Recently in Family Category

My parents are getting old, and old age is not pretty.

My mother has had Alzheimer disease or another form of progressive denile dementia for about 5 or 6 years, although it took some time for her physician to learn all the symptoms - my mother thought that it was in her interest to minimize her symptoms. She has been a mistress of denial, and my father was a co-dependent in her efforts to resist interventions.

I visited Winnipeg from October 3 to October 12. My father was tired, my sisters were concerned. Her needs were beyond my father's capability and have been for some time. My father has tried to enjoy the good moments, and has been concerned that if her demented behavior was admitted, she would have to be monitored closely and sedated and restrained. He has kept home care out and aided her in her efforts to fool the people who might arrange for care - under conditions that he does not think are good enough. His judgments have been loving, but risky.

The week after I returned, my sisters realized that her complaints about some bowel trouble were serious and had her admitted to hospital. She had developed a rectal prolapse. The prolapse itself is apparently inoperable. Over the first few days of November, my father thought another doctor thought that there might be partial blockage of the lower large intestine, which has been causing the straining that causes the prolapse. This presented the possibility of surgery for the blockage and some relief for the prolapse. The idea that she might have surgery has energized my father. He hopes she might come home. He accepted the idea that they might accept some home care though. [Updated - Nov. 10/07. My father misunderstood the medical information. The hospital had ordered a colonoscopy to assess the damage, not to look for blockages. There was no prospect of any relief of the prolapse].

My mother also had pneumonia when she went to hospital. She has had asthma for decades and she has become accustomed to using an inhaler when she is short of breath. She gets short of breath when she is anxious, then used the puffer. This accelerates her heart, which make her anxious, which lead to more use of the puffer - especially since she doesn't remember she has been using it or realize that she is overdosing. The hospital has tried to restrict her use of the puffer. My father apparently gives it to her when the nurses are not around to relieve her distress.

The prolapse cannot be managed by an Alzheimer patient who doesn't remember why she is in pain. She has been in hospital, and can't go home again. She is calm most of the time, but becomes agitated and wants to go home. My father is full of anxiety. Over the last few weeks he has been occupied with worrying about my mother. My sisters and sister in law have been working hard to arrange transportation to the hospital and get meals delivered to him at the hospital, and to take care of him during this stage.

My sisters and brothers are doing their best to help him make the decisions that will let him know that she is getting care, and to let go of the idea that he can protect her independence. We can hope for decency, dignity and respect.

[Updated Sat. Nov. 10/07. On Friday (Nov. 9), my father agreed to sign the forms to admit my mother to a nursing home and to get some home care services for himself, to let him stay at home before his own health deteriorates further].

Dad and I attended the Alzheimer Society workshop, called Living with Alzheimer Disease, on September 24 and Saturday October 1. It was scheduled for 10 hours over the two days, divided into 6 presentations or workshops. Dad and I went to all three sessions the first day and one session the second day. I had coffee with him and discussed the workshops. We got package of printed material which included printed versions of the Powerpoint slides that some of the presenters used, and some other literature. I picked up other fact sheets, booklets and pamphlets. In the presentation and literature the person with the illness is generally identified as the person or individual, and sometimes as the patient. For social services, the person with the illness is the client.

My mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer Disease just before Christmas last year. She has been showing short-term memory loss, losing track of what she is doing and acting erratically for the last two to four years. My father has been trying to manage on his own and has been resisting involving the provincial Home Care program. He says Mom made him promise not to "lock her" up in a nursing home, and he has been respecting her wishes. In the last few months she has started to wander, and has become increasingly paranoid and agitated. He has also mentioned a couple of episodes when she became angry and hit him. He has been keeping information to himself, and has only recently started to share his concerns.

My sister Teresa asked me to help to convince him to attend a care planning workshop with the Alzheimer Society (AS), and I went with him. This was, obviously, an intervention. The work and the worry have been wearing him down, and her symptoms have been getting worse. He can't manage the disease. He can't reason with Mom - he never could. He doesn't like the message that she is ill to the point of being crazy. She is losing control. He needs someone independent to help him see that it isn't personal. He is going to live through some bad days, but may be able to minimize them and still have some good days.

Dave is 18 today, and it has been more than two years since he ran away. I stopped writing about him in February. I stopped bargaining with him. I stopped responding to his demands and requests. I stopped trying to give him advice.

Claire turned 20 today. I continue to be amazed by her intellect and her talent, impressed by her increasing maturity and self-reliance. She has witnessed and tolerated my ups and downs for the last year. I love her dearly.

[Originally posted in Rise Again].

I haven't posted in Rise Again since August. I used to post the news about Dave here, but in September 2004 I started to post the news about Dave in my public blog, A Sea of Flowers. If Dave stays addicted, he will probably not care about my having written about him. If he gets better, he may not want to be reminded about his story, but it won't hurt him.

I am frustrated with Dave's situation. He has been able to bend so many situations to his advantage, and he seems to keep avoiding the consequences of his actions. I have helped to guard him against some of them myself and I have been reading some of my old posts with dismay. I have seen the problem and I have seen how useless I have been at helping Dave, and how has manipulated me, again and again, but I keep trying to help, and I keep repeating my mistakes.

All the other players in the system keep putting the responsibility for getting Dave into drug treatment on Dave. I keep hearing that no treatment program will have him until he is "ready" but I wonder if that isn't an excuse to avoid having to work with him. No one seems to want to take hold of Dave and work with him. I also keep hearing that the treatment resources for amphetimine addiction are simply not there. I would like to just get him off the street, get him away from the drug and get him working on his own recovery. I can't do it because I can't hold him or lock him up, and because he doesn't keep his promises when he lives with me.

Over the last two weeks my relationship with Dave has been reduced to picking him up, driving him around, buying him a few meals, and buying tobacco, groceries and few other articles to make his life at the Salvation Army a little easier. He has not been able to give up drugs and he is still avoiding drug treatment. He continues to ask me for resources while lying about his addiction and his plans to deal with it. Today (February 8) I told Dave that I was not going to keep meeting him and buying things for him while he is avoiding drug treatment. I finished a conversation that we have been having over the last few weeks.

Getting back to Dave, and his latest stay in the hospital, here's the rest of the story of the days between the start of his breakdown and his discharge from the psychiatric unit.

I haven't finished the story of Dave's admission to the hospital last Friday, or the story of his time in the hospital. I will leave that for another day and just skip to the news today (Thursday January 27).

Claire doesn't get a lot of space in my blog. She's succeeding in school, learning and growing. It isn't all rosy. She feels anxiety and stress, but I see her life flourishing.

She has been co-writing a play with her friends Caitlin and Jamie, and they applied to produce the play at the 2005 Winnipeg Fringe Festival. They call themselves the Angry at Apples Company. The play doesn't have a name yet. I don't understand the rules, and it involves a lottery. They were drawn yesterday, and they are in. Claire is planning to take credit as a co-writer, and to produce and stage-manage the play. As I understand it, she is not planning to act. I don't know much about the play, and Claire isn't talking. But she hasn't had the Spanish Inquisition yet. I don't know if she expects the Spanish Inquisition ...