<p>eddieodessa, what would happen if you buy a package of Depends, the ones that sort of look like pullups. Maybe tell your dad that they are disposable underwear. Tell him you already spent the money, maybe he could try them? And if not, well, it is what it is. It is what it is is what I tell myself a lot. I don’t know if you guys remember the concept of “good enough mom”–now I feel like the “good enough daughter.” None of us are saints, all we can do is the best we can, right? Sympathy and empathy to all.</p>
<p>eddieodessa, these are the ones I was talking about:
<a href=“http://depend.com/womens-solutions/products/19558”>http://depend.com/womens-solutions/products/19558</a></p>
<p>They sell them in gigantic boxes at Costco if they work out for your mom and dad.</p>
<p>swimcatsmom - can your brother arrange for you to skype with your mom? It helps my parents and they can do the technology if someone is there working with it. It is tough with so many life events. I hope the surgery goes well and hope it’s not serious. </p>
<p>SOSconcern - so many challenges in your life. So tough to be a caregiver as well. </p>
<p>On introducing Depends to an elder, if it’s too hard for FIL to present them to MIL, perhaps the next time she’s taken to any medical visit, a nurse could be asked to do so. It’s sometimes easier to hear from a professional than a family member on these personal matters, for both members of the couple.</p>
<p>On the loss of memory “hurting” the FIL (his wording), I have a few thoughts to share which I hope might be helpful . For some, the direct impacts of short-term memory loss, such as asking same questions repeatedly, are less bothersome to folks who share the same household. If someone’s ankle were broken of course they’d limp, but now their memory is broken, so of course they forget. Harder to handle are the secondary impacts of the memory loss, which cause breakdowns in reasoning and behavior. Those make caregivers scramble for solutions all day long. For example, when my Mom can’t remember that my brother told her he was taking over her finances, then she railed against him to anyone who’d listen (family and friends) that he did all this behind her back, which made my bro feel very badly. Or when she can’t remember how to cook a hamburger, she’d wake at 3 a.m. to pop a 5-pound block of frozen ground beef onto a tiny fry pan, waltz the pan off the stove with flame burning, and so forth until my brother had a lock installed on the refrigerator for overnight. The upsetting behaviors and lack of reasoning caused by memory loss required much more attention by caregivers than the mere repetition of answers to same questions, although that too is wearying. </p>
<p>When all the home triggers for responsibilities were removed by placing her in a nursing home (last month), she has relaxed considerably. Our big problem, unfortunately, is that they have a new doctor who reversed her longtime doctor’s advice that alcohol be prohibited, based on his interview with her. They have a 4 p.m. “happy hour” there, doncha know. Once she was widowed, we siblings worked for 5 years to rein in her alcoholism, which likely sped up her Alz/dementia. Admitted as a “dry drunk” this doctor, with a pen-stroke, restored her “rights” because she still carries on a conversation that impresses strangers (former professor). I’m upset – I understand rights, but if you believe alcoholism is a disease, then you’d treat it as such. Here’s my parallel: If someone had diabetes plus dementia, is it their “right” to determine their own insulin levels? Brother and I are trying to figure out how to reverse this decision about the alcohol. Aside from this alcohol ruling, she is much more relaxed to visit in this nursing home than when she lived at my brother’s house. If she disagrees with some aspect of her care, she can fuss with staff and it’s not her own son. I’m long-distance which is its own dilemma, but we work as a team to our best abilities. Trying to “do my best effort” and not trying for “doing it correctly, or the best way…”, is a helpful mantra inside my head.</p>
<p>Ha, I started trying to reply to someone else and just ended up telling you my stuff. Welcome to the club.</p>
<p>The recovering alcoholic with dementia presents a difficult question. Is denying that person alcohol what they would have wanted before they were demented? I can imagine that an undemented recovering alcoholic might say, sure, I’m glad now that I’m not drinking, but if I become demented let me drink again, it’ll make me happy and I’d be dying anyway.</p>
<p>paying3, when my parents first moved to AL, I was worried about “happy hour” too. I spoke to the staff about my dad’s history of alcoholism, and they set my mind at ease. They don’t let the drinks just flow and flow to a resident, and they’re not going to let anyone get drunk. If there had been a problem with Dad not being able to handle what little booze they allowed him, I’m sure they would have cut him off altogether for future happy hours. It never got that far.</p>
<p>My MIL passed away 2 years ago this month. I wish I could give all of you hugs – you’re doing tough work. </p>
<p>Eddieodessa, I remember you posting some time back about parent issues, maybe on one of the earlier threads. It’s good to see you again. </p>
<p>I wanted to respond to what you said about feeling guilty. The last 4 months of my dad’s life were so difficult and overwhelming, and it took a terrible toll on my mom, not to mention me and the rest of the family. I had those same thoughts at times, that life would get better for all of us once he was gone. (And it has.) I was fortunate to be able to talk to a pastor about it and later to a hospice social worker, and to hear them say what I already knew: that those feelings are normal and didn’t mean that I was a bad daughter or a bad person. I learned to acknowledge them for what they were, a response to my exhaustion and frustration and helplessness at the impending loss of my father – and then to forgive myself. I hope the same for you. </p>
<p>Hugs. </p>
