Part 2
Jill was visiting my community. Her mother had declined mentally over the last few months. Jill was now forced to admit that her mother might have reached a point in her life when she could no longer live alone. Jill needed some answers to her questions about the next step for her mom. She called me looking for options. This is a continuation of our discussion during her first visit to our community as outlined in my previous blog entry.
After I got us both a cup of coffee from the kitchen, we sat facing each other across the table in my office.
“Is your Mom aware that her memory is slipping? “ I asked.
Jill hesitated for a moment pausing to find the right words. “Yes,” she said, “and no.” The day she couldn’t find her way home, I could sense her fear. She didn’t say anything, but her voice was panicky. We didn’t talk about the episode again. On the other hand, I have often heard her mention that she forgets a lot, but she doesn’t seem to take it too seriously. I think we both have been living in denial.”
I handed her a brochure that profiled our community. The pages inside listed the prices and what they included; there were also floor plans of the apartments. I began to explain. “You will see a list of services inside that you can read at your leisure when you get home. They are self-explanatory, so I won’t waste your time discussing them with you. I'd like to emphasize there are things that the flyer can’t illustrate: the intangible advantages to living in an environment where other people suffer the same memory challenges as your Mom. To begin with, she will be more relaxed and content knowing she's surrounded with people who occasionally display the same type of forgetfulness.”
“The residents will often compensate for one and other’s shortcomings without realizing it. Their conversations may seem repetitive to you and me, but for them they're new and interesting. They're accepting of each other and are willing to offer assistance and encouragement. As an example, when one forgets a room number, there are neighbors to remind and even direct that person to their front door. If your mom fails to show up for meals, her tablemates will alert a staff member. They may go so far as to admonish her if she doesn’t eat well. On the other hand, our care staff will access her every time they interact with her, and the director of nursing will alert you if there are any unexpected changes.
“Another advantage,” I continued, “ is that your Mom will have a social network. Statistics prove interaction with others delays dementia by almost 70% or more. Our activities include word games and stimulating trivia that will also motivate her to think. You may even be surprised in time to witness a significant improvement in her memory. Once we urge her to use her brain again, she may become more like her former self.”
I could feel that Jill was impressed, but still hesitant. I also understood that she was at the very beginning of her investigation. We shook hands as she headed for the door.
“I'm relieved to see you have become proactive rather than reactive. You have a much better chance of finding a happy solution for your mother that will accommodate both your needs. I'll be in touch in a few days.”
Two weeks later Jill brought her Mother, Dorothy, for lunch. Dorothy was extremely suspicious. I took them to my office, where I asked Dorothy to tell me a little about herself. Her body was rigid, and she refused to look at me. She focused her eyes on the wall behind me while she spoke. She told me she was from Syracuse, New York, and she had moved to Florida after her husband had retired from Kodak. Her son still lived up north, although her daughter and son in law had relocated not long after Dorothy and her husband were settled.
Dorothy was not the least forthcoming in her answers. I had to ply her with question after question to entice her to talk. I looked at Jill. The stress she was feeling was acutely visible on her face. “Mom, isn’t this a pretty…”
“I cut her off before she could finish.” I knew her mom wasn’t stupid. She knew what her daughter had in mind, and at the moment, she wanted no part of it. I didn’t want Jill to make her more defensive.
“Come Dorothy. It's time for lunch. I have a special place reserved for you and Jill”
I had advised my dining services team that we were having guests. As we entered the dining room, one of the wait staff walked up to greet us. “You must be Dorothy,” the young lady grinned as she spoke. Dorothy, surprised at the use of her name, managed to force a smile in return. The young women took her hand and led her across the dining room. “Come with me,” she said. “There is someone I want you to meet.”
The young waitress lead Dorothy, with Jill a few steps behind, to a table near the window. Two residents were already seated - a man in his late eighties and a woman who I knew to be over 90 years old. The two were tablemates and ate together at every meal. The man, dressed in kaki slacks and a beige and green plaid shirt, stood up and pulled out the empty chair to his left. “Hello Dorothy,” he said as she sat down. “My name is Charles. This is my friend Madeline,” he pointed to the women sitting next to him. “We understand you are from Syracuse. I’m from Buffalo, but Madeline is from just outside Syracuse - a small town called Walton. Do you know it?”
I left them at that juncture, promising to return after lunch.
An hour later I returned to find Dorothy and Madeline still engaged in conversation while Jill sat patiently, finally smiling a little.
“Dorothy,” I'd like to show you our community. “I'm such a show off, I'm always dragging folks on a tour. Would you humor me for just a few minutes?”
As we walked, I introduced Dorothy to the residents we met along the way. Staff members, already alerted that a visitor was coming, chimed “Hi Dorothy” when they saw us coming. As we entered the elevator, a gentleman was leaving. He had his over-fed dachshund in tow. “Does he live here?” Dorothy asked. “Yes. His dog, Snooks, lives with us too. I believe I remember Jill telling me you had a dog.” She shook her head to say yes.
I showed her the model of the one bedroom apartment. It was decorated with furniture and intimate personal accessories to appear occupied. A potential resident could easily visualize its promise from the well-placed furniture and appealing artifacts. I sensed from the expression on Dorothy’s face that she was beginning to appreciate what she saw. I never once suggested that she move in.
I showed them back into my office. I began to question Dorothy more directly. “What would you like to do with the rest of your life?” I asked her. She once again became defensive. “Live in my house until I die,” she barked. I shook my head in agreement. “What if it became impossible for you to live there?” I questioned further. She looked at me intently. “I know I forget once in a while, but no matter what my daughter tells you, I'm still able to take care of myself.” She glared at her daughter who sunk slowly into her chair.
“Besides, Dorothy continued. “There's no way I can afford all this.”
“And if you could?” I asked. She looked at me intently, but she didn’t answer.
Jill and Dorothy left soon after our short discussion. Jill mentioned before leaving that her brother sill lived in Syracuse. She would call him immediately and have a serious discussion. I sighed. Jill had a long journey ahead of her, and there was only so much I could do to help.
Find out Jill’s decision and Dorothy’s future in the next few entries.
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