Peaceful

Posted on October 28, 2021 by Christine

My dad has been residing in an assisted living for over two years, and it’s been an adjustment for both of us. For the first few months he was there, he was given a temporary unit for rent on the third floor while he waited for his permanent apartment to be repainted and freshly carpeted.

During that time, it was chaotic. I never knew what I was going to walk into when I went to visit. The place isn’t that big, but he never stayed stationary and traveled from floor to floor, making it difficult to locate him. One day, I needed his signature on a document. I am his power of attorney, so I go over everything with him and involve him as long as he can comprehend. This is a way for him not to feel that he has lost his independence entirely.

I was in a hurry, and it was approaching his evening meal. I asked the staff where he was, and I was told he was on the second floor, so I went there. No luck.

At that time of day, the line for the elevator is long, and I am able-bodied, so I always take the back stairwells for speed.

“I think I saw him on the third floor,” said another helper.

“Ok.”

Up a flight, I walked the halls that were like a ghost town.

How can one man who is slow as a snail be so elusive?

Another staff person said she saw him on second floor. Even though I had just been there, I tried it again. And got the same result.

Back to the stairs, I came down to first where I had started. I searched the lobby, both community rooms, and looked around the back of the building where he would sit to get fresh air.

Where’s Waldo had nothing on this guy.

I walked back to the elevator, where the crowd was thick with those waiting for assistance. It was wall to wall wheelchairs and walkers. I thought I would go back up to his apartment for one last glance, but in the meantime, I stood in the corner out of the way.

I also figured if I stopped looking, my moving target might eventually run into me.

The doors opened, and one of the aides pushed him out and right past me like I was invisible! He nodded and smiled at me on his way by like he was a king greeting one of the underlings.

He had a cookie in one hand and a styrofoam cup of milk in the other. He couldn’t hear me, and she didn’t speak English very well, so they kept on moving as I tried to fight my way past the throng.

I was on my tiptoes trying to get to him while dodging the masses. He was happily enjoying his ride. This person had just been driving a car on a revoked license two months prior, gripping on to his keys and driving privileges like a mad man and now was too busy with both hands full, slurping down snacks with an escort into the dining room.

My only advantage in apprehending him was that they got stuck in the hallway.

I put my hand on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He looked up at me.

“When did you get here?”

“A while ago. Where have you been? I went to every floor.”

“Oh, she took me floor to floor. I have been riding on the elevator.”

“Why are you letting someone else push your wheelchair? Why are you not using your walker?”

He took this moment to chomp a bite off of his cookie and said,

“I don’t know.”

“You need to walk, and you need to use your leg muscles every day.”

“I know. I know,” he said like a rebellious teen, sucking down milk. Role reversal had happened somewhere along the way.

“I realize I am interrupting your busy schedule and your worldwide tour, but I need you to sign something.”

Right as I said that, she started pushing him forward away from me like a programmed machine. I stopped her and said,

“He’s coming with me. I will get him in there in a minute.”

It wasn’t like he would starve as I saw him take another cookie out of his shirt pocket.

I have had calls from him at 1 am, asking me what I’m doing, so we talk like it’s the middle of the afternoon.

“Do you know it’s almost 2 in the morning?” I will ask.

“It is?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you up, Chris?”

“Because you called me?”

“Oh,” and then the laugh.

He has no idea some of the stress and poor communication that I have faced on his behalf. But I don’t want him to know. He has given up everything he knew as familiar to be in a safer place like he should be. I have had to straighten up wrong billing, confront staff who haven’t always been attentive, and run errands when I would rather not.

“Chris, I have no Kleenex left, and they just gave me my last Tylenol. I’m going to need more in the morning.”

This was at 9:30 pm, with all stores closing at 10 pm during the shutdown and limited hours. And it was pouring rain.

“I hate to bother you with this.”

I had just finally sat down for a second.

“I will get it. Don’t worry.”

I can never leave him stranded, no matter what.

For weeks he had been telling me that he wanted a new bed. The one he was using had formed a crater in the middle so deep that he would get stuck if he rolled into it.

