Holidays Over Too Soon Monday, Jan 10 2011 

Yes, I said it.  The holiday season just raced by and I wasn’t ready for it to leave.  I am still not.  It is not about the gifts or the shopping.  It is the lights and special treats.  We finally took down the outside lights this weekend, but that is just because the weather is suppose to really turn bad this week. Until they came down, they were lit each night.  I liked pulling up in front of the house each nigh after work (in the dark, BTW) and seeing the lights on. The inside decorations are still up, and we are still enjoying to sparkle of the tree. When the grandson comes over the first thing he does is ‘click’ to turn them on, if they happen not to be on.  The season is just too short.  I promise to have the tree down by Valentine’s day. 🙂

Giving a Little Thursday, Dec 16 2010 

Cookies.  Sounds simple.  When the lady from the retirement home (that’s the politically correct name for it these days right?) called and asked if we’d be willing to bake cookies again for the holiday party, we said yes.  Last year, we baked cookies for the Christmas party they have each year.  This year we did Thanksgiving  and now again Christmas.  Chocolate chip and peanut butter, regular and sugarless. Non-sugar?  What’s the correct term?  Anyway, spent last night baking endless cookies, dozens and dozens and we are not done yet.  Did you know that you can buy sugar-free brown sugar?  Well you can.  It’s costly,  just as the sugar-free sugar is more costly, but we do not need to make as many sugar free (that’s the term!) cookies as regular.  We have a killer chocolate chip cookie recipe.  Hope we still feel like making some for the holidays after all this baking.  But it feels good to help someone else out.  Give back a little.

Santa and the 3 year old Tuesday, Dec 14 2010 

HA! What a difference a year makes!  When Santa arrived at the park, I figured we would need to work up sitting on his lap.  After all the excitement of the arrival and Santa calling out Little Man’s name as he went by (pretty awesome!), I scooped Little Man up and asked him if he wanted to tell Santa what he wanted for Christmas and he said yes. So we made our way to the pavilion and I set Little Man back on his feet so he could see the other kids and Santa.  I was ready for the coaching session.  But it was all for naught. He was more than ready and I actually had to hold him back from racing into the pictures being taken of the child on Santa’s lap at that moment.  But Little Man made his turn next and he climbed on up, smiled and enjoyed the pictures and attention.  When Santa asked him what he wanted he clearly said ‘park’ and hopped down.  Stinker.

Feeling Guilty Tuesday, Dec 14 2010 

A very good friend of mine lost his father last week.  It was not unexpected, as his father had been suffering from ongoing, worsening complications of  a stroke.  His decline was at least two years in the making. But regardless, it doesn’t necessarily make his passing any easier, and certainly not when the public goodbye is a spectacle for the ‘current’ wife, that fails to recognize his father had a life before her.  Including two grown children. Such a shame. I feel for my friend and his family.

And I feel guilty, as I am struggling with my parents.  The death of my friend’s father brings home how lucky I am that both of my parents are still here. They are showing signs of failing physical and mental health, but still here.  I am happy they are still around.  I say that up front.  I am, however, struggling with their increasing needs of me and what I see coming in the future.  I’ve been down this path before.  I know the signs and I know where the path leads.  I kid myself that I am in denial, but I am.  Each time I talk with Mom, and she is confused, has forgotten something or some other issue arises, I feel sick to my stomach, and may even have a small panic attack.  Her ‘forgetfulness’ is so much like my MIL, which if you’ve read any of my postings, you know about.  And I ask myself how can I do this again?  And somewhat selfishly, why do I have to do this again?    I feel guilty for even thinking it. But I do.  Think it.

Thanksgiving 2010 Thursday, Nov 25 2010 

I have so many things to be thankful for and yet as I sit here I am not feeling very thankful.  Sad but true. Sometimes, while understanding the importance of the big picture, the little picture gets in the way.  And when that happens, it’s a little harder to let the big picture have its day.

We are a product of our upbringing whether we want to admit it or not.  Sometimes the result is to do things as our parents or those that influenced us did them, and sometimes it is to do the opposite. The influence doesn’t stop when we reach adulthood.  Whether good or bad, it continues to mold.

