July 4, 2009

Caregiver Reactions and Responses

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It was a perfect time to be on the deck.  The temperature was in the high 70’s and there was a breeze blowing.  There were some hazy clouds occasionally filtering the bright sunshine.  The deck was partly in the shade and partly in the sun.  The sound of the splashing waterfall echoed providing accompaniment to the raucus squawking of Grackles and Blue Jays.  I read and thought and pondered and read and pondered some more.  It was a wonderful couple of hours.

I got Mary Ann’ s breakfast and pills done; then showered, shaved (yes, even though I wear a beard), and dressed.  The plan was to head to the grocery and then out to eat.  She stood up from the transfer chair for a moment and flopped down into it.  Whatever the switch is that turns off her ability to function, it switched her off.  The plan dissipated and a long nap ensued. 

Adapting quickly to a change in plans has never been easy for me.  If I got into my mind what we were going to do, frustration was my usual response to being derailed, a disabling frustration, leaving me grumpy and annoyed.   Today, video monitor in hand, I just headed out to the deck and had a great time.  In some ways I am learning to cope with the vagaries of the Parkinson’s Disease and Parkinson’s Disease Dementia.

When Mary Ann awakened from her nap, I got her dressed and ready to head out for lunch.  When we started the often endless task of picking a place to eat, she popped up with one we had not been to in years, Red Robin.  It seems to cater to the younger crowd, with a sort of boisterous atmosphere and very expensive burgers. 

I was happy that a decision came so quickly.  I mentioned the possibility of splitting a sandwich since they are large and costly.  I remember the first time we ate there.  It had just opened and there were lots of folks waiting for lunch.  Our name was on the list, but it seemed that others who had come after us were being seated.  I went in and asked why we had been waiting so long.  Somehow our name had been skipped.   As we were being seated, a manager came over and said that because of the long wait, lunch would be on them.  That was music to these frugal ears (big, but frugal).  Giddy with the thought of it, I decided to buy a beer, a Black and Tan (Guinness and Bass in the same glass).  As I was enjoying my beer, a bartender came by with a Black and Tan looking for the person who had ordered it.  He concluded that there had been some confusion, and I might as well have it.  While I just couldn’t manage to get two full beers down in one sitting (college days are over), it felt sort of luxurious to have them both sitting there for me to enjoy.  We had just had two full meals, a Coke for Mary Ann and a couple of imported draft beers for three dollars and change.  Yes, I did leave a tip based on the full price had we paid for the meals. 

This time we weren’t so lucky.  We got seated right away.  I had talked about our splitting a burger before we went in.  Then as we looked at the menu, both interested in the Salmon burger (made with a Salmon filet, not a salmon patty), I asked Mary Ann if we should go ahead and split the sandwich.  She always eats half and we take the other half home.  The burgers at Red Robin are between ten and eleven dollars each.   She said no.  It surprised me, since her normal response would have been yes.   I asked again just to be sure I hadn’t misunderstood.  She again said no. 

We ordered the two meals.  She finds it easiest to eat a sandwich if I cut it in half, and then cut the half in half again.  A quarter of a sandwich is about all she can manage to hold with her hands.  The fingers stiffen and lose dexterity when she is trying to hold on to something.  When she was working on the second quarter, she said, “I thought you were going to eat the other half.”  I am not sure exactly what happened that we miscommunicated so badly.  Red Robins are particularly noisy, and Mary Ann’s voice is very soft due to the Parkinson’s.  Most of the time I end up reading her lips when we are communicating in public, or in the car (can be challenging when driving).  It was annoying to think that we were paying eleven more dollars than we needed to, but I have come to be better at accepting and adapting.

One thing, however, that I cannot seem to accept, to which I struggle to adapt, is the messiness that goes with the dexterity problems.  I find it very hard to deal with my reaction to seeing the sandwich squeezed in her hand until most of it falls on the table her lap or the plate, sauce running through her fingers and down her arm.   Notice that what is hard to accept is not the messiness, but my reaction to it.  The reaction is internal.  My actions were attempts at helping her get the sandwich pieces back in her hand, suggesting she use the fork, then afterward cleaning her hands with napkins and a wipe from her purse.  I know she was uncomfortable with the cleaning I did, since it seemed that she was looking around to see if anyone was watching.