I ordered a new mattress for him. It showed up unexpectedly on Christmas Eve, and I set it all up. With his apartment at a scorching 100 degrees, I was an absolute sweaty mess, ripping apart the old one. He was thrilled to get it so his back wouldn’t hurt anymore. As soon as it was put together with the new sheets and the comforter I had gotten, he laid on it and immediately drifted off while I continued to battle the old one.

Once the activities started back up again after the lockdown, he made an effort to go. Reading over the schedule, he said,

“I will not go to Bingo.”

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“The lady who does it runs a tight ship. She scares me, and one of her arms is bigger than my legs, so you don’t mess with her.”

This was the man who was in a street gang at the age of 12 with a lead filled baseball bat on a chain and served in the military as a sergeant, but one woman calling numbers put the fear of God in him.

“She is scary, Chris. I stay clear of her.”

When the activity director asked him one day if he wanted to attend a different event, he inquired,

“Does this include beer and women?”

I shook my head.

“Do you see me standing right here? Do you see your daughter? Do you see me?”

“I see you,” he said, looking at me. “What about it?”

“And you realize my hearing is the best ever, right?” I asked.

He looked back at the activity lady.

“So, is there going to be beer and women?”

I went with him to chaperone, and I got looked up and down like he had found me off of Eharmony. I announced that I was his child so they all could relax, and I wasn’t in the competition. After half of a can of beer, he said,

“Where do I live again?”

I had to help him back to his apartment.

“I shouldn’t drink during the day,” he said.

“Maybe you shouldn’t ever if you can’t get yourself down one hallway.”

I don’t know if he heard me because he was dozing off.

When I saw that it was on the schedule to decorate pumpkins, I told him he needed to go.

“What? No, I’m not going to that!”

“I think you are.”

“Why would I go do that?” He put his finger by the side of his head and swirled it in a circle. This is his universal sign that going there was for those who had lost their minds.

I’m not above using the tricks my mom used to employ to get him to comply.

“You need to go do this, and I will take it home with me. I want you to do it for me.”

I saw the switch go off. The old ways still worked.

“Will they give me a knife?”

“Do you really think they are going to give you a sharp object?” I pretended to stab myself in the side of the neck.

His eyes always get big behind his glasses when he is processing.

“I suppose not,” he said, laughing. “That might be a bad idea around this place.”

Not giving him a choice, I took him, and a pumpkin was set in front of him with a paintbrush and paint.

“I gave up a good nap for this?”

“Yes. You did. Get to work on it.”

For someone who didn’t want to be there, he put in all his effort. He used to draw all the time, but his hands shake now, so it was more difficult. He was concentrating.

The person next to him tried to ask him a question at one point, and he said,

“Don’t bother me. I am busy.”

When he was done with it, he commented,

“I think the teeth make the whole thing.”

“I am assuming this isn’t a self-portrait, right?” I asked with a smile.

He laughed.

“What am I going to do with that?”

“I’m taking it with me.”

“Good riddance. Get it out of here! But thank you for coming to see me.”

“Even if you missed a nap?”

“I don’t nap.”

From moment to moment, I don’t know what he will remember or try to comprehend, so I’m very patient and protective over him. At one point, I didn’t know if I would ever speak to him again, but now it’s as if it never happened. I realized that I have been living this from Exodus 20:12:

“Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you.”

Without God, it wouldn’t have come back together in the way that it has. People who knew me a few years ago while I was on my anger induced year and a half sabbatical from my parents are astonished at the turnaround of where he and I are now.

It speaks to the mysterious ways we don’t always understand, working for the best on our behalf if we allow it. When you think everything is beyond hope, God can prove to you this from Matthew 19:26:

“With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”(NIV)

Adding to that is Psalm 23:2 that says:

He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside quiet waters. (NIV)

Something that was once ripped to shreds and full of strife can be made peaceful.

Shortcuts

Posted on October 3, 2021 by Christine

When I visit my dad at his apartment, I never know what I will stumble upon. I was completely shut out from seeing him from March to September of 2020 due to Covid restrictions. I had to drop off items he had requested at the front door and wave to him through the window. Soon, I noticed he wasn’t in the lobby anymore, and when I tried to call him, he wouldn’t answer his phone. At times, my only communication was with the staff, who told me he was sleeping a lot and staying secluded. All activities had been stopped, and all meals were delivered to him.