For me the holidays have always been a struggle.  My family didn’t do many big gatherings with relatives for several reasons, all legitimate.  My mother, during my growing up years, was an only child.  (The story of having siblings found later in life is too long for here.)  And for most of my life, we lived states away from her parents.  If we had any, I do not recall holidays at all with my mother’s family.  We also did not normally live close to Dad’s side.  I recall a Thanksgivings spent at Grandma and Grandpa’s if we happened to be living close enough to drive in.  Strangely enough, I do not recall these events pleasantly.  It seems that drama always ensued.

So all this information is to say that I recall most of my growing up years to be Thanksgiving with my parents and brothers.  How factual this information really is, I cannot be certain. I just know that big, nice, warm Thanksgivings with football in the backyard, and cups of cider aren’t what pop into my head.

After marrying, the view changed.  His family is larger and much more involved in our lives.  My family faded out.   Since my marriage, my parents have not hosted one family event at their home.  If we get together, and that’s a big if, it is my home or at one of my two brother’s homes.  Travel is not an issue since we live in the same area, so it’s about arriving to eat, light conversation and going home.   Each year as the holiday approaches, I feel anxiety build.

We’ve hosted many a day, with one side or the other.  Last year we hosted my family, in another attempt to bring some closeness into us, but it was a disaster due to my father and his never-ending talking.  No one could get a word in and some of the topics were out of line.  People fled the second dinner was over.  After years of trying to keep things afloat, I decided to let it go.  I’ve always wanted a Thanksgiving that was my children and their families coming home to us.  Without drama.

My youngest son could not be with us and missed Thanksgiving entirely last year.  I wanted this year to be the make up year and have a nice day with him and my older son’s family.  The plans were made, menu etc.  But, alas, I did not count on my daughter in law.

New to our family, but never one to consider any feeling but her own, my son, my D-I-L and my only grandchild will not be coming here for the day.  Her immediate family is not gathering, with one of her sister’s going to her in-laws, but my D-I-L likes the stuffing her Aunt makes, so they are going to that Aunts house for the day.

So my request for a gathering was ……ignored?…disregarded?….I am not sure of the correct word.  My son,  what can I say, didn’t want to rock the boat.    I guess a compromise decision-making process is not part of their relationship.

So, we are cooking and the three of us will eat the best of the best, watch TV, play Wii, and nap.

And the next time money needs to be borrowed, maybe her aunt can loan it to her.

Bitter, party of one.  Yes, I know.  No one needs to tell me.

Time Flies, But Nothing Really Changes Wednesday, Nov 24 2010 

I didn’t realize it had been so long since I had signed in a written anything.  And I also didn’t realize I had not placed the last little bit of  my mother in law’s story out there.  I’ll have to remedy that soon.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow.  I am disappointed with the way the plans for the day are turning out, but there is not much I can do about it except accept it.  So I will.  I will have one of my children home for the day.  And I am thankful for that.  If guess if I wanted  to have a huge holiday celebration I should have had more children.

Drama, Drama, Drama Aging Parents Saturday, Apr 10 2010 

I have several excuses for why I have not written ‘blogged’ in a while.  Not that anyone cares.  I happen to be suffering from a bad case of spring pollen fever right now and don’t feel well, so my whining might show up in my blog tone.  My best excuse is a computer versus that wiped out my system, or should I say the cure caused me to have to wipe out my system, and I am slowly reinstalling things I had backed up.  Always back things up!

Next-At the beginning of February, on a Friday evening, as I was heading to dinner with friends, I received a call from my mother saying that my father was being admitted to the hospital for observation.  It wasn’t any big deal, but it would be good if I could come over and help her out.  She was vague on what ‘help’ she wanted and the overall tone along with the vagueness of her request was strange.

You might be thinking, but of course a daughter would drop what she was doing and run to the hospital when a situation like this pops up..but of course.  The background of the situation is much more complicated and suffice it to say that both of my brothers and I have parent issues that wouldn’t necessarily lead to that automatic occurence.  I think it is safe to say that overall neither of my siblings or I are ‘close’ to our parents.  But I digress.

