Big Daughter is Watching You

My father is back in his apartment and making progress, there’s a few humbling changes to his routine. No more late night showers when no one can hear him scream. He brags about how he’s gone high tech with a computer glued to his wrist. Dad will comply with just about every suggestion as long as pizza is supplied. He’s enjoying the attention of pretty girls who are helping him regain his independence. He became disillusioned when I explained that Medicare doesn’t cover aides to scrub his back or put lotion on his feet. “You told me that insurance pays for everything,” he lamented. Well, almost.

This morning we drove through a rainstorm (rare in this beach town) for various appointments. Due to lack of sunshine, I decided to hang out in the facility’s courtyard to catch up on local gossip. To my surprise, ladies came over to say "oh good you're here, if you're not I get worried." It was like having a dozen Jewish mothers in absentia. Meanwhile 99-year old Ida volleys with "you? You're still here? Don't you have a home?"

Tonight’s meal in the main dining room was delayed due to the Board of Trustees meeting in the lobby next door. Food delivery was ignored while the Board members feasted on wine, stuffed mushrooms and chopped liver. Things got ugly. Seniors started yelling and clanking their empty plates just like prison inmates. I joined the Board meeting, chatted with the CEO, and brought back appetizers to Dad’s table, plus 2 glasses of wine for me. This violated many rules, including kosher safeguards, and gained me a round of applause from everyone. The bartender gave me a nice bottle of Chardonnay to sneak into Dad’s walker basket.

I'm not a saint, I have periods of resentment. However being here is time well spent and an amazing learning experience. Interactions with my father eerily parallel my patient advocacy schoolwork and provide lots of material; it's easy to get As on essays.

The best incident of the day: Dad happily commenting to his buddies “I have so much to write about in the next chapter of my autobiography!” I had the same idea.

Life in Rehab

"Tried to make me go to rehab but I said, 'No, no, no . . .” My father has been recovering in the skilled nursing unit at his retirement village for 2 weeks, with 1 more week to go before being released back to his apartment. He is dealing with everything gracefully, and I’m spoiling him to soften the blow. I spend many hours distracting him. I smuggle in food every day to bribe the nursing staff and to keep Dad’s spirits up: donuts, bagels, a meatball sub. I’m holding back on the sugary treats because his doctor lectured us to focus on protein. Dad uses my laptop to watch Mel Brooks and Monty Python movies. I took it back to write this post and noticed the keyboard was full of greasy crumbs.

I’m getting lots of feedback, mostly that I’m an amazing daughter when so many other kids never show up, which makes me sad. Sometimes the comments catch me off guard. Norm, my father’s neighbor, who is dying from COPD and dementia, told me “you look sexy, can I grab a feel?” I declined his kind offer. I saw him later that day and he said: “You look tired.” I explained that I excelled at being both sexy and tired. He said he could relate. I held his hand.

Yesterday was Staff Safari Day – the dress theme was jungle shirts and helmets. One hard-of-hearing lady misunderstood and thought it was Sephardic Day. That actually makes a lot more sense for a Jewish facility.

I’m consulting with the management team to upgrade the safety pendant system. I showed some of the residents Dad’s new watch to prevent falls, and asked them “would you wear it?” They argued about its merits. The director of the independent unit told me afterwards: “When I fall, I won’t press any button. I don’t want to be old and broken. I would just let myself go.” I understand.

Sid is progressing; he gets constant physical and occupational therapy. Using a walker, he travels to his apartment each day to visit his comfortable recliner. We’ve rearranged the bathroom to be safer, incorporating his suggestions. Adjusting the height of the shower bench was no easy task; Mom used it for a decade and the legs were rusted into place. I realized that Dad’s toolbox, brought over from his old house and stashed away in the ancient file cabinet, would finally come in handy. I found the WD-40 oil and a ball peen hammer, and whacked away at the bench. Dad was impressed that I was so handy. The supervising therapist was slightly scared, asking me “what exactly do you do?” I smiled and responded “whatever is necessary.”

A Horrible Week

This post is one of my intense ones. You can skip ahead for the cute anecdotes if you like.

Dad slipped in the bathroom 5 days ago and lay bleeding and injured on the floor for 14 hours. He couldn’t reach the call button and he had removed his safety pendant to take a shower. He wasn’t able to answer his phone or door; eventually the housekeeper heard him yelling and he was rescued. He is physically damaged but mentally alert, and will hopefully respond to intense therapy. The rehab unit is located next door to his regular building - there was one bed available which was held for him.

Moments that will stick with me for a long time:

• The treating physician at Scripps Hospital ER calling to ask if he could text me photos of Dad’s battered face to consult to make sure the swelling was related to skin cancer treatment and not the fall – versus Dad’s regular specialist laughing when I tried to send him a picture, saying “I don’t do tele-dermatology, honey.”

• Dad’s friend Shirley taking me into a hallway to press ziplock baggies and rubber bands into my hands, her caring effort to keep my father safe in the shower.

• Rushing into Dad’s room with a box full of Costco hot dogs and sauerkraut to find 3 nutritionists discussing his dietary preferences and their recommendations for a healthier lifestyle – oops.

• Dad somehow broke the audio on 2 TVs – one in his hospital room, one in rehab. I believe it was Mom showing up to get a word in.

• The occupational therapist asking Dad to take off his shirt and he responded “what for? I barely know you!”

• Dad introducing himself at the dining room table to 4 semi-functional ladies with “Hi I’m Sidney and I’ve been a damn fool” (they ignored him).

• 99-year old Ida’s withering look when I asked if she was able to hike over to the rehab unit with me to visit Sid (she walks faster than me).

• Ida telling me how she was mad at Sid for being a sloppy eater, he embarrasses her at special events because he doesn’t tuck in his shirt. I informed her that since one of my best friends just died from an exploding heart, and my brilliant, kind and somewhat messy father almost died a week later, I really didn’t give a crap about etiquette. She then shut up and apologized.

• The physical therapist on his medical team who recognized me and said “hey aren’t you the one who taught us how to dance Thriller?” (karma paying forward).

• The nurse who stopped me in the parking lot to tell me that the list of medications I provided was incredibly helpful because it not only listed Dad’s drugs, but WHEN he took them throughout the day. It allows the staff to better calibrate his meds. Dad prepared the list on his computer 2 years ago; I found and updated it. We both get bonus points for good planning.

Please prepare the following, if not for yourself, then for the people who will be taking care of you:

• Living Will and Advance Directive. Google the free templates and just do it, look at http://www.agingwithdignity.org/
• Healthcare Proxy. Who will make medical decisions if you can’t talk?
• Have your current insurance card on file. Bills going to the wrong place are a nightmare to fix.

Emergency responders had to access all of these documents within 5 minutes for my father’s treatment. Some of the documents kept by his facility were out of date. I had everything ready in a binder that I carefully prepared – and the binder was in Seattle, with me. Luckily I showed up on the scene pretty fast. Fortunately the EMTs and doctors made smart assumptions and everything went smoothly.

Dad is getting excellent health care, I am impressed and grateful. I’m now in Seattle and will be driving back to San Diego in a few days; I’ll be there for a month. This trip was already planned; however it now takes on enhanced importance. Sid has a new state-of-the-art waterproof watch that will function as an emergency alert system linked to activity sensors, tell the time, track medication and even track his steps (no, it’s not a groovy Apple watch, it’s a Lively Smartwatch: http://www.mylively.com/). And he has promised to actually wear it.