Tag: #eldercare

ChatGPT on Elder Care

I’m taking some time today to explore ChatGPT and what it has to offer. I’m always looking for new things I can incorporate into my work.

I decided to ask it for advice on elder care. This is the response. I have to say – it is ‘spot on’ from my experience. I like how the last three points are for the caregiver and not solely the elder.

Caring for an elderly loved one can be a challenging and rewarding experience. Here are some tips for elder care:

  1. Get organized: Create a care plan and schedule to help you manage your loved one’s needs, appointments, and medications. This will help you stay on top of things and avoid feeling overwhelmed.
  2. Communicate: Communicate openly and regularly with your loved one about their needs, concerns, and wishes. This will help you provide better care and avoid misunderstandings.
  3. Practice patience and compassion: Caring for an elderly loved one can be frustrating and stressful at times. It’s important to practice patience and compassion and take the time to listen to and understand their needs.
  4. Prioritize safety: Safety should always be a top priority when caring for an elderly loved one. Make sure their living environment is safe and secure and that they have the necessary equipment and support to prevent falls and accidents.
  5. Provide emotional support: Elderly loved ones often feel isolated and lonely, especially if they are unable to leave their home or care facility. Provide emotional support by spending time with them, engaging in activities they enjoy, and staying connected with family and friends.
  6. Seek professional help: Don’t hesitate to seek professional help when needed. There are many resources available, including home health care services, support groups, and counseling services.
  7. Take care of yourself: Caring for an elderly loved one can be physically and emotionally exhausting. Take care of yourself by getting enough sleep, eating a healthy diet, and engaging in regular exercise and self-care activities.
  8. Know when to ask for help: If you are feeling overwhelmed or unable to provide the level of care your loved one needs, don’t be afraid to ask for help. This could mean reaching out to family and friends or hiring a professional caregiver. It’s important to prioritize your own well-being and the well-being of your loved one

Elder Care

Let me tell you, elder care is not for the feint of heart. My parents moved in with me 5 years ago. I had this romantic view of what it’d be like – my mom and I would go shopping; Dad and I would go fishing. They’d be able to go to all of my son’s basketball and football games. Dad would have a place to garden again; Mom would have space to read and do her puzzles. It seemed perfect.

I had no idea it would be so much work. My dad had cataract surgery shortly after moving in with me. A few months later, a heart attack. Mom was also dealing with severe depression and anxiety. She was convinced Dad was getting Alzheimer’s. I cannot tell you the number of medical appointments we went to in a month. There were at least two or three a week between the two of them. It wasn’t short-term, either. The medical appointments were constant. They always wanted me to attend as they didn’t trust themselves to remember everything they were told.

It didn’t stop after Mom died and Dad went into assisted living. There are fewer medical appointments since a nurse and doctor are on-site, but there are specialist appointments. It’s never just one. One appointment leads to another…and another. Dad is now completely blind. He doesn’t move as well as he used to. A 20-minute appointment is now a 3 to 4 hour excursion. By the time I get to his home, get him in the car, to the appointment, and back to his room, half a day is gone.

Hearing aids never stop working at the same time. I take one in and a week or two later the other needs to be fixed. There’s always something Dad needs me to get for him.

Martin is experiencing this now that we’ve moved his dad to be closer to us. It’s never-ending. With both of the dads, we ask if they need anything. “No, no, I’m good.” A few hours later or the next day…”I need…”.

It’s a tough situation. We want to be there for our parents. We also need to live our own lives. From an observer’s standpoint, it’s fascinating to watch. The older they get, the more toddler-like they become. They can’t walk as well. They are fussy eaters. They need help doing almost everything. They can only focus on what what is an immediate thought or need.

I try to frame my mindset to “I get to …” rather than “I have to …”. I’m fortunate to still have my dad. I know that. I know how much he and Mom did for me as a child. Still, when I’m tired, part of me thinks, “They chose to have children; I didn’t choose this.”

It’s normal to have these feelings. I still have an young adult at home. I work more than full-time hours every week. Getting enough exercise is important to me. There are all the ‘adulting’ things that need to be done. Sometimes, Dad feels like one more obligation. There’s a reason respite is offered to caregivers.