Regardless, when Mom called and asked, I stated I’d come and I did.  I called my husband, the famous S of the Belle story included on this blog, and told him to go on to dinner without me. When I arrived at the hospital it was immediately apparent the situation was chaos.  My almost 75 year old father was in distress, vomiting, dizzy, amount other things, and my mother was not able to provide some of the simplest information the doctors needed regarding his medical history which is long and complicated and which she knows, quite well.  If there is one things my brothers and I agree on is that our mother can go on forever regarding the smallest detail of anything slightly medical, to the point that all of us stop listening the second she starts it up. However, this time, when I asked (which all by itself should have been a clue) about details regarding how this situation had come to pass, she was vague and distracted.

Over the course of the next 5 days, while my fathers condition worsened, was diagnosed, and then treated, I took control, as my Mother displayed all the signs I have feared  and have witnessed before.  Her short-term memory is failing.  I’ve guess I’ve known it, the small signs have been there all along but I guess I just didn’t want to belive it could happen. (again) But it is.

During the last several years Mom has become almost a hermit in the house.  She only leaves when she has too, and that is rare.  Doctor appointments, things like that.  Dad is the outside world, does the shopping, runs the errands.  With his new diagnosis, he cannot do that anymore.  He has seizures and is on mediation.  So now ‘their’ independence  is threatened.  And it gets better.

After all the hell we went through, Dad, with help from Mom has decided that he doesn’t need the new medication, and when going to the follow-up doctor, who had never seen him before and did not have his medical records, didn’t exactly tell him the truth about the circumstances surrounding the hospital diagnosis.  I was supposed to go to the appointment with them, but they changed it and went without me.  Then omitted the information.  The doctor wont talk to me until Dad gives permission.  Mom doesn’t recall all (or should I say any) of the details of the appointments and Dad only hears what he wants to hear.

I want to scream. I’ve discussed the situation with my brothers, via email, believe it or not.  And based on the way we are, that is probably best.

So after two months, here I am, waiting for my father to give his doctor permission for me to speak with the doctor about him.  I Have spoken with my mother about possible testing for her, pointing out some changes I’ve seen, giving examples, of why I think she should be tested for memory loss.  And here I sit wondering if my whole adult life is going to be swallowed up by caring for an elderly parent.  We took care of Belle for years and now, are we moving into a new phase with my parents?

Can I do this again? I really don’t know.

Chapter Thirty-Alzheimers Story Sunday, Jan 31 2010 

But I Already Have My Lipstick On:  Our story of dealing with Alzheimers

Chapter Thirty

Scott and I started to recover.  It seemed that Scott had forgotten how to have fun, be relaxed, and be himself.  We’ve forgotten how to be a couple, have conversation one on one and have fun.  We began to try joint activities and rekindle our relationship.  Although many of our conversation still focused on Belle, we began to speak of other things as well, a habit we had struggled with while she was living with us. We focused on the details of completing our new home, still under construction, such as fixtures and colors. Even with the immediate responsibility of Belle’s physical care removed from us, and the relief we both felt, Scott continued to feel guilty at the need move her to the facility. His regular visits that demonstrated his mother’s well being seemed to help him adjust and although he still felt guilty, the overall impact of his feelings on his demeanor diminished.   The decision to move Belle into full time assistance allowed Scott to refocus on their mother and son relationship instead of the practical, daily care side of their relationship.  He had stated often during the time she lived with us that no son should ever have to dress or bathe their mother. Scott’s stress signs began to ease.  Even as crazy as some of our visits with Belle could get, he was able to laugh and take weird happenings in stride.  Scott began to have more contact with Susan and their strained relationship eased a bit.  We began to feel we had turned a corner and that the worse of it for us was over.

