Slipping, Sliding

Old Movies

Tonight is Saturday, March 21, 2020. Each Saturday evening we are typically graced by a gentleman who comes to the Lodge to share a DVD movie with any of us willing to cuddle up to our blankets to watch. He usually makes microwave popcorn. He smiles a good deal and he's gracious and sweet.

A few weeks ago before the movie was turned on he faced us from the front of the room and told us it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to make movie decisions and to find movies and to bring them to us.

Then two weeks ago, he couldn't independently recall how to make the equipment work. He had another gentleman escort him and assist setting things up. That didn't work well. The guest friend couldn't master the equipment either.

Last week  he came alone and then a staff member graciously had to come assist with getting the DVD system operating. He didn't say much. There was no popcorn, and he was quiet when it was over. We'd sat through the film, but a few of us, including myself, selfishly admitted it wasn't one of our best enjoyed movies (that was a first time for me to be disappointed). We must have broken his spirit, because he didn't come back this week. I could kick myself for not thanking him instead of adding to his insecurity.

I will admit, before he left the building last Saturday, I waddled to my room and brought him back a 6 pack of extra-buttery popcorn so he'd have some for tonight, without any cost involved. That must have added to his incredible discomfort.

He's been brain injured as an adult and his capacities, including his speech are dwindling. His decline has happened rather rapidly in recent months. I must write him a thank you note for all the Saturday evening's he's kindly invested with us.

TONIGHT - "A Coal Miner's Daughter" ( Loretta Lynn??)

A staff member set up our movie tonight. I'd arrived a bit late, sat down in the dark and initially arriving at a scene where "Loretty's" future husband drives his jeep like a maniac, I nearly left again because the volume was quite high (remember??? everyone else is quite deaf???). But, something drew me in. I could barely recall having seen it years ago, but the music and the intermittent realism, poverty and warmth of it triggered, unknown or identified at that moment,  tearful memories. Scenes slipped in and out of mental file folders.  None were secure.

When Loretta's father died, she was so far away from home and him/family. I was so grateful my father had been with me when he died. I nearly cried aloud for my Dad to be with me tonight. He probably was and still may be, yet tonight.

Her dad treasured her and loved her openly. My Dad used to call me his "Princess" but I can't remember his ever being warm and fuzzy. He didn't know how to be.

There was a scene of Loretta dropping her children off for her mother to care for. She and "Doo" (husband) were heading on the highway to promote her first ever record on the "zero" label (the first she'd written).

It wasn't until I was leaving at the end of the movie, and pushing the elevator button down, that I recalled my Mom had babysat my children - at least once.  Maybe more. I can't remember it happening. My youngest daughter has told me more than once, and that's not missing from my current filing system, that Grandma had been "mean" to her while I'd been away. Apparently my Mom had decided it was time to toilet train her, and did it the old fashioned way. Funny, my adult children say I do things the "old fashioned way" with their children.

What I did remember, while alone and riding briefly down in the elevator, was that my Mom, took me out ONCE on a Mother-Daughter date. She was always working evenings and I watched my brothers. But this once, she took me to the movie "The Ten Commandments." She slept through most of it. She must have been incredibly tired and it was a long movie.

But somewhere during the evening, she gave me a wrist watch. When I noticed, it was her watch, I can't recall how I dealt with that moment. She obviously couldn't afford to buy new... I don't remember what happened to the watch, but I also don't remember if I was grateful enough for her effort and sacrifice.

I'm so glad I went to that movie this evening, but I still feel tearful because some of those "once in a life-time memories" are gone. My dad's death in my apartment is still intact (three or four images) but all the memories of my mother and I, together, are gone. I can hear her singing as she worked. I know she demanded I do things "properly." I believe we were friends for a time during my teens, but now, I can't recall what that was like or  how it happened or what we shared.

I do recall when she sat mid day to have "a coffee and cigarette" and to read a book Even as I approached my teens, she was still so slender.  She would sit one leg over the other, then she could twist the top leg around the inside leg, readily. It is her only seated position I recall.

I am grateful for bits and pieces, and one day we'll reunite and we'll laugh about things that are only forgotten for TODAY!!!

