Holidays and Seniors

Lots of people will be traveling home for the holidays soon. Many of us "flew the coop" after high school or college, and left our parents to age back in our home towns. I get many calls this time of year when folks come home to less than ideal circumstances.

Mom and Dad have aged, and they've done a very good job of hiding it from us in those weekly/monthly telephone calls. When you get home this season, do some checking around if you have some suspicions that things aren't right. Ask them about their finances, if they are getting their bills paid on time. Look in their medicine cabinets to see if they're hoarding prescriptions, failing to throw out expired items, and for the more recent prescriptions count how many are left in the bottle and, based on the date the script was written, ask yourself if they are taking the medication as prescribed.

Offer to go to a physician appointment with them while you're in town. Make sure you, or another family member, has HealthCare Power of Attorney. Establish a relationship with their primary care physician (PCP) so you can call the doctor's office from time to time with concerns. Give your contact information to the PCP's office.

Establish a system for what your parents should do if an emergent situation arises. If there are many children in the family - whom should they call first? Establish a phone tree, and don't leave anyone out!

Holidays can be wonderful times to show your parents how much your care by becoming a little more involved in their lives. And, if they're resistant? Well... that's another blog.

Read more about Holidays and Caregiving at: http://www.professionalcareforyou.com/holidayhomecoming.htm

Stay tuned, and stay well.

Helping people is my thing

I hope you haven't missed me too much, but I've been very busy helping families with aging parents make the best of what they have.

Most recently, my average client age is 90. Most of them are in their own homes and want to stay here. I'm helping them accomplish that goal by pulling resources together that meet their needs and their budget.

I love answering questions and educating people about choices and community resources.

I've also been having a little fun for myself, and practicing what I preach to caregivers: Take care of YOURSELF.

Happy Autumn, everyone. I promise to write more soon and tell you some specifics about keeping our seniors safe and independent.

The Greatest Generation

It's not a cliche, it's the truth. The World War II generation deserves its nickname. They survived the Great Depression. They volunteered to fight a war they believed in, and those who did not lose their lives, still they lost their innocence.

How will we care for them now? What do they deserve? Institutional extended care facilities with overworked, underpaid staff? Move them out of their homes because it's too expensive to care for them there? Put them in rooms with linoleum floors and roommates who scream and food brought in refrigerated trucks?

Why not something better? What will it be? What will we want when we are finished earning a living and need to rely on what we have saved and what others will donate through taxes or willingly?

We will want to be asked. We will want to be a part of the decision of where and how we live out the last years of our lives. What do you want? Tell someone.

I want to be in my home with my kitties and my family. If I can afford it, I will want to stay at home and watch television all night now and then. I want to eat when I feel like it. I want to be able to take up new hobbies that I'll finally have time for: piano lessons, reading the Great Classics, learning a foreign language or two, writing the Great American Novel finally. I want my computer internet working, a stereo, and whatever newest electronic toys are coming out. I want unlimited visits from children and grandchildren, grown or otherwise. I want a garden to sit in.

Respect, comfort, kindness. These are the things I wish for all aging people.

The Wasp Lesson

I got stung by a wasp on Sunday afternoon. It had been a beautiful day, until that moment; I was being incredibly productive, working on several outdoor projects. The garage door needed repairing and I was finally getting it done! Unfortunately, I was in conflict with an unknown adversary. I was getting too close to the wasp's nest (attached to the underside of my son's slide!) with power tools. I saw it fly near me, but didn't realize it was actually after me until I felt the intense pain on the meaty part of my forefinger. "Sonofagun stung me!" exploded out of me and I dropped the tools and leapt to another part of the yard. The ice cube helped but it was a big unnerving, I must admit. I sat on the couch the rest of the afternoon, milking my ego and babying my finger.

Then it struck me. How beautiful a day I had been having. Productive, happy, content, beautiful weather. And one little sting could be so powerful as to interrupt and change the whole atmosphere of the day. So, looking back on this day, what will I remember? That I had a beautiful day with gorgeous weather and productivity? This is the day I finally repaired my garage door! It works now without scraping the floor and falling off of the hinges! Or will I remember the sting of the wasp, the pain, and the surprise of the attack.

You know what? I'll remember it for the lesson of the wasp. That even though the sting is powerful, the attack intense... I can choose to relish in the good things that happened, and make even the sting a good thing. Thank you, Wasp, for reminding me that a little sting doesn't have to be the whole day. Just a moment of the day, another incident, experience, lesson. Interrupted, yes. Ruined, no.

Nice People Rock

Seniors are easily intimidated. There are a lot of people that seniors must deal with that choose to be intimidating instead of helpful. Today I met an example of the most, and the least, helpful personalities whose job is to serve the public.

I accompanied a client to the Title Bureau of a nearby county. Despite the cliche expectations that the BMV will be the bad example, this expectation was put to rest as soon as we walked into the office. "May I help you?" said a woman behind the counter. "There's no line?" I was shocked. She had a smile on her face, and met my client's eyes as she stepped up to her counter. This state employee made my client feel at ease by being friendly and warm, willing to help. Even though it took a good 10 to 12 minutes of standing (I offered to get a chair for my client, she declined), the process of creating new Titles for both her mobile home and her vehicle was made comfortable and easy.