About a month after moving in, Belle suffered an event which left her weak and confused.  It wasn’t the same type of issue as the fainting episodes she had experienced from time to time in previous months. After testing, the doctor ruled out a heart attack, but not the beginning of congestive heart failure or others issues along those lines.  Her heart rate was slower than the previous year, with no visible signs as to why.  In general however, she was otherwise physically healthy.  Belle was still taking high blood pressure, high cholesterol, bone density, and memory medications and we discussed with the doctor if it might be appropriate to discontinue any of these preventative medications.  We opted to continue each one, but the doctor reminded us that we should consider approving a DNR, and having it on file at the facility.  We agreed that no extraordinary measures should be taken in the event of a life threatening event, but that Belle should be treated for pain if appropriate.  Scott completed the DNR and filed it with the facility and the doctor.

We visited Belle for July 4th, during a scheduled family day at the facility.  Belle did not stop the activity she was involved in with the rest of the gang to visit with us.  She waved at us from the middle of the group and it reminded me of a little kid in a school play, waving at the parents when they are suppose to be singing, dancing or whatever.  She’d smile and wave and then try to refocus on what they were doing, while we watched from the sidelines.  Some of the residents had family visit and some did not, but since most residents did not know who belonged to who, it would be a leap to stay they did not know someone did not come to visit them.  It was not uncommon for other residents to think we were there to visit them versus Belle.  Scott had two of the little ladies that followed him around whenever he was there to visit.  He would just jump right in and help them out if they seemed to need anything or require assistance.  Sometimes I think he was better with them than the paid staff, mainly because for those few moments, he was able to focus on them without being responsible for anyone else.

I, once again, worked the closest to the facility (about three blocks away), so I was the first responder in the event Belle had an episode or a complaint that needed attention.  The facility did not issue over the counter medications without permission, so if Belle complained of a headache or cough, they would call me for permission for her to consume the requested item.  If they called Scott, he would give his permission then he would call me to run over and check on her since I was so close.  So basically, I was back on emergency run duty.

The facility used any method possible to create exercise for those able. They tossed soft items between each other while seated.  They rolled a ball around in the same manner.  They often played music and encouraged dance as one of the exercise methods.  Belle, in her changed personality state, seemed to like to wiggle around and dance and often when music played she would stand up in the group and dance.  Scott and I were still often surprised with her action in this area, because despite everything, it was still so out of her previous character for her to dance. On one visit, the group was in the middle of one of these music sessions and Scott joined the circle seated around the living room floor (the dance floor) while Belle danced in the middle of the circle.  As the music continued Belle started a flirtatious dance aimed at Scott and suddenly, without any warning, lifted her lightweight sweater to flash him with her chest.  I was standing on the other side of the room and saw her flash him and saw his expression. Scott was shocked, in more ways than one, as it was certainly not her personality type to flash her chest at anyone, much less him and to top it off, she wasn’t wearing anything under the sweater.   He blurted out in a surprised, choked voice “what are you doing?” while the music continued to play and Belle continued to dance. As she danced around the area a bit more, she moved closer to Scott, smiled coyly, and said in a clear, sweet, flirtatious voice, “if you don’t know, I’m flirting with you.”  I laughed until I almost cried.  Although no harm was done, Scott’s shock and surprise stayed etched on his face for the rest of our visit, which was not very long.  We can both laugh about it now, although for some time after this event, Scott felt it was a reminder of just how strange and impacting this disease was, and how far from normal Belle had become.  He grieved for the loss of his mother.

Soon after Belle’s arrival at the facility, another lady, also new to the facility, attached herself to Belle and sometimes believed that Belle was her husband.  While Belle had for the most part been in good spirits throughout her decline and even with the onset of her angrier levels still tended to be in good sprits most of the time, Bobbie displayed her dementia symptoms differently than Belle.  Bobbie tended to cry or, as Bobbie once told us ‘vibrate’.  Her anxiousness was clearly visible while she paced and wrung her hands.  Now that she had attached herself to Belle, she was constantly at Belle’s side, touching her hair, trying to hold her hand or attempting to talk with her and for her.  Belle’s reaction to this unwanted attention varied.  Sometimes, we would see no reaction at all, while other times she would display signs of stress that would manifest them in amplifying her recent habits.  She might sit by herself, turn her collar up, complain of a headache or that her eyes were tired, a common phrase used when she could not express what she really felt.  She might also refuse to eat when her stress levels were high.  After this situation became apparent and showed no signs of abating, Scott spoke with facility management about the issue.    Bobbie had not adjusted well to her new surroundings and her family had been told they may need to hire a full time helper for Bobbie to redirect her and otherwise keep her from affecting other residents.  The staff of the facility was aware of the issue and was already working on it with Bobbie’s family.   Bobbie was reevaluated by her doctor and her medications were adjusted.  This medication adjustment obviously calmed her down and although she still thought Belle was her husband, the calmer Bobbie was easier for Belle to tolerate.  As time passed, Belle sought Bobbie out for attention and they spent much of their time together.  It was not uncommon for them to hold hands or for Bobbie to tell us that ‘he is just wonderful’ during a visit.   Staff told us it was not uncommon for patients to become attached to one another, and most of the time, no issues arose.

