The following is quoted ( some paraphrasing) from some journaling I did the other night while on vacation at a Bed and Breakfast in Arkansas. We had spent a wonderful evening with some dear friends on the trip there.  It was our first night at the B&B. (Let me apologize in advance for the graphic detail – it seemed the only way to explain the challenges of caregiving.) It is a follow-up on my last post on travel preparations:

Ask me now if I would sound so bold and courageous about traveling! It is 3:35am. Mary Ann has had a usual middle of the night need to go to the bathroom. I got her into the transfer chair by the bed and rolled her as far into the bathroom as I could and transfered her to the toilet stool. Pants needed to be changed. That task involved the use of one of those flimsy plastic bags that refuses to open or stay opened to put the completely soaked pad (generic Depends) in. While sitting on the stool, she fainted (low blood pressure due to the Parkinson’s and medication side effects). She was out for two or three minutes while I held her on the stool – no easy task since at that point she is dead weight.

She came around enough to get her to stand up. While I was getting pad and pajamas back in place, she went out again. This time it was a major challenge. As light as she is, holding her up in a standing position when she is cannot assist is beyond the strength in this little sixty-six year old body. I tried to get her twisted around and on to the transfer chair. She slipped off on to the floor. Picking her up from the hard ceramic tile floor put my back in danger of damage. There were no other options that were available. I pulled her up and managed to get her into the transfer chair. I tried very hard to use my legs rather than back, since damaging my back would sabotage our system of survival.   There was a painful twinge.

When finally she was in transfer chair she was still not fully awake. The low BP leaves her brain an without adequate blood supply, so she is often minimally responsive after a major fainting spell. Since the bed was particularly high, getting her into bed so that she did not slide back on to the floor was difficult. I finally got her on the bed, twisted her into position, adjusted her on to her side and she is now secure and sleeping.

On the positive side of the fainting spells and only partial awakening, she has no memory of the events.  Sometimes she doubts that the spells really happened, but she seems now to accept it when I tell her about one.

In the journal, I added that she had had a noisy night before this episode. She was vocalizing and active, obviously having vivid dreams. One of the characteristics of people who experience Lewy Body Dementia is that they have very vivid dreams in which there is bodily movement and vocalizing. The normal dream process includes some sort of automatic disconnect of mind and body. LBD folks seem to lack that automatic disconnect so they tend to act out and speak out what they are dreaming. I have heard lots of laughing, crying, screaming and talking over the years.

Vacationing while having responsibility for someone needing full care is exhausting and frustrating. We spent a significant portion of the evening looking for a Baskin and Robbins Ice Cream store she was convinced she had seen more than once earlier in the day. There was none.

The day after the challenging night included the usual tasks that are added due to the presence of Parkinson’s in our household. As I describe them, I am embarrassed to talk as if they are a burden to me. Many of these tasks are well-understood by anyone who has been the primary parent of one or more children. Those responsible for little ones do many of these things routinely with little or no credit for doing tasks that are terribly difficult and draining. I understand far better what Mary Ann did as a stay-at-home Mom for two children. As I whine about the impact on me of things I do for Mary Ann, she has the primary burden of the disease and the resulting dependence on me to do them. She has more reason to whine than I have.

Morning duties included giving Mary Ann a shower, washing and drying her hair.  On vacation there is no bath aid. The routines at home, provide some security and order that helps us through the days. Vacations provide new challenges. After getting the shower and hair done, comes the medication ritual. There is an Exelon patch to be removed and new one put on. The old band-aid on one skin Cancer must be removed and a new one put on – Polysporin first. Then the other skin Cancer needs to be cleaned with Peroxide. Only after those duties are complete do I start my own morning regimen.

The breakfast as always here was wonderful. We arrived, I moved Mary Ann from her transfer chair to the chair at the table and put the transfer chair aside. Pills needed to be put in a container for her to take with the meal, then the daytime pills put in the timers and the timers set and started. Meals always include getting Mary Ann’s food arranged and prepared for her to eat. The omelet needed to be cut into bite sized pieces, the same with the sausage. What parent of little children has ever gotten to eat food while still hot. It just goes with the territory. For someone debilitated with Parkinson’s Disease, eating is a difficult task. The food tends to slide off the side of the place as it is chased to the edge. The food can end up in lots of unintended places. During mealtimes, my stomach is usually in a knot as I try to determine what to do and what not to do to help, as I watch things heading for a place that will create a mess for me to clean up. Certainly Mary Ann struggles to get meals eaten. She dislikes my help, but often allows it. Meals are more uncomfortable when eaten in a public setting.

The day included a self-guided tour that took us to see beautiful gardens, but demanded pushing the wheelchair for two or three miles on paths, sometimes paved and sometimes not, sometimes ADA approved and sometimes not. The circumstances allowed few options other than effort that got my heart pounding to a degree that left me wondering if I would have to call for help to make it back to the entrance. Today Mary Ann wanted to hunt for diamonds at a diamond mine around here. It was too far, so we ended up spending close to a couple of hours looking for quartz crystals, both of us in the hot sun, me digging through the gooey clay and Mary Ann, while in her wheel-chair, examining the discoveries .

Now that we are midstream in the trip, the question remains. Is it worth it?  It is much harder to handle things away than at home.  The barriers that must be dealt with are many.  We could stay home and watch television.  It would be so much easier.  A trip like this allows us to see things we could not see and do things we couldn’t do at home.  It gets us away, with new people.  It provides exercise and stimulation (sometimes more than we would otherwise choose).

