pm update...

Spoke with dad's OT this afternoon and she said dad is doing really well... he is walking with one hand assistance.  I would not know any of this if I did not ask, as every time I visit, he has been sound asleep.  4pm on Sunday, 6pm on Monday and 1.30pm on Tuesday.  I have asked the nurse to keep him awake tonight till at least 9pm... try to get him back into a regular sleep schedule.  At this rate, he can babysit for all my friend's children, as that is the other segement of the population who sleep and day and play all night!

Congratulations

Saturday, October 15, 2011

There is no hiding it any longer... I am getting married!! I have to organize the wedding and reception. I'm marrying an Italian whom I met on the doorstep!!

Ah dad... I shouldn't tell stories on him... but today's story had me entertained!  'Congratulations,' was the first thing dad said to me when I went in to see him. When I asked why, he told me the story of me getting married. When I laughed and said it wasn't true... he told me he couldn't hide it from him any longer, the jig was up!!  I asked whom I was marrying and that's when he told me about the Italian. (Things are looking up!)

Since he has been in hospital, they have had to give him two round of antibiotics.  I only found out about it for the second round... which explains the extreme hallucinating he had been having the week prior.  I recall commenting that that kind of hallucinating was abnormal for him, that something was up.  (Usually I can talk to him about it, and he realizes he is seeing things... and sometimes makes a joke about it.)  I only wish I had known about the antibiotics from the beginning... but it would not be the first time the hospital has not communicated with me.  I am now aware of the second round, and the hallucinating and confusion is back.  It is so obviously related to the medications... the joy of mixing Parkinson's meds with antibiotics. 

Can only hope that the antibiotics work this time... guess the hallucinating is the lesser of the two evils at this point.  Tomorrow I will have to speak to the nursing staff about building up the healthy bacteria in his stomach.  Being in a hospital, and then an airplane... those are both breeding grounds for all kinds of germs. 

Lovely places for germaphobics such as myself.  My hands are raw from the double-dose of antiseptic cleanser and soap and water.  The signs in the hospital don't help... an upside down fist with the pointer finger pointing to an elevator button: 1249 people have touched this button.  Or pointing to a door knob: 5499 people have touched this door.  "Stop the spread.  Wash your hands."  Stop the spread... get out of the hospital!!

A Boring Update

This is a bit of a dull update... but we'll take dull!  It is a beautiful autumn day here on the West Coast.  Trees are marking the passage of time... the ones that line the street in dad's sight line from his room were green with red tops a couple of weeks ago, and now they are fully red.  Dad has changed from writhing around in his bed in agony (and me; a basket case), to sitting up in his chair today, having somewhat of a conversation with me. Sunday will mark 4 weeks in the hospital. It doesn't feel that long, despite all the happenings. 

Had a long talk with the OT today about preparing for the 15 hour flight, YVR to SYD.  In some ways, it feels daunting, all the things to consider, and pack!  Medication for Parkinson's and sleeping, snacks, cleaning supplies, along with the rest of the typical carry on items.  We are preparing for every eventuality... and in doing so, I think we just might be alright.  People have commented that it's a long flight... and this is true!  However, I would prefer a 15 hour flight to Sydney rather than the 22 hour car ride from BC to Saskatchewan!!  It is all in what you are used to.  (At least it isn't the 13 hour flight to Hong Kong, 4 hour stopover and 9 hours to Sydney... now that is a long journey!)

Definitely in a better head space today than yesterday... must have something to do with that sun.  Good thing we are headed to the land of sunshine (and meat pies, Cherry Ripes, endless beaches, Sydney Ferries, fabulous coffee, amazing restaurants... and something else too... oh yes... family!)

Hospital Burnout

Thursday, October 13, 2011

In attempting to put a finger on the reason for my funk today... I realized I have hospital burnout.  I am so tired of that place; it's smell, it's boring hallways, it's lack of stimulation.  Iam tired of constantly calculating how much change is in my wallet to plug the meter, and worrying the entire time I'm with dad that my parking hasn't run out and that I have got a ticket.  Parking fees wait for no man.  If I am bored of with all of it, imagine how dad feels!  I miss his old roommate... who was a retired police officer... and in overhearing conversations with dad, sought to reassure me that dad was improving day by day.   There is now a new roommate, and his family seems too focused on his recovery to even say "Hello" to us.  Which is ok... I am tired of meeting new people!  I can no longer remember the names of nurses, OTs, physios, doctor's and social workers.  I think I have met the same two nurses twice.  They rotate so often, I cannot keep them straight.  They cannot keep us straight!  I am still explaining that "We are moving to Australia, so it's imperative that dad not fall again.  We need to be on a plane out of here in two and a half weeks.  Can you have him up and walking by then?"  Thanks.

