Jump ahead eight long years. My Dad lived until 2017, thanks to a lot of intervention and support by his whole family. It was heartbreaking to watch his world shrink, but he had an indomitable will to live, and live he did!
Rereading this blog has brought back so many memories for me. There is just so little I can say to help others going through the same thing. I can only think of three things that really matter:
1. Don't try to do it from a distance. Often, we have no choice, but it sucks big time to try to emotionally support your parent that is 2,000 miles away. You can never fully relax.
2. Do write up a list of symptoms early on, and keep the list. That list was helpful in many ways. I actually got the IRS to reverse years of unpaid penalties for late filings, thanks to my list and copies of doctor's reports. Once you pay a penalty, though, the IRS will keep it.
3. If (when) your parent breaks a bone and is sent to a rehab center, aka skilled nursing, be aware that many people die there. My Dad's good friend died 6 weeks before he broke his hip. She fell out of her bed and landed on her face. My Dad's (un)skilled nurses insisted that they couldn't put up bed rails because of state laws. After much discussion back and forth (never give up, just wear them down politely), they mentioned that they could put his bed on the floor. Hey, what a great idea! They also agreed to put a seat belt on his wheelchair and slide the release mechanism to the back. This, after I was talking to him on the phone and he tried to get up out of his wheelchair because he forgot he had a broken hip. I heard the fall and scream. Had I not, well, who knows.
Oh and maybe one more thing:
4. When you get a call from skilled nursing that your parent has ESCAPED, don't panic. It means he is ready to leave. Nurse told me he was hallucinating and waiting for a trolley, and they couldn't find his seatbelt. Um, there IS a trolley that drives by every half hour.
By the way, Dad, what happened to your seatbelt? "I hid it under the bed." Released the next morning.
Wednesday, August 29, 2018
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