<p>My father passed away two weeks ago. The last year of his life was difficult for all of us that loved and cared for him. He used to be a kind, gentle, intelligent and articulate man who was a joy to be around. Dementia took that from him leaving him anxious and suspicious and angry. It was aging my mother in an accelerated manner. We were pursuing alternative living arrangements for him and knew this was going to crush him completely. Then he fell. And, honestly, we each individually uttered an internal sigh of relief thinking…this is it and he will be at peace. </p>
<p>Well, it took 3 weeks of ups and downs and total emotional exhaustion. When he finally passed I happened to look in a mirror and noticed the color had returned to my face. I felt guilty, and now when I think of how much easier it is for mom and for the extended family, I feel guilty. I also know he would understand, and is happier where he is now than in a continued existence in dimension. </p>
<p>A wise friend said…it is okay to mourn your own loss (and to have guilt for mourning less than you think you ‘should’) and at the same time rejoice that your loved one is at peace and in a much better level of existence.</p>
<p>One of my fathers last words of wisdom during one of his fleeting lucid moments was …'what is the purpose of living this long (he was 93)?..he answered his own question…‘it is to be kind to others’. I know these ‘others’ included his loved ones with conflicting emotions. </p>
<p>Hugs to all taking this twisting and difficult journey.</p>
<p>dietz I am so sorry for your loss. I hope you take your wise friend’s words to heart.</p>
<p>When my grandmother died of alzheimers, it was just a long relief for everyone. There was nothing to be sad about it all because she had been gone so long. We mourned for six years and were not guilty for knowing she was much more at peace.</p>
<p>Dietz, there’s no wrong way to grieve. You’ll find your own path that’s right for you.</p>
<p>I’m sorry for your loss. What a beautiful benediction your dad left you at the end. </p>
<p>Actually, when our loved ones lose their ability to be rational and in this world,we lose them long before their physical body goes to the next dimension. Sadly, this happens more and more often with medical science being able to keep bodies “functioning,” when the mind has long since gone.</p>
<p>Wishing peace and serenity for all who suffer with these challenges. Your work is so important and you are making/have made a big difference for your loved ones.</p>
<p>Thinking of so many here with facing recents losses, both deaths and decline of their elders. What strength and tenacity it takes to navigate all of this. It is so complicated, with every situation unique and sometimes humbling. </p>
<p>Years ago, my FIL was terminally ill at 54. When he died, my now 89 year old father observed that there are things worse than death. I believe that to be true. I have not felt guilty for being relieved that loved ones are no longer suffering, as all had made it clear that the time had come. I would have been remorseful if we had pushed for more intervention and time after they were ready to let go. Of course, there is grief and each of them is deeply missed. Somehow, time moves us forward, and we take their gifts with us. </p>
<p>You write beautifully, dietz. Hugs.
When Pete Seeger passed, Arlo Gurthrie wrote about what’s been called meditative conversation. The idea you can still communicate, soul to soul. I usually do a little meditation and prayer every night before I go to sleep - Just part of the routine. Last night, I decided to go visit Pete Seeger for a while, just to spend a little time together, it was around 9 PM. So I was sitting in my home in Florida, having a lovely chat with Pete, who was in a hospital in New York City. That’s the great thing about thoughts and prayers- You can go or be anywhere. There’s more.</p>
<p>This isn’t much different than folks who find resolution to loss, guilt or other feelings through a dreams. Life has a cycle we can’t have much impact on. We’re told we can, by doing this or that. We’re aware there are “miracle drugs” and treatments. Then we feel we never did 100% right or tried hard enough or had the perfect attitude and thoughts. Guilt. I wonder of anyone here has found this sort of meditative conversation helpful.</p>
<p>Nobody prepares us for life’s passages. Remember how we felt as new parents? We’re all doing the best we can for our loved ones and ourselves. </p>
<p>Dietz, my sister and I are right where you were a few weeks ago. My dad has been brought back from the hospital to his assisted living facility and it’s only a matter of time now. There doesn’t seem to be anything specifically causing his decline, but he’s not interested in eating or drinking and I think he’s simply done. It’s been hard to watch this happy and amazingly intelligent man slip into fearfulness and paranoia. </p>
<p>He told me about 2 years ago – at the age of 94 – that it should be a crime to live this long. </p>
<p>^^^ My dad used to say the same thing! We found that these last few weeks gave us a lot of comfort. If I had to do it over again, I would carry a notebook with me and write down some of the things dad said…both while he was officially lucid…and while he was in what is known as terminal hallucinations.</p>
<p>So poignant. It is comforting through the hardest parts to know how someone thinks about the end of life.</p>
<p>I agree dietz199- I wish I had written down more things my mother said in the last year of her life. Her use of language changed over time, become very visual, poetic and ephemeral somehow. It was often both wise and elegant, but differed from her prior manner of speaking. And she wasn’t loopy, just seemed to be viewing things from another vantage point. You have inspired me to write down what I do remember- she has been gone 8 years. </p>
<p>Best to all. </p>
<p>From the NY Times New Old Age blog:
What Makes Older People Happy
<a href=“What Makes Older People Happy - The New York Times”>The New York Times - Breaking News, US News, World News and Videos;
<p>My Dad died yesterday and he’s at peace finally. So grateful he didn’t have a prolonged illness. </p>