The messiness bothers me more than it does Mary Ann.  Part of it is that I happen to have grown up in a family with a Dad who was meticulous about eating habits.  Part of it is that Mary Ann doesn’t have the view that I have from across the table.  She is focused on getting the food into her mouth.  I see what doesn’t get there. 

Mary Ann did not choose to have limited dexterity.  All she wants to do is eat.  She does what is necessary to get that task accomplished.  My struggle is not with her messiness, it is with my inability to just take it in stride and ignore it.  I am self-conscious for her, when she is not.  I am embarrassed for her, when she is not.  It is hard to admit this, since she is the one living with the Parkinson’s and its impact on her ability to simply enjoy a meal.  I feel very petty.  In this regard, she is healthier than I am.   At least I have the sense not to allow my feelings to stop us from going out.  

Anyway, when we go out to eat, I don’t have to cook and clean up.  With that payoff, bring on the messiness! 

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.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

July 2, 2009

Ceramic Dishes for those with Limited Mobility

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We headed out for a ride in the lush green countryside, through bean fields, wheat stubble after harvest, freshly mown hay being rolled into large round bales, gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see.  The day was warm and sunny with comfortably low humidity.  We took our time as we traveled to Harveyville, Kansas, a thriving metropolis populated with 136 male and 114 female humans and at least a two cats.  One of the cats is huge, by far the largest cat I have ever seen — friendly, but as usual, in charge of the Jepson Pottery Studio.

The studio is filled with hundreds of finished pieces as well as many that are in various stages on their way to completion.  Owner Barry was busy at the wheel turning some unusual looking vases (I think), interacting with two of his four young adult children while he worked.

We had taken to him a dinner plate we purchased at a Medical Supply store. The plate is made of some sort of very sturdy plastic, functional, but hardly pleasing to look at.  It is obviously a plate for use by those with dexterity problems.  The center of the plate is about a half inch deep providing a wall against which the food can be pushed to get it on the fork or spoon.  Without that deep lip, the food often just slides off the edge of the plate on to the table or Mary Ann’s lap or the floor.  The plastic plate is very light, demanding a piece of Dycem (www.dycem.com/), given us by our Occupational Therapist, to keep the plate from slipping.

He made one plate for us to try.  It worked.  Today we picked up five more plates so that we will always have a couple clean for both of us to use. They look great.  Mary Ann had picked the colors, a deep red with an uneven thin blue area around the rim. The plates are heavy, so no Dycem is needed.

We had already gotten four of the chili bowls with handles made with the same colors.  Those bowls have sides high enough so that, as with the plates, the spoon can be pushed against the side to get the cereal on the spoon without sliding over the edge.  I had often needed to feed her the cereal especially when she got to the last one third of the contents of the bowl.  With the chili bowl, I seldom have to help. She can use the handle to tip the bowl, making it easier to get the last of the cereal on the spoon and into her mouth.

He also made us some deep salad bowls, that, along with the chili bowls, can be used for ice cream should that be necessary. By the way, after picking up the ceramics, we drove another half hour or so to stop at the Braum’s in Emporia for hot fudge Sundaes with pecans.

I recognize that it would have been cheaper to use the functional plastic plates.  It is also true that just because Mary Ann has Parkinson’s Disease does not mean the aesthetics of our environment are no longer relevant.  If anything, they are more relevant.  We have less opportunity to get out and see beauty since we are at home most of the time.  We choose to have a quality of life that is nurturing and stimulating.  Objects of beauty are not just unnecessary extravagances but are visual cues that our life together is not just a matter of getting by until we die.

For some reason, Mary Ann did not at all warm up to the idea of using one of the plates to hold birdseed and be placed on one of the flat rocks in the waterfall area in our back yard.  It would look so great!

Today I encouraged Barry Jepson to set up a small area in the shows he does all over the country, an area with items that are user friendly for those with physical limitations.  Since it is a very busy time for him, he is not yet ready to put these new plates on his web site, but hopefully it will happen soon.