Walking in to his room this evening, I found him asleep over his empty dinner dishes.  (Poor dad must have hospital food burnout.)  My only thought was, "I want to get you out of here."  Hospitals really are cruel places to be... you go in with one big problem that needs to be fixed, and end up with half a dozen smaller issues.  In this ward, all the rooms are shared, so everyone is sharing tiny quarters with strangers privy to the most intimate of details.  After a while, it gets to you.  I'm starting to think we have overstayed our welcome!

I warned you I was in a funk.  I have fingers and toes crossed that dad can soon move out of this ward and into some respite for some rest and privacy before the next adventure.

Thanks Giving

2011 is right up there with worst years in my life; right alongside 2009. (Many predict 2012 will hold cataclysmic events. I just hold out hope that it will be a better year...) Today is Canadian Thanksgiving; where we sit down with family and friends around a meal of turkey, ham, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, Brussels sprouts, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, and reflect on all that we are thankful for. Despite this being a rough year, there is much to be thankful for.

I have an amazing circle of friends. I am thankful for them every day, even though I probably don't voice those thoughts as often as I should. Anne of Green Gables often spoke of it, and I am spoiled to have 'kindred spirits' in abundance. I have friends who have opened their hearts to me... have shared meals, confidences, a place to sleep (when I'm out of town... I'm not homeless, yet!), care packages, a shoulder to cry on, comic relief, phone calls/text messages/emails/Facebook messages of care and concern. For this I am thankful.

We are also thankful for phone calls/text messages/emails/Facebook messages of care and concern for dad. Thank you to everyone who has gone to visit him; at home and at the hospital. For remembering him; for gifts of time, treats, meals, thoughts and care. Through such a trying experience, our friends have made the world a brighter place.

I best let this be all for now. Now if you'll excuse me, there's a turkey with my name on it.

Thank you... Donna... and Norman

Copy & Paste

--> Go to Tuesday, October 4, 2011
--> Left click and highlight applicable text
--> Right click and copy
--> Go to New Post
--> Right click and paste

"Hello?"

"Hello. It's the hospital calling. Your dad had a fall this morning, just before lunch. He's ok, apart from a skinned elbow. Sorry to be calling you now (4.30), but we've been busy all afternoon."

"Sorry? What? Can you please repeat that?!"

You would be forgiven for thinking that I had merely copied Tuesday's blog post just to flesh out this blog post. However, I copied and pasted as I couldn't be bothered to retype it.

Yes, I had a repeat phone call from Tuesday. This time I was in the middle of Walmart. (Busted! It was my first visit in about 8 months, and I was shopping for specific ingredients for a bread pudding.) Dad fell again, this time getting out of bed. He is definitely getting stronger; standing on his own, and going for walks with a walker. He's just not strong enough yet to walk around on his own. Turns out, a care aid had forgotten to turn on his bed alarm... which alerts the nurses at the nursing station every time he tries to escape. At least he was wearing his hospital regulation hip protectors. This time he ended up with a skinned right elbow to match the skinned left elbow from Tuesday.

Time for (another) daughter-father chat. Showed him the red button to push for nursing assistance; under no circumstances is he to get out of bed without assistance. If he falls and breaks something... he'll be in bed a lot longer recovering than this short period of time now. I told him I do not want any more calls from the hospital, as it kind of ruins my day, and I have enough going on. Capice? Capice.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

I vaguely recall a time Saturday's were fun... lounge around and read the paper, do a spot of shopping, maybe go for a walk or ride a bike. (Ok... maybe they were a little dull, but that sounds like a good time in comparison!) Saturday's have been days of chores and clearing out stuff for who knows how long. Again... how is it taking me this long? How much stuff is there? To be fair, dad and mom moved from a 3600 sq. ft house to a 1300 sq ft. condo, and now dad will be moving into one room. (I'm assuming, unless we find some swanky high care accommodation.) All those household items have to be moved and distributed somehow. I'm now in the final push to empty the house, and I have to say this is the worst bit. Months and months of making decisions as to what goes where. Now I'm left with a couple of boxes of things and I'm tempted just to toss the lot in the dumpster. Though there are few useful items in there... so I'll get to them... tomorrow.

