<p>gtAlum, I am sorry for your DH and your loss. I am glad it was more peaceful than it might have been.</p>
<p>walkinghome, I am sorry about your father in March, too.</p>
<p>eyemom that is a common complaint. Mom just told me about her shoes being stolen. sigh. She has been complaining about some white blouses being stolen ever since a year ago last October wish I could figure out what she is looking for and buy a replacement. But THEN she knows that is a new one. </p>
<p>I am really annoyed at the pharmacy required by the AL place. The AL place wants the pills in the bubbles, which is annoying. And keeps saying that they will do the bottles for the aspirin for $5 for 350 instead of the $5 for 30 that the pharmacy does… but in three months they haven’t gotten it right yet! GRRR.</p>
<p>moneymom, so sorry for your loss and your feeling of being overwhelmed. When Hurricane Sandy struck, my dad and stepmother, 90 and 92, had no power for over a week and I took them into my small apartment up 2 steep flights of steps. My daughter had to stay with a friend, but school was closed almost the whole time because the subways were flooded, also due to Sandy. Once I took them back home after the power went on, I thought I would die of anxiety. I just couldn’t relax. I asked all my friends if anyone could recommend a therapist, and through one of them, I found a wonderful therapist who helped a lot, right from the first day. Now over a year later, they are both in decline and issues come up all the time, but I feel so much better, and I can honestly say that I am doing the best I can, and although I am by no means perfect, I am a good enough daughter and stepdaughter.</p>
<p>Also, to the person who recommended a credit card for a parent’s account in your name: strongly recommended!</p>
<p>walkinghome, I’m sorry for your loss. We’re in that transition period too, having lost Dad in November. Luckily my brother is handling the big money stuff, the portfolio, etc. I’m doing the emotional support for Mom, being the child nearby. And my other brother is Mr. Cleanout Logistics. He’s already spent a couple of days de-cluttering Mom’s apartment and disposing of Dad’s stuff. He’ll probably need at least two or three more trips over to finish it all. It’s a process.</p>
<p>My father (mommusic’s father, that is. Mommusic can’t sign in anymore for reasons no one has been able to explain) is doing well and back at assisted living after his latest bout with pneumonia. He sounds stronger on the phone and says he feels good. But his latest call nearly gave me a heart attack–he said, “I have a bit of an emergency here…” “Then CALL 911!” I’m ready to shout. </p>
<p>The “emergency” was that his walker caught in the cord to his digital photo frame and brought the whole thing down, breaking it. He wanted me to buy him a new one right away because he so loves having photos of his family there all the time. Whew. </p>
<p>BTW, Amazon delivered the new one in record time. But really, emergency??? @-) </p>
<p>I have read much of this thread over the year. It is time to post…</p>
<p>I’m lying on the fold out couch in my father’s hospital room. He was transitioned to Hospice level care yesterday. It has been an often difficult, sometimes surprisingly uplifting and completely exhausting two weeks.</p>
<p>Dad is 93 and has been struggling with growing dementia and frailty over the past year. Two weeks ago we got ‘the call’. Dad had fallen and was in the ER. We watched our beloved and gentle father go in and out of full-blown delirium; screaming and literally rattling the bed frame. He survived the fracture repair and was transitioned to rehab. All along he continued to go in and out of delirium. After what seemed like a very good day and what looked like he was making good progress we got another call. He was readmitted to the hospital with pneumonia. He was so agitated and delirious that my sister had to help physically restrain him so they could do a blood draw. My dear sweet hubby helped to hold him down when they put in the IV line. He seemed to be getting on top of the pneumonia but after a few days it was obvious he could not clear the mucous and was once again sliding down hill. We have all know his wishes to not have heroic (only use of antibiotics) measures so nature is taking its course. Dad has been completely calm and asleep during the night. I keep checking on him and am not sure if he will even be responsive come morning, but it is such a blessing to have him out of physical and psychological pain. </p>
<p>During all of this, dad had a day of complete clarity. He smiled and joked with us, he was reminiscing about his life and his family. We talked about our favorite times. He was able to tell us how much he loved us and how happy he is with where our lives have taken us. We looked at family pictures and he gushed over his grand kids. We were able to reassure him that we will take good care of mom and that he has nothing to worry about. We told him what a wonderful job he has done as a father, husband, and friend. It was bittersweet.</p>