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.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

June 17, 2009

Caregivers: Choose Life

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I have come to think that for all of us, but especially those with chronic, degenerative, life-threatening diseases, very many of our choices, big ones and little ones, can be framed as choices either to live or just fill time until we die.

At the Parkinson’s Support Group meeting while back, there were a number of people present who have had Deep Brain Stimulation surgery (see the June 4th post on this blog for a description of the procedure) to lessen the symptoms of their Parkinson’s.  When I thought about it after the meeting I concluded that those who chose the surgery were choosing life.  They were choosing not to simply bide their time as the disease progressed.  While people don’t die of Parkinson’s, the Disease often in some way plays a significant part in their death.

Of course not every decision we make is on the scale of whether or not to have DBS surgery.  With that said, I have begun to think that we can ask of very many of the decisions we make, are we choosing life, or simply filling time until we die.

I have been wondering lately if in our care giving and receiving mode, we are settling into a routine that is more about waiting and filling empty spaces of time than it is about living meaningfully. Every time we set foot out of the house to eat or shop or go to a public place, a meeting, worship service, to see our kids, to go for a ride, it is a major hassle.  We are always at risk for Mary Ann having some sort of problem that is much more difficult to handle away than at home.

When we eat out, it is often pretty hard to get food from the plate to its intended destination without some of the food taking a side trip to shirt or lap or chair or floor.  Just the logistics of getting to the table to eat in the first place is not always very easy.  When we attended that Parkinson’s meeting, there was unexpected intestinal activity that was pretty tough to deal with in a very inaccessible bathroom while a couple of folks we had enlisted to watch the door waited for what must have seemed like an eternity. Heading out for a drive of any distance can present the same sorts of problems.

It is so much easier to stay home and expand little tasks to fill more time than needed, to expand their importance and create the illusion that they are more satisfying and meaningful than they really are.

It is surprising how hard it can be when making a choice to determine which option is choosing life and which is just filling time.  For Mary Ann, watching television fills a void created by losing the ability to do most of the things she used to do for pleasure. However, watching television is also a very addictive life waster — something just to make the time go by more quickly.

There are times when watching a television program or DVD can be informative, mentally stimulating, very entertaining, refreshing and renewing.  There are also times when the television brings nothing to us, but rather consumes our lives, providing no real nourishment, just empty calories.

After procrastinating for a number of days, when finally we actually did do some flower planting outside, it seemed to be time we were living, not just waiting.  When we push ourselves to commit to something, a trip out, a visit, attending an activity, it is often life-affirming.  The temptation is to find some reason just to stay home, to do something familiar, something that in no way stretches us and stimulates us to live life to the fullest.

It is not as simple as concluding that staying busy is the way to fill our lives with meaning.  Busyness can be as life draining as watching reruns just to make the time go by.  For me, sitting alone, listening to a CD of an interesting piece of music, thinking and processing things mentally, calming my spirit, I find to be life-affirming.  Sitting on the deck, watching clouds and listening to birds is meaningful and productive time.  Quietly reading something that is engaging and mentally stimulating or spiritually nourishing is life-affirming for me.

Choosing to spend time with others is choosing life.  After a few days of talking about doing so, last week we called a couple of friends who, gratefully, were able and willing to say yes to a spontaneous invitation to go for a drive in the country.  The day was beautiful, the scenery was stunning.  We stopped at our favorite potter’s studio.  We stopped for ice cream in a picturesque small town in the area.  We tasted wine at a winery outlet, very tasty wine. (I know, ice cream and wine??)

Mary Ann chose to attend a salad luncheon with friends at church last Wednesday. While it was not expected of her, she insisted that we bring a salad – another foray into the kitchen.  Friends invited us to come down the block one evening for cookies and conversation.  The time together was not only entertaining but nourishing to some meaningful relationships.

It is very tempting to avoid the hassles and just stay home.  What was the catch phrase in those old Nike commercials: Just do it!  We have committed to a ten hour trip to Northern Illinois for a family celebration at the end of July.  From there we bring our oldest Granddaughter with us to Kentucky to spend time with our Daughter and her family.  We just received another wonderful thank you gift from the congregation I served. We provided a free place for the new Pastor to stay for a few months, waiting for his family to be able to move here.  The gift is a trip to our very favorite Bed and Breakfast in Arkansas — another long trip, but exceptionally life-affirming.