At Christmas time, many families gathered at the facility for a Christmas sing along by the residents.  We were surprised and amused to see Bobbie’s ‘real’ husband present. No one had to point him out to us although later on we were introduced.  His resemblance to Belle was striking, same hair (color and length), same build, and glasses.  We now fully understood how someone suffering from dementia could come to believe that Belle was her husband.

As mentioned earlier, one of our pastimes during this period was to pick Belle up and take a drive to our new home under construction.  Living as a builder’s wife for most of her married life, she was familiar with job sites, and often visits to our home would bring forth a pleasant, relevant comment or two.  Scott would carefully lead her through the work site and she would chatter about whatever came into view.  We often sat at the picnic table we installed at the site and ate a snack.  This activity allowed us to spent time with Belle without stressing her or us.  It was during one of these visits that a moment of clarity hit Belle.  She looked at Scott sincerely, and told him she was proud of him and that Jim would have been proud too.  Scott was taken aback, overwhelmed and grateful.

It was also on one of these visits that we experienced an unpleasant side of Belle’s decline. After visiting the house, Scott assisted Belle back into the car and we took a short drive through the neighborhood.  Although Belle had not indicated that anything was amiss, it was soon apparent that we had an issue. Belle had been experiencing bladder control issues for some time, but she had not had, that we were aware of, had an issue with bowel control.  In that area, she was good at telling us she needed to use the restroom. But, unfortunately, on this occasion, she had an accident.  We pulled into the neighborhood park, which included a bathroom and proceeded to correct the situation.   While cleaning Belle up, she did not seem to understand what was happening and although she kept stating ‘oh my’, I had the impression it was because the water from the tap was cold versus maintaining an understanding that she had had an accident.  This event brought home to us once again, that time did not stand still and that she was losing more and more of her abilities.

As the months passed, we began to notice some things about the facility that caused us concern.  First, with 16 dementia patients all residing together, the atmosphere inside the facility could be frenzied.  Patients can get agitated and when one resident got worked up, it could have a negative impact on other patients.   Several times, when visiting Belle, she seemed upset by the actions of others, and it seemed to cause a bad day for her. A second issue was that residents had access to each other’s rooms and Belle’s things were often relocated to other rooms. Even with her name written in her clothes or on other belongings, it was difficult to keep items from moving around, and we were frequently retrieving her items from other resident’s rooms so she could have them.  It was also not uncommon to arrive and find her wearing someone else’s shoes, or taking a nap in someone else’s room. Additionally, Belle was one of the higher functioning residents and we began to suspect that due to her abilities, she received less attention than other residents.  Some of the other residents required almost constant attention, leaving less time for the caregivers to concentrate on residents at Belle’s level.  Belle needed to be monitored and reminded to ensure she was drinking plenty of fluids and eating or she would just at the table without consuming her food.    Although we felt she was safe at the facility, and we felt in general she was receiving the care she needed, we felt like this attention to detail might be missing.