My dad lost his wife of 53 years and his vision within two years of each other. He can’t do any of things he loves to do. Yet, his attitude is still one of, “Well, it could be worse” or “Well, what can you do?” He loves his family. He’s so very proud of the adults his grandchildren are becoming. He stays in touch with his extended family. If I ever need anything, Dad is there.

As exhausting and frustrating as it can be, being able to look after my dad is a gift. He will be 85 in April. He’s already outlived everyone in his family. He won’t be here forever. I’m fortunate we are still able to create memories.

Change is Tough

“The Only Constant in Life Is Change.”- Heraclitus

This quote, along with “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” have been running through my mind a great deal the past while. Do you ever think, “Enough! I’m strong enough! Stop testing me!”?

For the past four years, I’ve been the primary caregiver to my parents. We lost Mom two years ago, and today, I moved my dad into long-term care. I had no idea how difficult the day would be for me. On one hand – he and I are both ready for it. He asked to move. I’m burning out. I know, deep in my heart, it’s the best move for both of us. With his vision loss, he was getting more easily disoriented in the house and it was scaring him. I was responsible for getting his meals, medication, doctor appointments, transportation, and keeping an ear open to make sure he was safe at all times. I couldn’t leave the house for more than an hour or two at a time. We were thrilled when a spot opened at one of the homes we had chosen.

Today was moving day. I thought I’d feel relieved. It’s the last thing I feel. I’m sad because Dad won’t be in the house anymore. As much of a toll as it was taking on me, I feel sad that he won’t be cared for by his family. I feel sad that Dad can’t see what a lovely place he’s at now. He’s got a room that faces the mountains and the airport runway. I know he’s love to sit and watch the planes take off and land. The home has pool tables, plenty of couches for cozy conversation areas, raised gardens outdoors – all things he’d enjoy if he was more able bodied and had his vision.

I’m concerned that he’s going to get disoriented in his new room, despite setting it up much the way he had it at the house. I spent 30 minutes having him walk to/from the bathroom so he felt confident he could find his way on his own. I had to teach him how to “see” with his hands in his new environment – a bit of a challenge for an 83 year old man who is also in cognitive decline.

I worry that he won’t get the care he deserves. I have no reason to believe he won’t, but this is brand new and it’s not me anymore. I need to put faith and trust in others. The people I’ve spoken with the past week, and met today, are lovely people. I’m sure he’ll be well cared for, but I’ll need to hear from him that he’s content.

Dad has to quarantine in his room for 14 days. My niece and I are the only two people who can visit him. His meals and activity workers will spend time with him – but will it be enough stimulation? Will he be bored? How scared is he?

Once quarantine is over, he can leave his room and socialize with others. He will require assistance to get out of his room and into the social areas. Will the staff remember he can’t see? Will they get him out and about? It’s all so new for both of us.

After getting Dad settled and hearing him say, for now, he is happy, we left. I cried all the way home. I feel that I’ve let him down. I know he’d say I haven’t.

It’s tough. Even though it’s a change we were both ready for, and wanted, we’re not prepared for it. Within an hour of getting home, I fell asleep. I can’t remember when I’ve felt this tired. It’s weird not having Dad here. Dinner time came and went. I didn’t have to get him to the table, get his meal ready, and his medication out for him. I don’t hear the TV blasting from his bedroom. There’s an emptiness in the house.

Dad’s move marks the start of more changes. There’s no reason for my roommate and I to live together anymore. I’m free to move. Our mortgage is due and it’s the perfect time for him to buy me out. I’m looking at being a home owner on my own for the first time in my life.

None of this was in the 5 or 10 year plan. Will there ever be a time when my life feels settled, when change isn’t the constant it’s been the past few years? Or, has it always been like this and, as I age, am I simply more aware of it?

So much of how we react to change has to do with mindset and resiliency. Tomorrow, I’ll go back to being a strong, dependable, optimistic woman who can handle whatever life throws at me.

Tonight, I want to be the little girl who misses her dad.

Reflective Moments

It’s the last day of a long weekend, and I’m up so the dogs can be fed. I’m also up to enjoy some solitude in my house. Everyone else is asleep. It’s the only time of day where there is absolute quiet and no expectations of me.