<p>H has been such a rock for our family. Because of his gentle insistence all the legal documents, financial issues and business logistics are in order. Mom, who is 88, has come to terms with the inevitable. She had been struggling with (and hiding) the extent of dad’s dementia for some time. We had started the process of finding a memory care home for him. In fact on the day he fell we had an appointment with a placement counselor. In so many ways, it is a blessing he will be spared this stage. </p>
<p>Such mixed emotions. Part of me is happy mom will be able to live her life to the fullest again. Dad’s anxiety had been getting progressively worse such that he never wanted mom to leave his sight. I’m thinking, wow…now I can take mom to visit the kids at college, she can stay with us for extended visits etc…and then in rushes the guilt.</p>
<p>It seems like the moment our youngest left for college the needs of my parents and hubby’s mom went into overdrive. We keep reminding our selves that we are blessed this all waited until the kids were doing well in their new lives. </p>
<p>Big transitions are coming. Breath in, breath out…</p>
<p>Thank you everyone for your kind words. Dad was awake and hungry this morning. Wanted a sausage sandwich and a dark beer…ah the old country shines through. We had to settle for sugared tea and pureed soup.</p>
<p>I am in awe…the hospice which has a place for dad used to be a Catholic school. It is the school where I attended kindergarten. It is adjacent to the apartment where my family lived until I was 5. It is where I learned to ride a tricycle, where we spent Sundays at the playground and where I remember wiping the snow off of the 1958 rambler ambassador during one of the freak SF snow storms. It is where my dad held my hand as we walked to the ice cream parlor and to the grocery store. Life is coming full circle.</p>
<p>dietz, does your dad recall any of those memories? He may find the full circle comforting, too. I have goosebumps reading your last post. May these memories be a blessing and comfort to you all.</p>
<p>That is really something Dietz - all those memories surrounding you and your family. The request for a sandwich and dark beer made me smile. Thinking of you and your Dad.</p>
<p>Dietz, best to you and your family in getting through this difficult time. It certainly sounds like your dad has found comfort in the hospice home and your story is amazing. I hope he can get his Bratz and beer! </p>
<p>dietz, your last couple of posts bring tears to my eyes. You and your family have done and are doing everything right. My wish for you is that you’ll look back on these last precious moments with him as a supreme blessing and privilege. May he have a soft landing.</p>
<p>And a special pat on the back for your DH. His having your back makes all the difference.</p>
<p>My dear father has passed. His suitcase was packed, he took it and got on the train. Although never every an actual uniformed soldier,his experiences include him in the genre… these lyric by Emmylou Harris say it best…Safe and joyous journey papa…we will continue to shine in the light of the moon you hung…</p>
<p>I meant to ask you how to fix that car
I always meant to ask you about the war
And what you saw across a bridge too far
Did it leave a scar</p>
<p>Or how you navigated wings of fire and steel
Up where heaven had no more secrets to conceal
And still you found the ground beneath your wheels
How did it feel</p>
<p>Bang the drum slowly play the pipe lowly
To dust be returning from dust we begin
Bang the drum slowly I’ll speak of things holy
Above and below me world without end</p>
<p>I meant to ask you how when everything seemed lost
And your fate was in a game of dice they tossed
There was still that line that you would never cross
At any cost</p>
<p>I meant to ask you how you lived what you believed
With nothing but your heart up your sleeve
And if you ever really were deceived
By the likes of me</p>
<p>Bang the drum slowly play the pipe lowly
To dust be returning from dust we begin
Bang the drum slowly I’ll speak of things holy
Above and below me world without end</p>
<p>Gone now is the day and gone the sun
There is peace tonight all over Arlington
But the songs of my life will still be sung
By the light of the moon you hung</p>
<p>I meant to ask you how to plow that field
I meant to bring you water from the well
And be the one beside you when you fell
Could you tell</p>
<p>Bang the drum slowly play the pipe lowly
To dust be returning from dust we begin
Bang the drum slowly I’ll speak of things holy
Above and below me world without end</p>