The Results of Mom's Testing

fter several months of waiting for appointments, driving miles to get to them, and talking with doctors, we have finally found out the truth: there is nothing that we can do about Mom's memory problems. She doesn't have Alzheimer's, but the confusion that she's experiencing cannot be cured and will not go away.

We went to a neurologist in November and found out that the memory problems were not caused by her strokes. He sent us for neuropsychological testing. That testing happened in March. A week later, we found out there is absolutely nothing wrong with Mom'smemory Her memory is actually extraordinarily high for a person her age. Then, we went back to th neurologist , who really didn't tell us anything more than the neuropsychology guy did.  The only thing he did say was that Mom needs continual supervision.

And that's what we're here for. :)

Neuropsychological Testing

I had a lesson in communication with doctors this month. Always ask about follow-up, and make sure you understand who is going to contact whom. And don't be afraid to call for clarification.

Early in March, Mom had an appointment for neuropsychological testing. Previous to that, a neurologist determined that she doesn't have Alzheimer's Disease, nor are her memory impairments caused by the mild strokes she has had. This testing was supposed to tell us which part(s) of her brain aren't working properly.

Oddly enough, her memory is as far above normal for her age as a person with dementia is below normal.

So, what is wrong? We don't know, yet. And because of a misunderstanding between the doctor and myself, she can't get in for a follow-up until the end of June! The doctor who did the test said he would let the neurologist know his findings, and the neurologist would be in touch. After two weeks, I called the neurologist only to find out they had "told" me that I was supposed to schedule an appointment after her test. She is on the wait list, and I hope she can get in sooner.

Her appointment with the neurologist was in November. It took until March to get the testing appointment. Had I known I needed the follow-up and scheduled it in November, we could have gone almost directly from the testing to the follow-up with neurology.

I suppose it's a shortage of specialists in Big Town. I just wish they'd been clearer about the process. In the future, I will be more diligent.

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Ph.D in Housekeeping

The other day, Dad commented that I must have a Ph.D in housekeeping. At first, I was confused; of all the things I do for Mom and Dad, my least favorite, in which I also show the least competence, is cleaning. Well, I can clean, and actually don't mind scrubbing and dusting and the like. It's the clutter that gets me, and in the home of a hoarder, there is a lot of clutter! I get one area cleaned, move on to the next, and by the time I get back to the first area, it's filled in again.

Anyway, I soon realized Dad was telling another of his jokes when he told me the definition of this Ph.D: Pile it--Higher and Deeper!

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Riding the Rails

uite a bit of the work I do as The Eldersitter is, well, stressful. There are appointments to schedule and attend, medical histories to learn and commit to memory, lists of medication to manage, personalities to accommodate, meals to cook, laundry to wash, floors to clean, reminders to exercise to issue, hurt feelings from loss of abilities to salve, clothing to put on Mom, shoes to put on Dad--the list goes on and on.

But, there are a lot of wonderful things involved in eldersitting, not the least of which is having time to listen to stories of the past. Dad has been telling me lots of them, particularly when we are driving to doctor appointments. A couple of weeks ago, I heard the best one yet: that of Uncle riding the rails.

There used to be a railroad track that went right past my Grandma's back yard. Over the years, rail traffic in that area diminished to the point there was only one train each direction per day. Dad doesn't remember if it was then that Uncle did this stunt, or if it was after the trains stopped altogether but the tracks had not yet been removed. Uncle used to go for an unusual kind of joy ride.

Apparently, Uncle and his friends had figured out that if you had the right width vehicle and used bias ply tires with some of the air let out, you could drive along the railroad tracks without steering! (How much experimenting did they do before finding the right width vehicle and correct tire pressure is what I want to know!)

So anyway, Uncle would do this from time to time. In the dark. With the headlights off.

Once, he was riding the rails and decided to turn on his headlights--just as he was going over a bridge!! I don't know for sure, but I wouldn't be surprised if that was his last rail ride!

Recycled Teenagers

very once in awhile, Mom can be quite stubborn and bull headed.  (OK, every once in awhile? Who am I trying to kid? I just liked this "E" drop cap and had to find an opening word that started with "E"!)

We go to church twice on Sunday's. A couple of weeks ago, we came home from the afternoon service to an irate Dad. "Your mother fell again," he said as we walked through the door. "She fell cleaning up the mess you should have cleaned up."