When I invited my parents to live with us four years ago, I had no idea how much work it would be. In my mind, I’d pictured fishing trips with my dad, working together in the yard, and going shopping with Mom when she felt like it.

Little did I know it would become an endless parade of medical appointments, that their health would decline so rapidly, or that Mom would die from a massive head injury sustained from a fall in our garage. In the past year, my Dad started to lose his vision and is failing before my eyes.

So much has changed in the past four years in addition to my parents. My marriage ended. My son graduated high school. I found a new partner. I lost my job, and found another. We’re also one year into a global pandemic.

There are days I’m overwhelmed. Most days, I’m grateful. As much work, and at times frustration it’s been, being able to care for my parents at the end of their lives gave me time with them I haven’t had for years. I moved away from home in my early 20’s and never again lived in the same city. Visits were three or four times a year and weekly phone calls.

The job loss was a blessing in disguise. It gave me time to take stock of where I’m at and where I want to go. I realized I’m not ready to retire, despite how much the idea appeals to me. I learned how much I’d ‘muted’ my true self to try to make the marriage work, and began to bring my ‘self’ forward. I examined what it was about me that made me choose partners who, in the end, were not good matches. I can go forward with new self-awareness.

I do not live a conventional life. When we realized our marriage no longer served us as a couple and acknowledged we were – indeed – roommates, my husband and I opened our marriage. Through that, we both found people who give us the relationships we want. When the pandemic hit, he invited my partner to stay with us on his days off so we didn’t have to rent AirBnbs. Both his partner and mine helped us build our deck.

Yesterday, Valentine’s day was marked by formally signing our separation agreement. We’ve decided to stay in the house together, but separate. I occupy the second floor, and he is finishing the basement to live there. We will share the main floor. This arrangement gives us an economical way to live independently of each other, keep the house we like, the yard we love, and our pets. How long it will last, we don’t know. It works for now.

My day is about to start. I hear Dad coughing in his room. Soon, he will need me to guide him to the kitchen, make his breakfast, and get his medications ready for him. The silence will be shattered by the sound of game shows and “The Big Bang Theory” coming from his TV. When my son wakes, he will start chatting and gaming with his friends. This will carry on long after I go to bed.

I cherish these moments of solitude where I can sit in a sunbeam, drink my coffee, and not have any immediate responsibilities. It’s a gentle way to start the day.

Midlife Sandwich

One thing our readers are sure to notice over the next few months is the different experiences Vanessa and I are having in our midlife journeys. While she’s experiencing all the ashram has to teach her, I’m at home learning lessons about caregiving at opposite ends of the life cycle.

One one end, I have an 18 year old son who is still living at home. He’s taking some classes towards a certificate, working part-time, and weightlifting. He’s developing skills and confidence I’ve never seen in him before. It’s a pleasure to watch him become the self-assured young man I always knew was within him.

On the other end, I have my 82 year old dad living with me. While my son needs less and less parenting, my dad requires more. Over the past four years, I have become Dad’s primary caregiver. He’s lost most of his vision and is no longer able to cook or bathe by himself. I take him to all his medical appointments, do his shopping, manage his money, and try to make life as interesting as possible for him.

I’m in a midlife sandwich. How I’d love to be able to leave the house for two months to go do karmic yoga at an ashram; to have the time to be in nature, learning, growing. Right now, I can barely leave the house for an hour. Dad can’t be left alone much longer than that.

At a time when I’m encouraging my son to find his independence, I’m watching my dad lose his. Just this week, Dad asked me to look into nursing homes. He’s starting to get lost in the house because he doesn’t have enough sight to help guide him. He thinks he’s walking in a straight line, but he’s not. He gets disoriented when he finds himself somewhere other than where he wanted to be. It’s frustrating for him and sad for me. This man who always seemed larger than life, who could solve any problem, who was so giving of his time and energy – he’s fading before my eyes.

It’s a time of such mixed emotions. I’m proud of my son. I feel sorry for my dad. I feel guilt that I can’t do more for him. I feel relief knowing he will be in a place that can give him the level of care he needs – and then more guilt because he won’t be living with family. I don’t know if he wants to move because it’s better for him, or if he’s doing it for me.

We all have our own paths to walk. My son is just starting; my dad is near the end. I’m somewhere in the middle.

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