I wondered how many hours a day he was sleeping. It wasn’t easy because when he went to live there in 2019, the help was a bit touch and go. I was astonished at the lack of accountability since I had a background in long-term care. We had to document every incident and follow up with one meeting after another.

Not so much with this place. It was like the Wild West of senior living with no rules and a somewhat fend for yourself environment.

So the lockdown wasn’t the most ideal. Once I jumped through multiple miscommunications, I was allowed to return as one of his essential caregivers. My suspicions of him sleeping all day and up all night were accurate. Every time I arrived in the mid-morning, he was still in bed with breakfast sitting on his table. He had lost all track of time. When I would say,

“Why are you still sleeping?” He would tell me there was no reason to get up.

The first time I went back in, I was thankful I had a mask in my possession. I don’t think his bedding had been washed that entire time, and housekeeping looked like they abandoned ship. I spent my time cleaning, scrubbing, and getting him to wake up.

His appearance had changed to resemble Rip Van Winkle with a beard flowing. It took a lot of effort to reverse the psychological effects this isolation had done to him.

His meals were still being dropped off to him during that time, so one day while I was there, two of the workers from the kitchen came in and asked him what his preferences were. He is highly deaf in both ears and reads lips, so their masks made it challenging for him to comprehend what was said.

“What?” He asked, leaning forward.

“What do you want for lunch?” one of them asked.

“What?”

I pulled my face covering off so he could see my mouth.

“They want to know what you want for lunch.”

“Oh! What do you have?”

The one who had tried to ask the first time said,

“Do you want fish?”

“What?”

“Fish!”

She proceeded to take both of her hands in front of her to create a fin-like visual, and she moved her hips in a side-to-side motion. She was doing the best charade game of her life to try to get her point across.

He frowned deeply and leaned forward more, trying to comprehend her movements. I did not attempt to interrupt his interpretation as she continued to demonstrate while he pondered. I saw a lightbulb go off.

“Snake? We are having snake for lunch?”

His eyes were huge at the thought. He had just been telling me how much the place was going downhill.

She dropped her hands, exasperated.

“Fish!” I said, stepping in to help.

“Fish? That fish looked just like a snake!”

Recently, there was another Covid scare, so I was not permitted to see him for a couple of weeks. I worried he would slip back to his old habits because he was once again under total quarantine.

It didn’t take long for the facial hair to grow again and the sleeping in to start. When I went in the other day to surveillance his place, I found a pair of summer shorts cut in half. I just stood there holding them up, trying to figure out what in the world had happened.

I brought them before his eyes.

“What happened to these?”

“I had to cut myself out of them.”

I took a second to take that in. He cut himself out of his pants.

“I know I should move on, but I have to know..why? I just bought you these. Why did you do this?”

“I was stuck in them.”

I’m a very visual person, so I tried my hardest to develop a good image of why this had occurred. Nothing was coming.

“I was honest to God stuck in them, and I had to get out of a bad situation, Chris.”

I thought maybe a third try at it would clear the muddy waters, but it didn’t.

“So, instead of pushing your pendant for assistance, you grabbed a pair of scissors and cut off your pants?”

“Yes.” He said it like this was an everyday thing to do.

We both just stared at each other. I was at a loss for words. Of all the circumstances I have been in with this man, this by far had hit the top of the list.

I always treat him with respect, even if what he is telling me is so off the wall or not even close to the truth.

“I’m just trying to understand. Were you throwing a wild party and just decided to live freely? I don’t get this.”

He started laughing.

“No, I didn’t have a party. Are you crazy? I’m an old man! I was trapped in those and had to get out of them!”

Oh, my gosh! He could talk in circles for days on end! And he called ME crazy? I was not the one with a pair of shorts with a slit up the side like an evening gown.

“I think you wanted to show your leg off more on that side.” He laughed again. “Or were you needing an apron for the kitchen?” I turned them around and bunched up the material across my waist. The two pockets on each side were perfect.

“I still don’t get it. Why did you not ask for help?”

“Because they are busy here, and I didn’t want to bother anyone. I was struggling, and I figured I could do it myself.”

“Well,” I said, fanning them out, “you did.”

“You have gotten me a lot of those. I have at least seven pairs. Well, now maybe six.”

“Where were you when this all took place?”

His memory is getting worse, so he attempted to piece it all together.

“Were you in your bathroom?”

