Why can't the care be better?

Bomb scare up the block
August, Wauwatosa Now

One of my better news pictures. Anybody see "The Hurt Locker"? The robot at left planted a small explosive on the site (surrounded by the orange sand bags). They detonated it remotely, and while the small explosive went off, nothing else. It was a just an empty piece of pipe with caps on both ends. It might have cost $100,000 just to find out everything was fine.

I got today off -- no Mom -- thanks to a visit from Sister L. The sisters have been steady visitors, and even more frequently since the broken hip. Much appreciated.

Just a quick update, I guess.

She continues to fall, trying all the time to stand and walk. If she breaks another hip, that, I think, would be the end. They keep her in the penalty box when she's at large, and I went the other day about 6:30 p.m. and found her there, by the lounge near the elevators. She was quaking with fatigue, her face stretched and her eyes half-closed. I asked the aide why she was there, why she hadn't been taken to bed, and the aide said she was alone -- watching two others -- and that the other girls were dealing with a new resident and it took both of them to lift him.

Then the tall burly aide -- one of the few men -- came by, and Mom said, "He can help, he can help," and the guy says "No no no! It's my dinner time!" and sallies off. The asshole. Anyway, I was there and I took her to her room. She complained that they hadn't let her go to the bathroom, and so I got her on the toilet and found her disposable underpants totally soaked.

Is it so hard, really, to afford these people a little dignity?

I cleaned her up, and an aide came to help get her changed and into bed. I took the elevator to the first floor, and then, seething, went right back up and told the aides (there were three there now) that it was unacceptable just to keep her waiting there when she was so plainly exhausted, and when she hadn't gone to the bathroom in way too long, having to go right there where she sat. The aides said, they were tied up with the new resident, the one had to watch the three residents watching TV, and so on.

"She's paying for care. I'm just very disappointed," I said. She was so much better off up in Cranberry.

This prompted Julie and me to discuss moving her somewhere closer by, where the full-care wing is thought to be better. There's a place just a block away, and if she were there, it would easy to visit almost daily. I didn't want her that close when this started -- back then, she'd have been walking over to our house all the time. It would have been awful. It's different now. But then, I think, to move her, when already her sense of place is so confused? And she does have friends where she is. There are no easy answers. Nothing about this is easy.

We have hired a private aide to come three times a week and spend the afternoon with her. She is Deb. The first two days she came, we had her scheduled from noon to three. So, she would eat with Mom, then Mom would take a nap and she'd watch her sleep. So we're changing it to 1:30 to 4:30, so the nap would be over. She'll still nap, but maybe not so much.

Napping, napping, napping. It is a way of checking out. My dad, near the end, took long naps, and slept long, long nights. It seemed like it was the only time he was fully himself. Sleeping is sleeping, I'm pretty sure, whether your mind is sound or not.