Wow, where does the time go! I realize that I have not posted to this blog since 2014! A lot of life can happen in three years! So it's time to play catch-up:
My MIL has been living in the a home since September 2011 and I can't believe it has been almost five years. I am happy to tell you that she is doing great! I realize that seems odd to say but she is able to function as her own person without feeling like someone is telling her what to do. For her, that is huge---independence is a very important core value for her.
Her social worker will contact us to check in from time to time or to schedule care plans and more times than not to introduce themselves to us because they are new. (Downside is there is so much turnover in these facilities!) Every time we ask how their interaction is with the MIL, they always say "we love her....she is so nice.....friendly, etc."! When we visit, the nurses will pop in and ask if she is going to come have coffee, etc! It's the funniest thing----you would think she worked there.
When the facility recently sold to a new company, they asked my husband if they could move her to a new wing with more "highly functioning" people and after visiting further agreed it might be okay to try. She really didn't fit in with the patients on the Alzheimer's floor who had limited functionality and some were confined to their bed. Shortly after moving her, we went to visit and realized they had moved her by a door (unlocked) and we said that wasn't a good idea. They told us they had placed a Wandergard on her ankle and would know if she tried to exit the building. Well, they obviously didn't know who they were dealing with. She would march right up to the nurses desk, ask for scissors, and cut that bracelet off her ankle on about three different occasions. After they complained to us about it and we promptly reminded them we were not in agreeance with her placement, they moved her! She kept telling us she didn't know who kept putting that bracelet on her but it wasn't hers so she cut it off!
On another occasion, we found her in the dining hall with three other ladies and went in. She jumps up and begins to introduce us......"Suzie, this is my son and his wife....."; response from Suzie, "my names not Suzie!".....this goes on through three introductions. Her response, she grins, chuckles, and walks off.
It's hard to watch her when she seems so "normal" and you just want to move her back home until you are reminded how cruel the disease is. This Christmas was another one of those occasions when you are reminded that she is not how she used to be.
My husband went to pick her up so she could spend the day with us while I continued to get lunch ready. We learned over the years that its easier for us to open presents with her by herself because she gets so confused by a holiday that she loved so much. I could tell this year was going to be a little different. Before everyone arrived for Christmas lunch my husband returned with his mom and I could tell the drive over must have been a little tricky. She came in the kitchen asking if she could help and I responded with the usual, "no we are good...just have a seat", etc. She walked into the living room, saw the tree, and came rushing into the kitchen in a panic----"I can't believe I walked out of my house and left your presents under the tree....I guess I'll have to mail them"; next version after going back into the living room, "I guess I walked out without ya'lls presents and left them on my bed....I can't believe I did that". This went on for about six to ten different versions of how she forget to bring presents. It was the saddest thing. Nothing we could say could get her mind off of it.
But the saddest thing she said to me was her response to a question. My husband had told me when they came in that she was way off today but couldn't really explain why he said that. I asked her how she had been doing and if she had heard from anyone (meaning Christmas card in the mail, etc.) and she said, "well I guess this is going to be the first Christmas Mother & Daddy are going to be by themselves" and of course I just nodded and went on. Her parents have both been deceased for many years.
She had lunch with us but immediately began to get antsy. She started walking upstairs and when asked where she was going she said to her room. When my husband took her back to the home she went through the whole, who lives here? where are we going? I don't live here, etc. She doesn't know where her room is, etc. Why does this disease do this to someone? It just doesn't seem fair.
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