With the expense of her current home and these attention concerns fresh in our minds, we decided to resume looking for alternative living arrangements for Belle that might have a ‘smaller’ atmosphere, a facility with fewer dementia patients that required attention and a facility that, hopefully would cost less.   The nurse practitioner at Belle’s doctor’s office recommended a specific personal care home not too far from us that catered to elderly with all kinds of issues.  The maximum resident capacity was four at any one time and it was located in a regular house in a neighborhood.  Scott contacted the facility’s owners and discussed at length Belle’s situation and his desired level of care for her. Susan, Scott and I visited the house, met with the owners and as a group, discussed Belle’s situation and our concerns.  We all agreed that the smaller atmosphere would benefit Belle.  We were also pleased that the cost was substantially less than her current facility. In January 2004 we placed her name on their waiting list.

On February 13, 2004 Belle suffered a severe episode and passed out while trying to use the bathroom. EMS was called.  I received the call from the facility as well and arrived at the facility just after EMS arrived.   Belle looked awful and pale as she lay perfectly still and the gurney.  For a moment, I thought she was gone.  EMS worked on her for some time trying to get a pulse or blood pressure reading, and finally, a pulse weakly appeared.  As she began to wake up, Belle was obviously frightened and obviously did not understand what was happening around her and to her. I held her hand, telling her all would be okay, as they prepared her for the ambulance.  As she was loaded into the ambulance, I told her I would be following her and that Scott was also on his way to her.  She whispered thank you.  Mentioning Scott always helped calm her.

Scott, Susan and her husband arrived at the hospital soon after Belle and I.    Tests were conducted to determine what had occurred, as this spell was not the same as the other small TIAs she had experienced.  The diagnosis was that she was dehydrated and had a low heart rate, a similar diagnosis as her last spell when she had first moved to the facility.  The dehydration that impacted her bowels with constipation causing her to strain to vacate and the low heart rate had caused to her pass out under this strain.  The doctor recommended that she receive a pacemaker as a low heart rate could cause to her faint under stress or, in a worst case scenario, her heart could just stop.

Scott refused to approve the placement of a pacemaker. Keeping her body going strong when her mind was gone was just not reasonable.  Although Scott explained Belle’s mental dementia situation to the doctor treating her for this episode, along with our concern she would harm the device by constantly picking or scratching at it under her skin, the doctor was very surprised at Scott’s steadfast denial of permission to proceed.  It was quite obvious that he did not agree with the decision. The doctor seemed to think it was an expense issue and repeated several times that Medicare would cover the procedure.  However, Scott did not change his mind and in the doctors’ presence, Susan and I agreed with Scott’s decision.  It was obvious the doctor did not understand our position or Belle’s mental incapacity.

As we spoke with the doctor, leaving Belle for a brief time in the emergency room under the supervision of others, who had been told that Belle could not be left alone, Belle managed to remove all her tubes (IVs for hydration) and monitors (pulse, heart) by just ripping them off and out of her.   The aid said she only left Belle alone for a moment or two.  Even though this occurred after Scott had declined the pacemaker option, her actions provided ample proof to us that a pacemaker, which can be felt under the skin, would be, in her mental condition, an issue.  We felt it was likely she could scratch at it in the same manner she scratched off moles on her skin.

Later that afternoon, we took Belle back to the facility for the night and explained the situation.  We felt that part of the issue that had caused her episode, which was Belle’s severe dehydration, was directly due to her care at the facility.    They were responsible for monitoring her fluid intake to prevent just this type of situation.  They assured us they were doing all required of them, but would be more diligent with her fluid intake.

The next morning we contacted the owner of the personal care home to ascertain the status of the wait list.  A couple that had been living at the personal care home while he recuperated from surgery was planning to move back to their home at month end, earlier than expected.  So, with perfect timing in our opinion, an opening for Belle would be available at the beginning of the following month.   We made arrangements to move Belle to the personal care home as soon as possible.

Scott called his brothers.  He told them what happened with the most recent episode, what he had decided regarding the pacemaker and about moving Belle to the personal care home.  Mike, as usual, was the most supportive.  He was the least involved with his mother’s care and the most supportive throughout all the phases of Belle’s situation thus far.   Chuck was tentative about another move, but bowed to Scott’s power to decide.  Larry was the most vocal but was at least complimentary of the cost savings for the new location.

