Yes, I'm sad to say that MB has finally moved on to a better place.
R. I. P.
Relocation Implementation Plan.
That's the plan I devised because her needs could no longer be met by me in my home.
Huh...? R. I. P. ? You thought it meant what...? Oh, sorry, I didn't think of that... no, she's fit and healthy in body and... well in body at least.
I have relocated MB to this place...
Eden in Lynbrook. (click link)
It's a good place and I think it's much better for her
health and safety. MB had started to leave the gas on
on the stove, she was constantly confused and she would
venture out to the gate of the property when on her own,
and that worried me enormously as she would never
find her way back if she wandered off. And of course,
she would not be able to tell anyone where she
was supposed to be if she was found to be lost.
So as hard as it was, I made the decision to relocate
her into a care facility. R. I. P.
To get her to accept the move, I had to fib to her...
I told her that I was going away, which was usually
acceptable because I would always arrange
to have someone come in of an evening and
supervise/assist her in preparing her evening
meal... and then sit with her and be a companion
until 10:00pm, bed time.
But I had to add a little twist this time.
I told MB that I couldn't get anyone to be with
her every evening and so I had to find somewhere
for her to stay whilst I was away. After the initial
discussion and many empty promises that it was
just for a short while, she relaxed into the idea.
Reluctantly, but true to form, once it was obvious
that it was going to happen, she ceased all
resistance and concentrated on making sure all
her needs would be met.
Her needs, by the way, boiled down to food and
laxatives. If I could reassure her that those
two fundamentals of life could be guaranteed,
then she would be fine.
And she is.
She's been there just over a week and my sister
reports that she's settling in just fine. Unfortunately
we have to keep up the charade of me being away
so that enough time passes and it becomes normal
for her to be there. I will in fact be 'in town' briefly
this weekend, which will allow me to visit her
without blowing the cover.
The house is different now that she's gone... I get
to use the remote control, I can play my music when
and as loud as the mood takes me, I don't have to
argue over things that others take as given, I no
longer harbour suspicions that she's washed her
knickers in the kitchen sink, we don't argue over
undoing the seat belt in the car too soon, I am not
constantly wiping up after her, I no longer search
the house high and low for something that belongs
in one place and has just been moved to a randomly
selected new location, I don't have to check that the
cutlery hasn't been placed back in the drawer unwashed,
I don't have to constantly repeat every single instruction/
request/information that I give her, I don't have to place
the photos back on the wall that she took down for no
reason, I have my own room back, the bathroom is no
longer cluttered with things that MB insisted that she
needed but never used, the toilet brush now sits the
right way up, the house is no longer as hot as an oven
because she just couldn't get warm, I no longer hear
her banging into her bedroom wall as she walked in
a pitch black room to hop into bed because she
refused to turn on the bedside lamp, I no longer have
to work out what TV show she was convinced was
supposed to be on but wasn't because she was reading
the wrong page of the guide, I don't have to search her
dressing table drawers for the mail that she collected
from the mailbox and opened then decided that she
wouldn't be able to give it to me in that condition so would
hide it in her room, and I don't constantly worry about
how she's going... but what I do do now is feel bad about
putting her in care... and I miss her.
I love MB, and I've done the best I could possibly do
for her... I hope in her addled mind that she was happy
and felt safe and cared for... I hope I did enough for her.
Cheers MB.
R. I. P.
Relocation Implementation Plan.
That's the plan I devised because her needs could no longer be met by me in my home.
Huh...? R. I. P. ? You thought it meant what...? Oh, sorry, I didn't think of that... no, she's fit and healthy in body and... well in body at least.
I have relocated MB to this place...
Eden in Lynbrook. (click link)It's a good place and I think it's much better for her
health and safety. MB had started to leave the gas on
on the stove, she was constantly confused and she would
venture out to the gate of the property when on her own,
and that worried me enormously as she would never
find her way back if she wandered off. And of course,
she would not be able to tell anyone where she
was supposed to be if she was found to be lost.
So as hard as it was, I made the decision to relocate
her into a care facility. R. I. P.
To get her to accept the move, I had to fib to her...
I told her that I was going away, which was usually
acceptable because I would always arrange
to have someone come in of an evening and
supervise/assist her in preparing her evening
meal... and then sit with her and be a companion
until 10:00pm, bed time.
But I had to add a little twist this time.
I told MB that I couldn't get anyone to be with
her every evening and so I had to find somewhere
for her to stay whilst I was away. After the initial
discussion and many empty promises that it was
just for a short while, she relaxed into the idea.
Reluctantly, but true to form, once it was obvious
that it was going to happen, she ceased all
resistance and concentrated on making sure all
her needs would be met.