“I think so. They got caught on the side of the wheelchair, and I was stuck like that for a while.”

Now the story was all coming back to him.

“I tried to get myself free by pulling on them, but it wasn’t working. I saw the scissors on the sink, so I got myself out of prison.”

While it made me feel bad for him, I couldn’t help laughing. Which he then did too.

It reminded me of that part from Planes, Trains, and Automobiles where John Candy gets his arms stuck in his seatbelt while driving.

And the more I thought about it, the more I laughed.

“I don’t know what goes on around here. I will buy you another pair.”

“I won’t be having an encore performance. That’s it for this lifetime.”

No matter how much I have tried to tell him to call for help, he stubbornly refuses and decides he is the master of his fate.

And it makes me wonder, where am I not getting help? I don’t want to be a burden, so I often do it myself and keep quiet. But are we supposed to do that all the time? Don’t we have help available to us?

My dad must have forgotten all about Psalm 91:15 that says,

He will call on me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.

We wear an invisible call button that when we request assistance, it has been promised that help will come. Far too often, we do it alone and exhaust all options before we ask. We might end up fashioning our solution, which will never match the help of heaven. The more we don’t ask, the easier it gets until we forget that we can.

His tattered and torn pair of pants destined for the trash is a great reminder that we aren’t supposed to take any shortcuts.

(My witty daughter saw the brand name and said, “He’s just living up to what the tag says..No Boundaries.” Where does she get it? Hmm..)

Vain Train

Posted on September 12, 2021September 12, 2021 by Christine

In 2019, I was in a dark place. Looking back, I think various circumstances triggered this, including the separation between my parents and myself. At the time, they lived about five minutes from me. Both were deteriorating, and it was pretty apparent that they should not have been living in their home independently. Neither of them would surrender their post. In 2018, my dad had lost his privilege to drive.

Months before his driving exam ordered by the doctor, he had told me that he would move out of their home and into an assisted living if he failed the test. He promised me beyond a doubt that he would do this. My mom gave up her license without a fight because, on some level, she realized she couldn’t manage this skill. At that point, he was running out doing errands every day for the two of them.

The day of the test came, and he was confident he would get through it with flying colors. I didn’t because he had taken me on a hair-raising scary ride just before that. He kept confusing the gas pedal for the brake. And as I suspected, he failed every single component. I felt terrible when he arrived back home looking defeated.

The sympathetic side decided I would help him out until they moved into a new, safe environment. After all, he had told me that he would not continue to live like they were if he didn’t pass. I had told him to call me if he needed something, and I agreed to get him to the stores he liked to frequent. I rearranged my work schedule to make this possible. So began my job as his chauffeur, and when I asked about moving out, the conversation went from looking into it to an absolute no.

When I realized he wasn’t going to give in and make some changes, I began the hunt for a driving service he could use. Interestingly, my daughter discovered GO GO Grandparent, a company specifically designed for those who need rides, especially older adults. There was much grumbling about this at first, but then I started getting the texts he didn’t know I signed up for, indicating he was calling for assistance. That seemed to be going along well, coupled with my help for shopping trips.

The months were slipping by, and there was still no indication that either one of them was going to give up their stance and find other living arrangements. During this, I made a stop at my credit union. The teller greeted me and said,

“Oh, I just saw your dad.”

“He must have called for a ride,” I said.

I pulled out my phone and saw no alert that a car had been summoned. When I looked back up, her lips were twisted into a strange shape. The song by Fleetwood Mac, Tell Me Lies, Tell Me, Sweet Little Lies, began to play on the overhead speaker above me. Coincidence? I think not.

“Uh, well….”

“Did you see a driver pull up, or did he drive his car?”

“UH…” Again with the face contortions. She knew he was not to be driving as I had told her this previously. The bank was a daily stop for him, and the staff all knew him quite well. At that moment, I realized I was being played. He had told me over and over he had not been driving. I believed him and hadn’t had the heart to remove the car so soon.

I just nodded at her and glanced over at my daughter. Back in the car, a tracking device was purchased online. I decided not to accuse him and hear more of his deceit, but I would catch him in the act. I called the police department to ask if this was illegal, and I was told it wasn’t technically okay, but if it were being done to stop harm to the community, it could be overlooked.

