Heartbreaking
Well, that was fast. Over the past three months, conversation topics with Mom have shrunk from 6 to 3 or 4. And now she is in a memory care facility. When she wandered, she wanted to go home. Her concept of home has changed, she is not even quite sure what it means. She is agitated, she wants to go home and can't get there, even when she was living there.
The hardest of all this for me right now is that she is not all that happy, hasn't been for a few weeks when her brain told her she wasn't home. She has been packing, even before she knew we were moving her. She's not crocheting. The staff at her new home is doing everything possible to help her. They are phenomenal - highly trained in dementia care and the facility has tons of natural light and is very inviting. We have been blessed to find this place. Mind you, Medicare won't cover a dime of her stay there. Medicare doesn't cover facilities that only cover memory care. Doesn't matter how much money Mom has put into Medicare over the past 40 years.
Yep, it's easier for me to be furious than sad. No doubt grieving is a daily part of caregiving for someone with dementia. I don't believe this disease should be called 'The Long Goodbye'. It's more like 'Many Goodbyes, Many Hellos and Some Shocking Surprises That You Never Wanted to Discover'.
Please forgive this rant as my brain feels as jumbled as Mom's - and her house. Voyageur and I spent some time cleaning out Mom's house. Beyond craziness. Cupboards stuffed with salad dressing, mixed in with crochet patterns, recipes, empty toothpaste tubes, empty moisturizer bottles, a set of her dentures. And then there's her writings, scribblings in notepads strewn throughout the house. She was writing down what she saw on TV shows, commercials. Paula Abdul and RSD, the phone number for Medicare and that she needed to change her coverage (yep, she did that and Voyageur had to fix it). And our phone numbers and other family members numbers written down dozens of times, afixed on mirrors, in address books, on the fridge, in notebooks.
And then there were a variety of items that Mom tacked on to the walls. The downstairs bathroom had some wallpaper attached. And what Mom is experiencing is not unique. Voyageur and I write about our experiences so other folks caregiving for people with dementia know they are not alone. This disease is devastating and heartbreaking. And massive stigma attached (another future blog post). I hope Mom will soon feel like she is home. Music always brings me home - especially Carole King.
Over to you Voyageur.
The hardest of all this for me right now is that she is not all that happy, hasn't been for a few weeks when her brain told her she wasn't home. She has been packing, even before she knew we were moving her. She's not crocheting. The staff at her new home is doing everything possible to help her. They are phenomenal - highly trained in dementia care and the facility has tons of natural light and is very inviting. We have been blessed to find this place. Mind you, Medicare won't cover a dime of her stay there. Medicare doesn't cover facilities that only cover memory care. Doesn't matter how much money Mom has put into Medicare over the past 40 years.
Yep, it's easier for me to be furious than sad. No doubt grieving is a daily part of caregiving for someone with dementia. I don't believe this disease should be called 'The Long Goodbye'. It's more like 'Many Goodbyes, Many Hellos and Some Shocking Surprises That You Never Wanted to Discover'.
Please forgive this rant as my brain feels as jumbled as Mom's - and her house. Voyageur and I spent some time cleaning out Mom's house. Beyond craziness. Cupboards stuffed with salad dressing, mixed in with crochet patterns, recipes, empty toothpaste tubes, empty moisturizer bottles, a set of her dentures. And then there's her writings, scribblings in notepads strewn throughout the house. She was writing down what she saw on TV shows, commercials. Paula Abdul and RSD, the phone number for Medicare and that she needed to change her coverage (yep, she did that and Voyageur had to fix it). And our phone numbers and other family members numbers written down dozens of times, afixed on mirrors, in address books, on the fridge, in notebooks.And then there were a variety of items that Mom tacked on to the walls. The downstairs bathroom had some wallpaper attached. And what Mom is experiencing is not unique. Voyageur and I write about our experiences so other folks caregiving for people with dementia know they are not alone. This disease is devastating and heartbreaking. And massive stigma attached (another future blog post). I hope Mom will soon feel like she is home. Music always brings me home - especially Carole King.
Over to you Voyageur.