Discernment, Executive Function and Love

Trusting My Faculties Is An Increasing Emotional Challenge

I've addressed previously my emotional response to life's events. Remember my R.C. M. P. adventure? Well, my crying, when I can't seem to come to grips with a situation, leaves me bereft for options, save waddling to my room and cocooning for hours or more than a day - usually including some tears.

I've had some incidents recently that have been trying... Here's one!

 The R.C.M.P. Again ...

Over each weekend in the Lodge, the resident numbers are the same, the meal delivery requirements don't change or simplify, YET the staffing levels drop noticeably. The Community Home Care Services are less (although all the health requirements are the same as weekdays save supervised bathing), the kitchen and dining area staff numbers decrease, and there are no maintenance/cleaning staff, unless an emergent  need arises (ie. my sleepy friend, one day turned on her kitchen tap, shifted her attention and when she regained awareness of the tap, the kitchen area floor, outside hallway, adjacent electrical room and her suite were drenched). That required both cleaning and maintenance to come to the rescue.

One of the residents is 93 yrs old. She's now in a wheelchair, she falls asleep in every area of the building, even at meals (head down in her food and hands in her meal and food remains all over her clothing) BUT, her mental health has also deteriorated. Her dementia has increased. She has vivid delusions and demands action upon what she believes (i.e. "my son is going to kill himself;" "we must call for water delivery or we won't have any water for the weekend;" "why won't anyone help me," she repeats her needs or claims loudly waving her arms in the air).

Lodge residents by and large are quite deaf, but her actions, as she moves around the dining area in a state of distress, cause considerable emotional discomfort and anxiety for many. They often leave their tables  and escape like cats scurrying (all using walkers, but moving more speedily than one might expect).

She's learned to see me as a resource person and will come toward me beckoning, to me for help. This weekend, events got out of hand, and the following story might prove insightful...

Our friend came out from her room, hair flying, arms waving and at times pulling at her clothing in distress. She moved toward me at my dining table and I jumped (like a duck) into action. I moved to her, brushed her long hair from her eyes, asked about her needs and she kept repeating, "he's going to commit suicide." At that announcement, I knew she needed more than a moment's redirection for attention. I gently turned her wheelchair away from my table (each table laden with a cloth and hot soup bowls atop)  to keep my associates safe from her unpredictable arm/hand motions.

I wheeled her to her room. Located her phone. We hit "call back" and she began speaking to someone. I stupidly imagined the caller would calm her and I returned to the dining room.

She came back out to find me, a couple of minutes later. Still upset and holding and waving her phone. I returned with her back to her room but didn't realize she had someone on the phone line. She told me to speak to who it was... To my surprise, she had called 911. An R.C.M.P. officer was on the line and he as trying to make sense out of her delusional, exclamatory ranting. I tried to explain events to the police, but the officer was trying to determine WHO WAS GOING TO COMMIT SUICIDE!!!.  I tried to relieve his mind and explained she was delusional, but he was required by law to write down the facts of WHO and pass it along.

I hunted all around her room, on walls, on cupboards, surfaces looking for her son's phone number. the she said... "Where is my flashlight?" I asked why she needed it. She responded so she could see her son's phone number. That totally bewildered me. Then she wheeled herself over to a small piece of furniture beside her phone desk and pointed to the sidewall of the small cupboard. There was her son's name and two phone numbers. Police still on the line, I shared both numbers and then the officer began questioning me. I had to locate her Do Not Recussitate ( sp?) Order, found it on her door to give the officer her birth date.

I responded to his questions and he said someone would be calling me thereafter.

Neglect, Abuse, Injurious...

I then, reassured her someone was going to check on her son, but that didn't entirely meet her delusional needs. I asked if she wanted to eat while she waited.  She followed me out, but then did not want to settle at her table. A well meaning, but truly incapable dining area staffer, arrived, with a glass dish and egg salad sandwich pieces and as I turned around from my table location, I witnessed the staff member shoving a sandwich portion in her mouth and immediately took our old friend back to her room.

I did not want to start a quarrel, nor a scene, and when my senior friend did not return to the dining area, I was so grateful.

Then I watched as the few remaining residents left their seats. I wanted to cry so badly, but I felt if I did some work (often I clear tables on weekends and evenings to assist limited staff), I might regain my composure.