Once again timing was on our side and the couple occupying the room Belle would be assigned decided to make their move the following week.  We packed up Belle’s belongs and moved Belle to the new home as soon as the couple had finished moving out.  I re-hung all her pictures and made her new room as much like home as possible. Belle adjusted surprisingly well to the move.  She was the only dementia patient in residence and the slower pace of the home provided her with more ‘good’ days.

Weddings! Expensive! Sunday, Jan 31 2010 

OMG!  I cannot believe how expensive anything labeled ‘wedding’ is!  Doesn’t matter if is ordinary or not.  If it is attached to a wedding or labeled ’wedding’, the cost goes up.  Period.

We are helping plan a wedding.  Or should I say we are planning a wedding and making it look like we aren’t making all the decisions.  My spouse (remember  S?) is good at this type of thing, organization, and has basically taken over being the wedding planner.  I am good at colors and such.  And the fact the wedding will be at our house….that’s a different piece of the story….but also part of the reason we are so involved.

We don’t have any daughters, but figured at some point in our lives we would be paying for a rehearsal dinner.  And in a more traditional society, that might still be the case.  But tradition is out of the window, and that’s okay. S and I got married at a JP, no big or small wedding for us, and we’ve gotten along all these years just fine.  And it appears the days of a small reception in the church rec room with nuts, mints and punch are gone as well.  Nowadays, if everyone isn’t completely stressed out and broke by the time the wedding day arrives, then something has gone wrong it seems.  Our plan is to remain liquid, as unstressed as possible and still have a nice small, pretty wedding that provides the essentials of wedding held to today’s standards without the cost.  Is that possible?  It better be.

Like we do with almost everything else, we say we will ‘hire it out’ and then price it to do just that and decide we can handle it better and less expensively ourselves.  And then we dive in and get’r done.  S starts making lists. He’s a good list maker.  At least this time, he is checking things off the lists he’s made.

The house is designed to open(double doors) from the living and dining room onto the back porch, but even then it is not big enough to hold all the planned quests inside, so the ceremony and reception will be in the backyard and overflow into the house.    The yard is shaded and fenced, but after the recent drought needs some replanting and such, which we are now planning.  (Too cold right now) We want to have as much blooming as possible.  The rest of the blooming plants can be possible by potted plants on the fences and just sitting around.  The tables and chairs have been reserved.  We decided to include a few higher pub style tables for standing at for those that like to mill around.  The tablecloths have been arrived.  I thought it would be a nice touch to hang some coordinating curtains on the porch, and have ordered some.  I am looking for some ribbon to match the colors now for tie backs and other things one would use ribbon for.

S has handled cakes for weddings before and plans on baking for this one as well.  He is taking decorating classes now to up his game.  The cake part will taste good and he wants the decorations to look as good.  The food to be served is still under discussion, although we already have all the items needed to serve it.

Looking at invitations. Tons of options online.  This should be….  ummm ….    fun.

Chapter Twenty Nine-Alzheimers Story Wednesday, Jan 20 2010 

 But I Already Have My Lipstick On:  Our story of dealing with Alzheimers 

Chapter Twenty Nine

The facility we selected was expensive and catered to persons with Alzheimer’s/dementia.  It was built for that purpose and was basically a house with 16 bedrooms.  It had a nice, large oak filled back yard that afforded the mobile residents outdoor time if desired. The front door of the facility was locked with a security entry system to ensure residents couldn’t leave without permission. The facility boasted a nice living space and separate dining space that allowed for group activities and family visits. Belle would have her own room and bathroom with a commode and sink.  Baths were taken in a special area with a special tub with a door so that residents did not have to step over the side of a tub into a shower.  (We had worried about this situation at home with Belle.) The facility had a hairdresser that came in once a week and used the small hair salon to keep the residents looking their best. All in all, it seemed like a perfect fit. The individuals in residence were at all different levels of assistance, from those requiring a hired helper to those like Belle, that were mobile and maintained a small level of self ability.   After the doctors and facility’s assessment of Belle were completed, all involved agreed her needs would be met. We finalized our decision with a deposit which confirmed we would be placing Belle at the facility and started the expected six month or more wait.  The day care would close down before the estimated 6 month wait was over and we worried about how we would manage Belle during the gap. We discussed the possibility of each of us taking shortened work weeks and tag team staying home.  We both had some leave time built up and if our employers would cooperate, we could care for her at home without too much of a financial impact on us. I checked on how my work laptop could connect from home, hoping I could work some from home while still caring for Belle.  However, in mid May 2003, just as we finalized the decision, the facility notified us of an opening beginning in June.  We agreed Belle would fill that open slot. We called Scott’s siblings and explained the decision. 