Her needs, by the way, boiled down to food and
laxatives. If I could reassure her that those
two fundamentals of life could be guaranteed,
then she would be fine.
And she is.
She's been there just over a week and my sister
reports that she's settling in just fine. Unfortunately
we have to keep up the charade of me being away
so that enough time passes and it becomes normal
for her to be there. I will in fact be 'in town' briefly
this weekend, which will allow me to visit her
without blowing the cover.
The house is different now that she's gone... I get
to use the remote control, I can play my music when
and as loud as the mood takes me, I don't have to
argue over things that others take as given, I no
longer harbour suspicions that she's washed her
knickers in the kitchen sink, we don't argue over
undoing the seat belt in the car too soon, I am not
constantly wiping up after her, I no longer search
the house high and low for something that belongs
in one place and has just been moved to a randomly
selected new location, I don't have to check that the
cutlery hasn't been placed back in the drawer unwashed,
I don't have to constantly repeat every single instruction/
request/information that I give her, I don't have to place
the photos back on the wall that she took down for no
reason, I have my own room back, the bathroom is no
longer cluttered with things that MB insisted that she
needed but never used, the toilet brush now sits the
right way up, the house is no longer as hot as an oven
because she just couldn't get warm, I no longer hear
her banging into her bedroom wall as she walked in
a pitch black room to hop into bed because she
refused to turn on the bedside lamp, I no longer have
to work out what TV show she was convinced was
supposed to be on but wasn't because she was reading
the wrong page of the guide, I don't have to search her
dressing table drawers for the mail that she collected
from the mailbox and opened then decided that she
wouldn't be able to give it to me in that condition so would
hide it in her room, and I don't constantly worry about
how she's going... but what I do do now is feel bad about
putting her in care... and I miss her.
I love MB, and I've done the best I could possibly do
for her... I hope in her addled mind that she was happy
and felt safe and cared for... I hope I did enough for her.
Cheers MB.
6 comments:
It certainly sounds as if you did everything you could to give her a happy home life and I'm sure it must have been a hard decision. Sometimes we have to be cruel to be kind and if it's for her own safety, you were definitely doing a kind thing.
She'll probably have a ball in there, mixing with people her own age and having company all the time. You have a big big heart Bear and no-one could have done more.
Gypsy:
Thank you for your kind words, Gypsy.
One doesn't do these things for the 'thanks', but one does miss the show of appreciation if it doesn't come.
I once consoled myself with the thought that if her mind was working as it should, then she would understand what I was doing for her and not be quite so cantankerous and show some appreciation... but then if her mind was working she wouldn't need me as she does... then she looked into my eyes for a moment, and like a faint light shining at the end of a long dark tunnel, I could see a glimmer of understanding and gratitude.
And you know what, Gypsy, as it turned out it wasn't the gratitude that I was looking for... it was the understanding.
I go to visit her soon, I hope I get to see that understanding again.
What I want to know is - Did you let her bring her golf clubs?
;)
My mom INSISTs that I am to NEVER EVER put her in a "home". But I think we all know that sometimes that IS the best and safest option for folks who can't safely care for themselves.
I pray I'm never in the postiion you are, but if I were, I'd do the same thing.
Life is hard, but you're a brave and loving bear. Hugs to MB!
I think you are a very caring, considerate bear. When MB's safety is compromised you have to take action. As Gypsy said, I am sure she will enjoy mixing with all the other people at the home. You did what you had to do. Good on you!
It is one of the most difficult decisions and things to do.... Know that what you are going through and the feelings your are experiencing is so universally understood.... at least it is in this part of the world.
YOu acted from the heart with your heart..... out of love, and concern. :)
That is so hard and so sad, but it would be harder and sadder if she had burned herself up in the kitchen or gotten hit in traffic. Keep the charade about being out of town up for as long as you can. You create a better reality for her than what is real. The object is for her to be safe, comfortable and at peace. The object for you is to not feel guilty for taking the best care of her you can.
My mother never did get comfortable in the home. She wanted me to pick her up every time I visited. It was painful to go and deny her. Now she doesn't know who I am but she's at peace and safe, and glad for a visit -- no matter if she can't remember ever having a daughter.
It's still the best choice. Bad things do happen to people with dementia. And sometimes it really hurts other people as well.
My niece was driving home from college for Thanksgiving a few years ago, very excited to tell her family that she was engaged and surprise them with her beautiful ring. Instead, an elderly woman with Alzheimer's stepped out in front of my niece's car, hitting the windshield and rolling the length of the vehicle. She was killed instantly, and my niece has to carry that burden the rest of her life. The elderly woman's family said that they had been meaning to put her in an institution but hadn't had the heart to do it. They killed their mother and damaged a young woman for life.
You have courage and heart, Bear. And MB is lucky to have you.
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