Would we still do it?  Even knowing the realities, at the moment we would still choose to go.  We won’t be home for another two days.  I’ll let you know then if that is still my answer.

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Mary Ann and I both had appointments with the Cardiologist today.  We knew him as a parishioner before he became our Cardiologist.  We like him very much.  He is good.  Very good.  We are grateful that he is good since Mary Ann has so many problems associated with her heart and its functioning.  He is an important member of the team.  It is a team.  The team includes the Cardiologist, the Parkinson’s Clinic Neurologist, the local General Neurologist, the Gastroenterologist, the Primary Care Physician (General Practitioner),  the Nephrologist, the Ear, Nose and Throat specialist, the Dermatologist (who has removed her four Basal Cell skin Cancers), the Endocrinologist, her Physical Therapist, Speech Therapist, Occupational Therapist, Clinical Psychologist, two or three hospitalists, along with numerous medical technicians and nurses of all sorts, some seen only once, some who are practically like family.  We have great medical care.

Each of these people is very good at what he/she does.  Each has specialized in a certain body system or body part.   The Primary Care Physician has the largest chart for Mary Ann, but there is no way he can keep up with all the tests and treatments and medications with so many different people making independent decisions about what to do to treat the problem in their area of expertise.

Here is the obvious problem in this marvelous Team effort.  Mary Ann is actually a single living being who is not simply a gathering of independent systems and body parts.  She is a whole somebody.   Every system is connected to every other system, making up a single functioning human someone. 

Any of you who has been a primary Caregiver for a Loved One with Parkinson’s or any other chronic illness understands very well nature of the your role as a Volunteer Medical professional.  All those people listed above know more than I do about their area of specialty.  I know Mary Ann better than any of them.  I pick her up when she faints or loses her balance.  I know when those problems come in relationship to how much medicine she has taken and when.  I have discovered that when the recommended treatment for her heart is put in place, her Parkinson’s is unmanagable.  I know that when she has some major intestinal activity there is likely to be some fainting and maybe a time of mental confusion.  I know that if there will be a test done that demands her lying still, we need to skip the dose of her main Parkinson’s Med (brand name Sinamet) or the test will almost be impossible to accomplish, because of the dyskinetic movement that is now a side effect of that medication.  I know about how long we have to get from one place to another before she is likely to faint.  

One of the somewhat unique characteristics of Parkinson’s is that there is not much that is consistent and predictable. Medicine may work or may not work on a given day or at a given dosing time.  She may be able to walk long distances without fainting or faint sitting in a chair or immediately on getting up.  She may be up a dozen times on the commode during the night, or just a couple of times.  She may be wobbly or steady, sleepy or restless.  Even the best specialist in the field knows that one regimen of meds may work for one person but not another. 

Your Medical Degree is in the Mail!  You as the Caregiver actually serve as the Primary Care Medical Practitioner.  You need to know what medicine is being given for what symptom(s) and what impact it will have on the others.  The clearest example of the problem of competing treatments came for us when the treatment for Mary Ann’s Congestive Heart Failure and Cardiac Heart Disease stood in direct opposition to the treatment for her Parkinson’s.  The diuretics and low salt diet lowered her blood pressure.   The Parkinson’s meds lowered her blood pressure also, and the progression of the Parkinson’s compromised her body’s ability to adjust quickly enough to keep blood pressure high enough to stand up and remain conscious. 

Let me put it this way.  One doctor said, no pizza and Pepsi, the other one said, yes, pizza and Pepsi.  One treatment was to keep from retaining fluids, making the heart work harder, the other treatment was to keep enough fluids in her body to keep her blood pressure from dropping suddenly.  At one point I inferred from what the Cardiologist that the side effects (the dyskinetic movements) of her main Parkinson’s meds was threatening her heart’s health.  We stopped the Parkinson’s Meds and she turned to stone. 

Caregivers are advocates for the quality of life of their chronically ill partner.  In our case, the doctors we regularly use now understand the narrow margin of functionality within which we live. 

I wonder how many of you who are primary Caregivers have taken your Loved One to the doctor, only to be ignored by the staff and maybe even the doctor, treated as an annoyance who should keep your questions to yourself.  I do not have enough fingers and toes to count the times, either in doctor’ offices or hospital rooms that I needed to explain to the medical staff some of the very basic dimensions of Parkinson’s, the way meds should be given and what the side effects will be. 

Caregivers are the Primary Medical Technicians for their Loved Ones.  Don’t get angry about it, just do it.  Learn everything you can about the disease.  Go to workshops and support groups, whether face to face or online.  Write down the questions and demand answers in terms that you can understand.  Ask what every medicine is supposed to do, what its side effects are and how it will impact other problems and the medicines being taken for them.  Advocate for the best quality of life you can obtain, even if you run into some attitude along the way. 

Like it or not,  you are the Team Leader.  No,  you are not a doctor, you do not have the breadth of knowledge and training, but you know your Loved One better than anyone else.  You are an expert on his or her disease and its impact on your lives.  You see the whole person, not just the separate systems and body parts. 

Our experience has been that any time we have encountered a medical professional who is good, very good, who knows the area well, he/she has always been open and inclusive, listened well and explained well.  Seek them out.  They will help you find the best quality possible for and your Loved One in your time together, however long that may be.

If you have a story to tell from your experiences with medical professionals, tell that story here.  It might help someone who happens to find her/his way to this site.

By the way, today’s news from the Cardiologist was good news.   There has been no measurable deterioration, nothing new in the last six months.   For the moment, we get to keep our current normal.  We can live with that!

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Comments are appreciated.