He had been asking me to take his vehicle on our trips out together, so the next day, I told him we would do that. His first request was to stop at a hardware store. My daughter stayed back and placed the device in the backseat. We finished up our outing and returned home to watch the app on her phone. His conscience must have been bothering him because I got a text requesting a driver. I started to wonder if I had jumped to the wrong conclusion. I hadn’t.

A few days later, a notification came up showing his location. Feeling anger like I hadn’t ever felt before, I got in my car and parked right next to his at a store. We always went out on Fridays together, so why was he doing this on a Thursday? What was so important that he needed a day before going with me?

I found him in an aisle, and I pretended we had stumbled into each other. I wanted to see how far he would keep up the act.

“What are you doing here?” He asked in total surprise. “I thought you were babysitting on Thursdays.”

Wow. He had even planned this according to the schedule he thought I had.

“I had to come to pick up something. How did you get here?”

“I called for a ride.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you did. I am parked by your car. You drove here, and you aren’t supposed to be driving.”

This was when he tried to get past me in his motorized cart. He was done listening or talking to me. Not moving out of his way, I said,

“You lost your license to drive. The doctor took it away. If you come home with me, I won’t call the police if you agree never to do this again. Otherwise, I am reporting you.”

I was so hopeful that he would cooperate, but that’s not how it went. He told me to get out of his life, and I called the local police station.

Before the officer arrived, my dad was back at his car with me standing guard next to it. He wanted me to move so he could drive away, and I told him no. Then, he was willing to let me take him home now that he saw he had pushed past the point of no return. I stood my ground all the more and told him we would let a third party decide what to do.

To my horror, his license was run through the system, and it showed it was still valid. The physician had not taken the time to revoke it through the state. All I could do was stand there while he smiled at me to indicate he had won. I walked away from him and didn’t look back for a year and a half.

I would see him driving from time to time, and I found out that no matter how often his doctor was told about this, she failed to follow through. He told family members he was taking ‘back roads’ to be safe. I saw him on more than one occasion speeding down a heavily trafficked road during rush hour. When I would hear sirens in the neighborhood, I would wonder if he had caused an accident, and I silently vowed to testify against him in court. At the same time, I worried that I was an awful daughter.

This anger and depression combined created hopelessness in me. I had internalized my parents’ behavior as a sign that they never really loved me at all. Their unwillingness to trust my judgment revealed years of stubborn thinking and hard-heartedness. Then I began to think of all the times I had allowed so many people to treat me like this. I started to convince myself that life had no meaning, which led me to have thoughts of not wanting to be here anymore. I would ask God to send a train to hit my car as I crossed the tracks while driving home from work every day. I couldn’t bring myself to take myself out, but I knew He could do it.

In May of 2019, my mom went into the hospital unresponsive. She ended up in hospice at home. (The repair of my relationship with both of them began then, and that’s another story for another day.) While lying with her eyes closed, I saw her stirring. I walked over and leaned down close to let her know I was there.

She opened her eyes, and they focused directly on mine.

“Are you here in vain?”

The tone was not her voice. It penetrated my entire chest and felt like a physical blow. I heard what she had said, but I leaned in more and said,

“What did you say?”

Very physically weak but determined, she emphatically said,

“Are. You. Here. In. Vain?”

These dark, black eyes were looking for an answer. I felt myself swallow hard as I was faced with an ugly truth.

Somehow my thoughts of wanting to end my existence were being exposed. My big secret was coming out to confront me. How could that be when I hadn’t told anyone?

Quickly, I said, “No.”

She put her head back down on the pillow, closed her eyes, and quietly said,

“Good.” And back off to sleep she went.

In that split second, I realized that I didn’t want to have an attitude of living just for myself. If I no longer existed, what would I miss out on? What future person could I not go on to bless if I wasn’t around? I didn’t want to carry on my parent’s legacy of selfishness. I realized I was still here for a reason, and I was only accountable to God.

Romans 14 states: It’s God we are answerable to-all the way from life to death and everything in between-not each other. (Message)

I let my parents’ poor, selfish decision-making make me feel unworthy, and my reaction was to turn inward to self in a different way. Keep God the focus of your life, listen to the leading of that still small voice and do what it says. This will keep you from buying a ticket to ride the vain train.