Choosing life is not always done in huge life-changing deciaions. Choosing life is often done one tiny decision at a time.  The cumulative effect of those little decisions determines whether we are living or just waiting until life is over.

Whether the choice is to undergo major surgery to provide hope of an improved quality of life, or to get out of the house and head down the block for cookies and conversation with friends, the choice is ours to make.  Either we choose life or just wait until it is over.

When given a choice, my hope is to have the courage to choose the option that is life-affirming rather than life-wasting, and, as the Serenity Prayer says, to have the wisdom to know the difference.

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.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

May 6, 2009

A Caregiver’s Fear Realized – Hurt in a Fall

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One of my fears about falling was realized this afternoon.  We live in a very narrow margin of functionality.  We slipped outside the margin for a time today.  The result is an apparent need to change a pattern that has been allowing both Mary Ann and me moments of freedom from being tethered to each other. 

Yesterday morning was the procedure to remove another in a series of Basal Cell Cancers that have been appearing on Mary Ann’s back and upper chest.  The procedure was done in the Dermatologist’s office.  We like him.  He seems to be very committed to the field and always upgrading his knowledge and skills. 

His office, however, is right from the 1950’s.  It is very small, a narrow hallway leading to tiny rooms with pocket doors, bathrooms barely able to hold one person standing up, let alone somone in a wheel chair.  There is a nice flat screen television in the waiting room, among the old furniture.  The equipment doesn’t always work, but it is adequate, and procedures are done well.

The spot on the back of her shoulder was not large.  To guarantee that the perimeter of the patch of skin removed was clear of Cancer cells, a pretty large area of flesh was removed.  Each time a procedure has been done, I have watched each step.  The rooms are very small, so I always have an unobstructed view. 

It is always a surprise to me to see the size of the string of stitches when the the wound has been sutured.  In this case, it was at least a couple of inches long.  He sutures the lower edge of the epithelium, deep in the hole left after the circle of skin is removed.  That is a very tedious process, including a number of steps with each of the many stitches.  Then comes the suturing of the surface edges.  The round opening is pulled together into a line, not exactly straight, but close.  Again each stitch takes multiple steps. 

He made a point of closing the wound tightly since Mary Ann takes Plavix and aspirin.  The doctor observed that Plavix actually sometimes gives surgeons more trouble that Coumadin, a much more powerful blood thinner.  He wanted to be sure there would be no problem with bleeding. 

The day went well after the surgery.  Even though we had been given suggestions for dealing with pain, Mary Ann reported no pain.  The doctor called last evening to ask how she was doing.   There were no problems. 

Today was a good day in many ways.  Mary Ann went to her weekly small group meeting at church.  I was basking in the possibility of a water problem in our back yard turning into a beautiful garden and water feature.  Most importantly, some gossip came my way — good gossip.  The sadly empty building that used to be our Baskin-Robbins ice cream place — yes, I said ours, by squatter’s rights — may eventually open again. 

After lunch, I actually managed to do some cooking using a very complicated recipe.  Here it is:  Brown one large package of country style boneless pork ribs in a large frying pan, then transfer them to a crock pot, add a bottle of KC Masterpiece barbecue sauce and cook them forever.  The recipe is came to us from Larry and Jolene, when they brought over a huge and sumptuous meal.  My creative addition to the recipe is to open a couple of cans of beans and add them to the crockpot a half hour or so before eating.  Enough of the culinary diversion.

Mary Ann wanted a snack.  We had some ice cream.  She ate part of it and decided there was something in it.  I find those hallucinations to be especially annoying, since once they appear, the only alternative is to throw away perfectly good food for no good reason.   An hour later, Mary Ann popped up out of her chair, and as I suspected had decided she needed another snack.  I couldn’t pass up an comment on the last snack’s fate, and then I headed for the kitchen to see what I could find for her. 

