part 2

The other shoe finally dropped in December of 2001, when my mother announced that she was ready to go into a nursing home. I visited all of them in Tallahassee and found placement in the one I felt most comfortable with. A week later, Walter had a massive stroke that left him completely paralyzed except for the use of his left hand. His daughter had passed away earlier that year, so I stood in as his caregiver. I had him placed in the same home where my mom was, where he was to receive physical and occupational therapy. It became apparent within a short time that physical therapy was of no use, and it took three months to get the specialized motorized wheelchair that would allow him some mobility. I would lie awake at night, thinking about him lying there, unable to move or to do anything for himself. It was breaking my heart. When we finally did get the chair in March of 2002, I got him out of there and placed him in an assisted living facility. He had a good mind and did not belong in a nursing home. He passed away in August of that same year.

In the meantime, my mother decided that she wasn't sick enough to be in a nursing home, so at the end of January I moved her into an assisted living facility. This was a disaster. I was doing all of the assisting. She was in and out of the hospital, and I even had one ER doctor scream at me not to use his emergency room as a social service agency. At this time, my husband finally put his foot down (somebody needed to) and insisted that I place her in the nursing home right up the road from where we live. He saw that my health was being destroyed, not to mention our marriage.

So in June of 2002, I placed her in the nursing home right up the road - another disaster. It had seemed like a good idea because I could keep an eye on things since it was so close by, but I couldn't be there 24/7. This place is a hellhole, and, in my opinion, should be shut down. I reported them to the state agency that regulates nursing homes, and they were written up and fined. Things didn't improve. I reported them again. This time they retaliated by kicking her out. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

So in April of 2003, I placed mom at that same assisted living facility where Walter had lived - a small family operation where the employees actually care about the residents. The drawbacks are that it's so far away - in a tiny little town on the coast. I only get to see her once a week, and getting to doctors' appointments has become an ordeal. The latest surprise came yesterday, when I found out that the local transport company will no longer transport my mother to appointments and allow me to just meet her there. Apparently there were a couple of incidents of which I had no knowledge, and of which I still have no knowledge. I called the company, and the party line is, "I don't know."

So if I want to get mom's teeth cleaned, I have to take a full day off from work and take her myself. My mom now has cataracts. I have been struggling with the decision of whether or not to have them removed. This would require multiple trips into Tallahassee, which would only confuse her. And the possible complications of the replacement lenses becoming clouded - which happens in 40-50% of the cases. My mother is still legal to drive in Florida, but nobody would want that. She doesn't read, and she doesn't watch TV. I had her read the back of an artificial sweetener packet yesterday, and she actually sees better than I do. With all of the other medical complications (congestive heart failure, peripheral vascular disease, irregular heartbeat, and so on), I have decided not to put her through it. It was a tough decision to make. It's no fun having someone else's life in your hands. The decision making process at each step is agonizing. I have to search my heart and my soul, and then I have to do research and inform myself as best I can to make the best decisions I can.

My mother is now in the middle stages of Alzheimer's disease. She wants her mother's car back. She thinks she packed a suitcase and somebody took it away from her. I see her every week, and she doesn't remember from week to week that I've been there. There have been times that she hasn't known who I am. We do the best we can.

I'll leave you with two things here: one I looked all over for, and the other I know by heart. I hope they help you in your journey. Peace be with you.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference.