Mimi’s Sixth Caregiving Commandment: Stay Fluid

Fourteen days after my 90-year-old mom moved into her permanent dementia unit, at 5:30 in the morning, I received a call that she had fallen, gashed her head and had been sent to the emergency room.  I rushed over to meet her.  She was lying comfortably in one of the two beds occupying a room adjacent to the main emergency room service desk.  At the moment she was the only occupant.   She was holding an ice pack over a temporary patch that seemed to have been applied when she arrived.  With her other hand she reached out to me and we sat in silence.  My mom had primary progressive aphasia and was not able to speak. I was grateful that she was conscious and that she seemed pretty calm.  I resolved to do my best to stay in control and to stay fluid and upbeat.  The worst part of the crisis seemed over. As I sat there in my workout clothes, I resigned myself to a morning off from my normal regimen.  We sat and sat and sat.  While we waited, I mulled over what could have happened.  What kind of metal object could have caused this?   Nobody interrupted my thinking process.  Finally an attendant appeared and took Mom’s vitals.  Then she left.  Out in the nearby rotunda, I could hear two gentlemen chatting away in between pauses while they apparently were slurping their morning cups of coffee.  “Did you see the way Lamar (Lamar James, the Cleveland Cavaliers basketball star) handled that ball last night?  That three pointer was terrific.”  Another attendant came in to adjust the IV that had been placed in Mom’s arm.  She didn’t say “How are you feeling?” or “What can I get you?”  I got the message that the emotional part was my job.  Again, I swore to continue to remain calm and fluid.  After all where were we really going except back to the dementia unit?  At the front desk the gentlemen continued their discussion about the game. Finally I decided to go to the desk and attempt to join in the gentlemen’s conversation.  My husband had watched the contest as well, and I had eavesdropped while he had been riveted to the television set.  The men wore green scrubs with affixed badges that identified them each as doctors.  We chatted for a few minutes about the game, and then I brought up the subject of my mom!!!  Did they have any immediate plans for her?  I figured I could ask now that more than an hour had passed since she had arrived.  Not too much later one of the doctors entered our room and the wheels began to turn.  Various lab assistants prepared Mom with a series of shots and salves before the doctor completed the procedure by administering eight stitches.  When Mom was declared to be in stable condition, she was brought some breakfast and we could relax a bit.  Then the paper trail began which took another hour or so. After preparations were made to check her out, I was asked how I wanted Mom to be transported back to her dementia unit.  I opted for an ambulance.  Little did I know I would receive a bill for $700 to cover the cost!  Medicare, I learned later, does not pay for this expense. Maybe I was too fluid!!!

 

Mimi Pockross Biography

Mimi Pockross has been a freelance writer for more than thirty-five years.  She is a graduate of the University of Illinois and Northwestern University.  She has published many articles on the arts, education and family and is the author of two books.  Her latest book is The Takeover: An Unexpected Caregiver’s Story in which she writes about becoming the primary caregiver for her elderly parents.    The mother of two sons and the grandmother of two boys, Mimi lives in Denver and Vail, Colorado with her husband of forty-nine years.  She is also the author of Shopping for a Living: A Memoir on Merging Marriage, Motherhood and Merchandising.

The content of this article and the opinions expressed are solely those of Mimi Pockross and do not necessarily reflect those of AARP or any of its affiliates.