On the way home, I had the thought that I am looking forward to living out of a suitcase for a while. That way, I can focus on some other aspects of life for a while, instead of stuff, and the distribution of it: charity bin, thrift store, family, friends, moving boxes, dumpster... As I was mulling this thought over, I stepped into my own home, piled high with boxes and items strewn across the floor. One house down, one to go...

Hip Protectors

'Have you considered hip protectors for your dad?'

'Come again?'

'Hip protectors.' The Occupational Therapist proceeded to show me a pair of putty colored pants with foam saucers inserted in the fabric in the general area of the hips. I have heard of hip waders... but these are another sport entirely. She went on to say, 'The hip protectors protect the hips in a fall, because you don't want your dad to break a hip.'

Apparently dad has been very lucky that he has escaped hip injury in his falls. It is a major concern with the elderly ... this sport of breaking hips. I wanted to say that dad doesn't break hips. He breaks ribs, wrists and vertebrae quite well, thank you very much. (He's broken wrists and ribs ever since he was a young boy and replaced his bike handle bars with a steering wheel. The story involved a dog darting in front on the bike, an unmovable steering wheel and a fence, over which all three objects went sailing...)

Breaking hips. Really? Something else to worry about? And you know when i worry about something, it sometimes comes to pass!! We have a plane to board in 3.5 weeks. There had better not be any breaking of the hips in the meantime.

Back to putty colored hip protector pants... there's a huge, untapped market for seniors clothing. What's on offer is appalling. Take for example, the color options for the pant version of the hip protectors: Gray, Navy Blue, Putty and Camouflage. Those colors have never been on trend! Seniors haven't been seniors all their lives... why should they be left to dress in the most hideous of fabrics and colors in their golden years? Dad cut a dashing figure in a suit in his youth... and now his only option are Silly Putty pants in an awful polyester? With a shirt with Velcro closures? (We haven't gone there yet... I put my foot down! I told him if he's to hang out with me, he has to be presentable!) There's a huge, growing market for comfortable, easy, stylish, functional clothes for seniors and those with disabilities. Look for my spring 2012 collection, coming soon!

(Should you be curious as to what hip protectors are, click here for the link. Warning... they're very tempting!)

Sharp Inhale

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Spoke too soon. I didn't even get 24 hours of steady breathing before the next panic. My coat was on, keys were in hand, and I was about to run out the door Tuesday afternoon, when the phone rang. I won't lie, my heart skipped a beat. (It usually skips a beat these days when the phone rings.) I've had a sixth sense that the hospital would be calling me, you could say I've been waiting for the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello. It's the hospital calling. Your dad had a fall this morning, just before lunch. He's ok, apart from a skinned elbow. Sorry to be calling you now (4.30), but we've been busy all afternoon."

"Sorry? What? Can you please repeat that?!"

It turns out that he was left unattended. His nurse was trying to deal with other patients, and he promised her that he would behave while she left him. Not exactly sure what he did, but sounds like he tried to move on his own. What!? This is the same man that two days prior, I could see him trying to get out of his chair. I was worried he would fall flat on his face in doing so as his muscles are still weak. So I left him at the nursing station for the nurse to watch over him after I left. Two days later he's left unattended, out of his bed, out of his wheelchair? Again, words fail me.

In speaking with the nurse there (there's a new one every day, I've only seen one of them twice), she claimed that they didn't know he had a history of falling. I said, "Parkinson's - fall risk." It is written all over his charts at home. How do they keep missing these things?

They promise to be super vigilant from now on; harnessing him, adding an alarm to his wheelchair, not leaving him unattended. I don't know what to think. He has a swallowing issue with Parkinson's, and cannot eat certain foods. I think I will need to take that assessment form in as well. I'm trying to think of what else they're going to mess up on. Next thing I know... they'll be feeding him popcorn.