I left her standing beside the transfer chair.  As soon as I got to the kitchen, I heard the familiar thump of her falling.  It was in an open carpeted area.  She hit nothing that might hurt her.  Normally, such a fall is just routine.  Not this time.  She landed directly on the shoulder that had been stitched up yesterday morning after the surgery on the skin Cancer. 

I knew it would be so, and as soon as I got her to the bedroom to look at it, my fear was confirmed.  The blood was running.  I headed for the case we have filled with first aid supplies we have gathered after past experiences like this.  I got a thick surgical pad and some tape to try to contain the bleeding until we could get back to the doctor.  The tape I had  (too narrow) combined with the awkward location of the incision resulted in blood seeping through to her clothing in spite of my best efforts. 

 I called the doctor’s office and was advised to do the obvious, bring her in.  The doctor had to send home a patient who had been stuck and prepped for a procedure because Mary Ann’s wound could not wait.  She had done something he had never seen before in his career (started medical school forty years ago).  She had torn open the two inch stream of stitches on the top and deep within the wound.   He had to start over completely.

The afternoon grew in complexity as it went on.  The doctor had sent home the other patient prepped for a procedure.  As he and two assistants were doing a cluster of preparatory tasks for Mary Ann’s repair, the doctor’s preschool-aged grandson came running down the hall.  He poked his head in.  He was not put off at all by what he saw.  Obviously he had wandered in on procedures before.  What added to a sort of chaotic tone that was developing was that the little boy’s mother. the doctor’s daughter-in-law came down the hall holding a cloth to her forehead.  She had run into a door and was also in need of stitches. 

The doctor left Mary Ann to attend to his daughter-in-law.   The assistants continued the prep, obviously a little unsure of how to proceed.  During that time the two assistants were sharing with each other their concern that they both had to leave and could not stay much longer.  One  had an appointment to take her two year old horse to be broken.  The other had to pick up her preschooler (who happened to be attending the preschool at the church from which I retired last summer). 

The doctor had done some preliminary work on his daughter-in-law so that she could wait until he was done with Mary Ann for her stitches.  When he returned, the imminent departure of his two assistants became clear.  The word went out to the office manager who had been with him for much of his practice to scrub up so that she could take over when the assistant’s left. 

Through all this, every time we checked with Mary Ann, she said she was fine.  She lay a long time on that table as he redid the entire suturing process.  It was long and tedious.  As time went by we all began to appreciate the craziness of how the afternoon was going.  They all commented on how uneventful the day had been up until we injected some drama into their day.  I told them that if it was okay with them, we would opt out of any future need for excitement being added to their day. 

The moment, Mary Ann is in bed.  As a her Caregiver, I have a dilemma.  First of all, I bear responsibility for what happened.  Had I been there with my hand on her gait belt, I could have prevented the fall.  Secondly, I was not calm and reassuring after it happened.  Instead, my frustration with the situation spewed out of my mouth.  Gratefully, I moved quickly and got done what needed to be done.  My dilemma is the implication this has for how I go about my Caregiving task. 

I have felt free to be in the kitchen for a time, go down the hall to my office to be at the computer for short times during the day,  go to the end of the block to get the mail.   At least until the stitches heal fully, this episode suggests that freedom no longer to be an option.  Mary Ann simply cannot keep from getting up and going.  I need to be there immediately to offer an elbow or put my hand on the gait belt. 

Tomorrow, I need to follow through on getting an audio-visual monitor from Babies R Us, or wherever I can find one.  If I can keep the receiver with me wherever I am in the house, maybe Mary Ann and I will not need to be joined at the hip every minute of every day.  That much closeness would all but assure both of us going completely crazy.   It would not be a pretty sight.

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.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

April 23, 2009

Caregiver Vacation Realities

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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.

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.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

April 8, 2009

Caregivers: Shall we Travel?

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Meaningful Caregiving, Therapeutic Activities | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
1 Comment 

I am writing this post at my Daughter and Son-in-Law’s computer after driving for eleven hours yesterday to get here.  The word “disincentive” has come to be a regular in my vocabulary.  The disincentives to traveling with someone who needs lots of care are legion.