I asked the woman (the sandwich pusher) if I could have the cleaning cart to allow me to clear the tables. Normally I just clean and stack dishes at each table and leave them for staff to clear away, but for some reason, I wanted the cart to give me more work to do.  I let her know the events had upset me and I needed to refocus and that work would help me do so.

She pulled out the cart, and refused to let me clear tables and said I should not worry about other residents, I ought to only take care of myself (which everyone else - I'm sorry to say, has learned to do).

I explained to her that my upbringing would never allow that self-directed focus. That I'd been taught to always help others. She became more frustrated and I tried to win her over (not a good choice on my part). As she began clearing the tables, watching me crying, I opening stated I was concerned about the resident. I said she needed more care and probably more medications until she could be moved to a more appropriate care facility (ours is a Level 1,2 and she's been diagnosed as needing a Level 4,5). She stated that was none of my business. My crying would not cease. 

As I moved more distant from the staffer, and continued to bawl, she said, "I hope you have a good evening." I responded, (again not a good thing to do - I obviously don't learn somethings quickly). 

"Please don't say that to me when I'm so upset," I said.

She quipped back,"I can say I hope you have a good evening, because I do hope that."

I became defensive, " You can think it if you like, but it hurts me terribly that I can be crying and you make that statement to me. You have not touched me, consoled me or been kind to me."

Once again, as I was turning away, she stated, "That's not my job. I hope you have a good evening."

That was it for me... My crying became more than I could control. 

I'm grateful for a sweet, gentle sister-in-law whom I felt impressed to call. I needed someone with compassion and understanding to help me de-escalate my emotions.

She reminded me not everyone has the same capacity for nurturing and gentleness, nor the awareness instinctively to react positively to the poor delusional resident. 

All her comments were toned softly, yet full of true awareness. I'm so grateful for her, so very grateful. 

AFTERMATH...

Two days later, the facility manager (who is not supposed to address details about residents with other residents, WHO KEEPS REMINDING ME SHE OUGHT NOT TO TELL ME ANYTHING) admitted, after I stopped to question her, that she and a CASE MANAGER for the woman, had spent time the day previous, addressing how they might have the woman moved for better care. She also stated a medication increase had been ordered before the weekend, but THE ORDER HAD NOT BEEN PROVIDED TO WEEKEND HEALTH CARE STAFF.

I want to say more, because my support for my elderly friend continues. I'm not stating this because I'm bragging, but because nothing has changed and it is only Thursday. 

My sandwich serving staffer was on again tonight. After dinner, she sat visiting with her mother (at her mothers dining sport) as I took a food item and spoon to a disabled gentleman. No!!! I'm not crazy, I just find something tells me when someone needs me and I try to follow-up as often as I can. On my way to his room to make the delivery of pudding and a spoon, I saw my elderly friend. She was bent over in her chair, head against the doorway, sound asleep. 

When I came back, I passed my sandwich lady, went to gain the assistance of another staffer and took her to the doorway. 

Nothing changes!!! "Oh, I can't assist her," said the new staffer, who called for the sandwich server to come. They both stood there and watched me move her out of her chair onto her bed. We all left the room, then suddenly I knew the poor woman had not been fed. I returned to her room, told her what I might find for her to eat and went to the snack area to get her some food. I helped her open a sandwich bag, and put pudding and a spoon beside her and left the room ... 

About twenty minutes later I felt compelled to leave MY room, go back to check on my friend and she had just decided she wanted a hot drink. I walked beside her wheelchair, got her settled at the snack table and made her hot chocolate, plus opened a package of two digestive biscuits. We chatted until another woman joined us and eventually, my friend became tired and returned to her room.

As a people watcher, and journalist, parent and special needs foster parent, as well as a retired executive for non-profits...
this is one of the hardest seasons of  my life!!! 

A few minutes later the Home Care staffer arrived for evening rounds. I told her my friend was waiting for her. The HmC-LPN seemed a bit annoyed at me. She entered the old woman's room, wasn't in their five minutes and came out and closed the door.

There was no way the poor older woman could have been changed, toileted, diapered and given pills in that short a time, plus put to bed, unless she'd been ?????? I asked the worker when she came closer and she said she'd "done all she wanted me to do!"

That was code for... 

IF SHE WANTS SOMETHING OR NEEDS SOMETHING, SHE SHOULD ASK!