Then we went to the VA office in the same building. The woman who handles all VA benefits requests for that county is known for being ... difficult to work with. She lived up to that expectation. My client, Mrs. C, had called this public service office twice and been told that she could expect a return phone call. When none came, Mrs. C wrote a letter. Still no reply. She was trying to get her spouse's VA Aid and Attendance benefit sent automatically to the bank (for the past 8 months). Since the office was nearby, we dropped in. It was ten minutes to 3. We were told to wait please, that the caseworker was in her office. Indeed, we could hear said person on the telephone, loudly complaining to some unfortunate soul.

Another citizen walked in with a three pm appointment with the caseworker. At 5 minutes to 3, the caseworker walked out to the reception area where we all were waiting patiently, reading the newsletters, making small talk with the receptionist about the weather. "Do you have a very brief question, because I have a three o'clock appointment!" she barked with a sour smile on her face. She was intimidating looking with a long wild shock of gray-streaked hair. When her eyes landed on me, I pointed across the area to my client and said as loudly, "Yes, Mrs. C has a very quick question for you, Ma'am."

Her answer to my client's question about the delay was this: (In a sarcastic tone of voice) "Well the paperwork was only sent in on April 20th. It will take several weeks for it to start going directly to the bank."

Here's where things get neat. I smiled broadly, walked toward where she and my client were standing (with the counter between them), and thanked the woman genuinely for her time. The smile she returned to me broke open her porcelain demeanor. She felt appreciated. She thanked my client for coming in, smiled at her, and changed the atmostphere of the encounter.

As we left, Mrs. C rolled her eyes at me and, when the door shut behind us, said, "Whew; she's something else!" We giggled like schoolgirls leaving the principal's office as we walked to the elevator.

One of my favorite bumper stickers is "Mean People Suck." But, actually, without mean people, we would maybe not appreciate the nice ones as much.

~debra

Caregiver Guilt

For weeks, friends and colleagues have said I should write about caregiver guilt. Since it was first mentioned, I've noticed the common theme as caregivers speak about their experiences with their care person (care person = person needing care; I've stopped assuming that "loved one" is an appropriate description for the relationship between the caregiver and the person needing care, hence, I've adopted the neutral term "care person" to describe the recipient of the care).

How can these people feel guilty? I ponder. It is an oxymoron in the face of reality. While caregivers definitely vary widely in the actual time committed to caregiving tasks, it is my opinion that caregivers give much of their emotional energy to the fact of caregiving, and that they give all that they can, given their individual emotional, financial, and physical capabilities. Guilt should be far from their repertoire, and yet, there it is. Guilt is an entity that makes itself known and felt in broad strokes through families as they make their way through life.

From the daughter who spent 8 hours straight at the side of her dying mother, "I shouldn't have left to have dinner, she wouldn't have died alone."

From the long distance son, "I should have moved mom closer to us; I would have been able to spend more time with her."

But, there's: "when I moved dad to the city where I live, I wasn't able to spend as much time with him as I intended. Work and family took precedence, and I ended up feeling guilty that I moved him away from his familiar neighborhood and friends."

We can never anticipate everything that we might feel guilty about later. It seems we're very good at creating guilt no matter what our actions have accomplished.

The next time guilt starts taking hold, try imagining the life your care person would have had without you. Start listing the things you have done that have made a difference to someone else. Be grateful for the opportunity to be a caregiver; what a marvelous and blessed role it is.

Take care.

~debra

Sally, 66 years old

Last Saturday I helped to admit her and spent time advocating in the ER for pain control. (ER nurse: "She says she's not in pain." Me: "Please looka t her face and listen to the groans of pain. That is not normal for my
client.")

Sunday when I checked on her they told me she was dying. I called her daughter, who also came, but I stayed to be with my client. It was a service I had provided for 3 years. Comfort, advocacy, camaraderie. I knew her better than any one. Her dtr had visited 4 times in the last year.

Today, at the funeral, I wanted to ask the 30 or so persons in the room who they were and where they had been for the last 3 years. The family took care of all the belongings at the nursing home.

I was there for the client. Representing her real, current life. They were a part of her past, and also important to be there. I was also there for myself, because I did love her.

Thanks for listening. Have a beautiful weekend.

Beginning

I am a social worker. I love people. Growing up, I didn't know I was a social worker. I just knew that I loved people. Especially elderly people. The work that I do now is extremely rewarding, and helpful to others who don't want to go it alone. I am a Professional Geriatric Care Manager (PGCM).

The people I work with are very special to me. I want to share their stories so that they can be special to you as well. They want to help you. Help you to avoid the mistakes that they made. Help you to learn from their wisdom. Help you enjoy life more and have more quality time with your family and friends.

Come along, if you'd like. You might find something of interest, of help. I'd be grateful if you did.

~