There is a powerful ambivalence that comes as the trip nears.  Memories of struggles on past trips loom.  There was the trip to that Elderhostel held in Tucson, Arizona one winter.  We flew since the drive would have been a couple of long days.  In my mind, the air quality on the plane brought it on.  Four days later I called the children to fly in for what was thought could be Mary Ann’s last night.  She recovered.  Nonetheless, that memory brings to mind the distinct possibility of having problems away from home.   A strange and unfamiliar hospital, new doctors, the communication of a complex of illnesses about which records lie a thousand miles away, the usual support system unavailable all compound the stress felt by the Caregiver.

Memories of driving for miles trying to find a one-holer, a single-user bathroom, or searching for someone willing to guard the multi-stall bathroom while the two of you spend what seems like an eternity in the restroom, those memories are firmly entrenched and surface immediately at the first thought of heading off on another trip.

I think most of us who are full time Caregivers have worked hard at developing routines that help us anticipate and deal with the many daily struggles that come with the territory.  We have found what works.  We have the tools handy in the places we will need them.  We know to whom to turn for what.  When we are in another place, routines no longer in place, everything is harder.  What we would have taken in stride at home becomes a major challenge.  There is added stress due to the increased vigilance demanded by a new environment filled with the unexpected.

The destination of our travel may not be user friendly for those with physical limitations.  If we are staying in a home with family or friends, the chances are there will not be all the accommodations we have provided at home as we have worked at making it more accessible over the years.  As Caregivers we have all come to realize how easily a few steps or a curb or a gravel drive or cramped quarters in a bathroom or a low toilet stool or any number of seemingly minor challenges can become major barriers.

Eating out in public places during the travel and, perhaps, at the destination is not a time to relax and converse and rest from the trip.  Finding a spot to park, getting the wheel chair out and through the doors of what is usually an air lock arrangement, two sets of doors with a small space in between sets the tone for the mealtime.  Figuring out what to order, dealing with the logistics of finding a table and getting the food to it in a fast food restaurant are more difficult that would be imagined.   Then, unfortunately, I get embarrassed when the food as it is being eaten ends up in a mess on the table, lap and floor.  I consider it my job to leave the table as I found it.

The disincentives to travel are legion.  The challenge is to put the disincentives in perspective when deciding whether or not to travel.  Mary Ann is less conscious of the disincentives.   She does not embarrass as easily as I do.  She seems less conscious of the difficulties we encounter.  I assume that part of the reason for that is that I am the one who does the physical tasks associated with getting her needs met.

There are incentives to traveling.  This trip brings us to two of our Granddaughters.  That trumps pretty much all of the disincentives for traveling here.  Traveling gets us out of those same few rooms in which we are spending our whole lives.   Traveling gets us away from one more Law and Order episode, Spaghetti Western, session of self-help on Oprah.  Traveling gets us in contact with real, live, human beings, able to converse with us.  Traveling exposes us to the beauty that surrounds us but is out of sight because it is on the other side of the houses surrounding ours.

We have worked at determining where the best bathrooms (single user) are when traveling.  They include Subways, Taco Bells, newer Casey’s General Stores, smaller convenience stores, Arbys,  BP station (if there is not an attached fast food restaurant).  Those places don’t always have a bathroom suited to our needs, but often do.  We have learned what foods are more and less challenging to handle.  We have an old catalog case filled with first aid supplies, straws, wipes, anything we can think of that we might need, but might not be readily available.  We grab that case every time we hit the road for an overnight.

You remember that often repeated quote attributed to someone who is looking back on life regretting not what he did but rather what he did not do.  There is only so much time left for any of us.  With a chronic illness in the family, mortality is clear.  Whatever we will do yet in our lives needs to be done now if it will be done at all.

Of course we need not to tempt fate and be foolish about what we choose to do.   If quality of life actually is more important that quantity, we do need to stretch the limits a bit and take the risk on traveling.

Shall we travel?  For Caregivers, it is far easier not to.  Logically speaking, the disincentives may seem to outweigh the incentives.  The challenge is to put in healthy perspective both disincentives and incentives.  Weigh them carefully and remember, we don’t have forever, we have now.

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