When I went in to see him last night, he was sitting up, eating his dinner and looking like he didn't have a care in the world! Why would he when I'm carrying enough stress for five people!! I will be walking on eggshells until our departure date.

A Sigh of Relief

Monday, October 3, 2011

Standing at the sink washing dishes, I realized something was wrong. There was no panic in the pit of my stomach. My hands were steady. My breath was even. Could it be? Is this what 'normal' feels like? It has been so long, I have forgotten. Every night at 8pm for the past two years(at least), I had to call dad for his 8pm pill. Nine times out of ten I had to call twice to reach him on the phone, explain where the pill was, tell him to take it with water, explain the 1/2 bedtime dose. Pure frustration.

With him in the hospital, I've not had to do the pill reminders (other than whipping the staff into shape to get the pills on schedule)... but I have had the worry of him recovering... is he going to recover? Is everything going to be ok? That worry replaced the 8 pm pill worry in the pit of my stomach.

Until today. Today has been the first day I have been able to exhale. Today he was sitting up, mind clear... even asked me what I had been up to that afternoon, and thanked me for coming in to see him. In speaking with his nurse, he said that dad had had a good day. He had been up all day, ate and drank well, shifted from a two person transfer to one person transfer from bed to chair. (Big steps!) A few more days in a row like this, please!

In a side note; I had been reading further in October 2011 Vogue, about Arianna Huffington, co-founder of Huffington Post. This is a woman who knows all about juggling many activities and responsibilities. She states that women have a responsibility to correct the way things are run. Her slogan is, "Unplug, recharge, sleep." We have so much going on in our lives, we are connected all the time, and there is an expectation to be connected all the time. With so much going on, all the more reason to take a break, step back and hear yourself think. I have found this slogan to be beneficial in these past weeks in dealing with all that dad has thrown at me. I have needed to unplug, recharge and sleep. The days following that action have definitely been easier to manage than the days where I don't give myself a break. On that note, I think I need to follow through on my words, and disconnect... good night!

Click here for the October 2011 Vogue article on Arianna Huffington...

Good Days, Bad Days

Sunday, October 2, 2011

I cannot believe dad has been in the hospital for two weeks already! It has gone by in a complete blur. I can barely remember that first week, driving to the hospital in daze, worried by what I would find when I rounded the corner into his room.

When I consider that week, things are definitely improving. Visiting dad on Sunday, he was sitting up in his wheelchair, ready to get back on his feet...

I hesitate to write about dad's confusion/dementia, as I want to retain some of his privacy. I guess I don't need to share all the details... just enough to explain it.

As mentioned, the nurses got him sitting up in a wheelchair, and tied him in with a seatbelt. (Being in bed so long, his legs are weak, so he isn't walking yet, though he is standing on his own. So he needs a seat belt while sitting up... so he does not get up and do a nose dive... no more of those, thanks!) He became increasingly aggitated as I sat with him. I watched him inspect the brakes on the wheels of the wheelchair, trying to figure out how to release them. He was gripping the arm rests and trying to stand up. I tried to get him to rest in the chair, but he got angry with me. I was worried he would figure out how to release the button on the seatbelt, then try to stand up!!

I expressed my concerns with the nurse just before I left. The nurse also noticed his actions and said he was 'restless'. They moved him up to the nurses station so they could keep an eye on him. I know tomorrow is another day, and he might come around. But it was distressing to leave him there in that condition.

Afterwards, I was thinking about the times in the past where he has been like this. He becomes overly fixated on something and I can't talk him out of it. When I try, he gets very frustrated with me, almost belligerent. I'm not a medical professional by any stretch, but it seems to be linked with low blood sugar, or low electrolytes. While I was there, his tummy was rumbling like he was hungry. This despite the fact that I'd taken him a slice of chocolate cake and sauce for an afternoon treat. I wish I had given him something else to eat, and more water.

This is why there are good days and bad days. When the medication/food stars line up, we can have a good day and I can talk to dad like it's the old days. (Kind of... short term memory loss does make communication awkward.) When the medication is off, and his blood sugar dips, we are in for trouble as you can see above. Can only learn from the previous errors, and try to build on that. Moral of this story is.... I will discuss my concerns with the nurses and make sure he is getting snacks between meals to keep his blood sugar up.