When the time for her move was close, I channeled my emotional energy into all the needed activities. I took two days off from work and began preparing for the move.  I made copies of favorite family pictures from her bedroom with us, framed the copies and placed name labels on the glass over the picture.  I thought the labels might help her recall her loved ones and also allow caregivers to engage in conversation with her regarding the people in the pictures.  I thought if she mentioned a family member by name, the caregiver could point out the loved one to Belle for reference. I made sure that each immediate family member was featured in a picture.  I coordinated preparation for the rest of her personal items and furniture she would be taking with her, including the memory books of family pictures we used to assist her with conversation and recall.  I marked all her clothes, sheets and other items.   I coordinated with the facility to get her room painted a light cheery pale yellow.   Scott coordinated her medication transfer, as the facility required bubble packs versus loose mediations in a bottle.

On June 12th, the day before Belle’s scheduled arrival, Scott and I delivered her belongings to her new room.   I set up her room by arranging the furniture, hanging her pictures and placing her clothes in her closet.  Our plan was to have the room ‘hers’, familiar and comfortable, before she arrived.  We wanted her to feel settled and at home to ease her transition.

On June 13th, Scott and I accompanied her to her new home and stayed with her while she inspected her new surroundings.   The attention to detail and care taken to make sure she was comfortable in her new surroundings seemed to work and as she explored her new room, she moved from picture to picture, reading the names out loud or laughing.    She immediately began interacting with other residents and after watching her for awhile, we decided it was time for us to leave.  Susan had originally planned to accompany us when we brought Belle to her new home, but Susan’s plans changed, and she promised to visit her that evening and let us know how things were progressing. So, with some reluctance, we started our goodbyes.  I watched Scott closely as I was sure he would crack under the stain and the guilt he felt that we could no longer keep her at home.  He kissed her and told her we’d be back later to visit and that Susan would be by to visit later.  He helped her settle in to a seat in the dining room to eat her first meal at her new home. As we left the facility that day, I watched as Scott cried for the first time in many years.   

We were concerned that the change in living arrangements would negatively impact Belle’s abilities.  We were concerned that she was past the ability to adjust to new surroundings. The staff at the facility told us that sometimes families wait too long to place a loved on in a facility of this nature out of guilt and by the time the person comes to live at the facility the transition is not smooth.   They are in new surroundings that are not familiar and they cannot recall why.  But Belle adapted very well to her new home.  We were thrilled she still had enough ability to adjust.  Sometimes when we came to visit, she acted as if we are interrupting her business.  We purchased wind chimes for the back yard and large flower pots with blooming flowers which Scott and Belle tended on our visits.  We ate meals with her in the dining room, watched movies with her in the living room or sat with her in the backyard swing.  Belle seemed to believe the facility was her house and would turn off the lights others turned on.  We laughed on more than one occasion when she complained to us that these other people in her house were wasting electricity or would wonder out loud who all these people at her house were. 

We began a routine of at least one weekday and one weekend visit, unless something dictated otherwise.  We frequently took Belle for drives to look at fall leaves or Christmas lights. Sometimes we drove out to her old country home or by other places from her past.  Sometimes we drove out to our new house, still under construction, and drove through what would be our new neighborhood, pointing out flowers, trees and house designs we thought she would like. Many times, if a house was pointed out, she would comment that Jim had built it, when of course he had not. She continued to like chocolate shakes, so sometimes we purchased the treat and just drove around while she drank it. Susan also began to visit regularly, taking Belle out of the facility for manicures and snacks.

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