I had been sick for 5 days. Saturday was the first day I was feeling better, but I still didn't want to spend much time upstairs, for fear of getting Mom or Dad sick. I had noticed there was something on the floor that needed to be cleaned up, but just didn't have the gumption to do it.

Mom knows she isn't supposed to lean over because her balance isn't good and she is prone to fall. But for some reason, she decided she just had to clean that mess up, at that time.

You guessed it. She fell.

She didn't get hurt badly, but she couldn't get up by herself. She asked Dad to bring a chair close to her so she could pull herself up. Instead, my 80+ year old Dad lifted her up from the floor and put her on a chair, straining his back.

I have a troubling tendency to blame myself for things that are other peoples' responsibility. It causes me a lot of anxiety and is one of the things I've been trying to change about myself. The mess she had insisted on cleaning up had happened while I was sick, and it sat there. Why couldn't she have asked Husband or Son to clean it up while I was out of commission? And why couldn't it have waited one more hour for us to get home? I was upset about the way Dad had blamed me for her fall, and I walked away and went downstairs. I didn't realize he had hurt himself. If I'd known, I would have understood that was the reason he was putting the blame on me, and I would have acted differently.

The next morning, he wanted to go to the chiropractor, so I called in. When the receptionist asked what he needed to be seen for, I didn't want to gripe about them harshly, yet I didn't want to make excuses for them and take the blame myself, so I decided to reference an old joke of Dad's. When he was about 60, he liked to tell people he was a Recycled Teenager. So, I told her that I live with a couple of Recycled Teenagers who like to be rebellious sometimes.

I think Dad appreciated my use of his joke.

Long Time No Post!

ikes! Has it been that long since I last posted?!?

Sorry, folks. Things have been crazy busy. I was sick for the better part of a week (stomach flu or food poisoning, not sure which). Then, about a week later, Husband and Son were sick with the stomach flu. Fortunately, we were able to isolate ourselves from the Elders, and neither of them got sick. I can't imagine how awful it would have been for them if they'd had the violent vomiting and overall achiness that we had.

Since my last post, there was an issue with the recycled teenagers. I'll post about that next time. That incident led to Dad having a backache, so he's had chiropractor appointments 2-3 times a week. Add that to Mom's physical therapy once or twice a week and the other appointments Dad has for his chronic pain and abdominal issues, and I spend a lot of time driving them to appointments--almost every week day, plus one Saturday Dad had to go to urgent care for bronchitis.

One good thing that has kept me from blogging is that I've been doing a much better time taking care of myself. Remember, sustaining the sitter's sanity is one of the most important aspects of eldersitting. I found a show I like to watch on Netflix. I went to the cosmetology school for a haircut and found out their prices are so reasonable, even I can afford to treat myself once a week. The depression/anxiety medication has kicked in, and I can once again concentrate to read a book. And, I'm writing a book myself (a training book for the computer classes I teach).

Additionally, Husband and I are meeting with our pastor for counseling. This is a very stressful situation we're living in, and while I have no regrets, we need to do some work on maintaining our relationship to ensure we don't eventually rue the day we moved here.

So, I've been busy. But, I miss posting, too, and I'm going make an effort to do a lot more of it!

A Near-Death Experience

sually, Mom is up before I am in the mornings. Generally, she wakes up at 7:00. I get up at 7:30, to make sure my son gets off to school and to start or help with breakfast. This morning, I was surprised, at first, to find that she wasn't up. Then, I was terrified.

Did she die in her sleep?

My son and I commented to each other that it was strange she wasn't up. We walked down the hall and peeked into their bedroom. They were both completely still. I decided I should wait until after Son got on the bus before I checked further. He left at 7:55; I decided to wait until 8:00 to check.

Yes, I was scared to look. Wouldn't you be?

Thoughts ran through my fear-ridden mind. What happened yesterday? Did we fight? Was it a good last day, if it was her last day? Looking back, I realized it was. We didn't fight. She got to see my younger Sister. We played some games together. It was a good day.

At 7:58, I heard her close the bathroom door. What relief! She is still alive!

I talked to my husband about it later in the morning. He made two important points:

1. Whom would it be bad for if her last day on earth wasn't good?
   
   Me, of course. She will be in heaven.
2. She could live for 10 or more years, yet. If I try to make sure every day is a good one, it will drive me nuts!
   
   Sure. But I'm not meaning I need to make every day good; I just need to make sure I'm doing whatever I can to not make her days bad.

Death. It's a reality I know I need to face, but one that I am not looking foward to.