Day 5 in Assisted Living - The Storm

As I was leaving the Village at Mission last night, I complimented the apron of one of the residents. Well, that turned into a 45-minute conversation about his life. “It was my wife’s,” he said. “She loved flowers.”

If you sit and listen, you may realize there are so many conversations that circle around home, and that’s exactly how our conversation started.

“My wife was an apartment child,” he said. “And when her parents finally bought their first home, she got to have a garden and plant flowers. She loved them and knew so much about them,” he told me.

Then he told more of his story: born in 1937, he grew up in what we now call “off-the-grid” Wyoming. Born at the end of the depression and the start of the dust bowl, life was hard for his family: They were sheep farmers. At that time a school was required within 3 miles of you or you’d get paid mileage to get your children to school every day - in one room schoolhouses. There’s a LOT to this story, but the important part is what he said next.

“Our neighbors lived 10 miles away. And because there wasn’t a school close enough, they got a private education. That teacher married their oldest son and they had a model T car. We could hear it coming our way from 10 miles away!”

When I recounted that story with Moe this morning she said, “Wait. I’ve heard that before! I just read about that!” While I don’t know for sure, I do know they have a newsletter and I’m wondering if this man was the featured resident.

This is important because she has been so foggy lately. She often says things like, “Well, I better get going,” or, “It’s time for me to go home.” Sometimes she is very present and other times she’ll get confused mid-sentence. There are times she recognizes her confusion and she’ll make a silly sound to call it out and other times she thinks she got out everything she was thinking.

I’ve started playing along instead of fighting it, as I know fighting it and trying to get her to understand what’s going on when she’s confused won’t do any good. It’s so weird to see her like this - but it is what it is so I have to do what I can. The good news is she isn’t fighting anyone are arguing about going home. Instead she says things like, “are you sure?” to which I reply, “yes,” and that seems to give her the confidence she needs to move on to another thought.

I visited her twice today: once in the morning and once in the afternoon.

Yesterday they were able to feed her dinner (meaning, THEY fed her) and she ate all of it. So when the nurse shared with me she wasn’t eating her breakfast, I was hopeful I could help. Nope, she wanted nothing to do with it ;( I have been advised that when she stops eating, her body will completely shut down. The goal is to keep her eating at least a little bit every day.

When I got there this morning it was pouring rain, and pretty dark due to that. One of my other favorite moments with her was when I opened up the blinds to show her the rain. She said, “It’s so dark! And it’s 9:30! Why is it dark?” to which I said, “because it’s raining! Wait, how did you know it’s 9:30?” and she said, “I just did!”

It was 9:10, but close enough for me given that she has no idea what day or time it is most of the time. She then saw a commercial for chicken tenders and thought those looked really good, so it doesn’t surprise me that when I arrived in the afternoon she had just received some chicken tenders (and onion rings) per her specific request.

She’d promised the nurse she’d at least TRY them, and that’s as far as we got. While I’m sure they tasted fine, she wasn’t interested. She was a lot more confused this afternoon than she was in the morning and when she’d make slight movements to try to get comfortable she’d make a grimacing face. Prior to today she’d said she’s not in pain at all, but that face movement said otherwise. Her hospice nurse, Av’i, had given me a check up earlier and said she’d been doing that before and they’d given her something for the pain. But when I was there, it seemed to become more frequent, so I asked that they help her get comfortable again.

At this time I thought the storm was over and I told her as much, and not 5 minutes later it started pouring and there was some thunder. She quickly covered her ears and I could tell she was uncomfortable - she said it was really loud.

So I pulled up my phone and checked the weather - TORNADO WARNING.

Not a watch. A warning.

The nurse came in with pain medication right at that time and I quietly showed it to her. There weren’t any sirens and it didn’t specifically mention where we were, but suddenly I was worried. “Yes,” she said, “We’re going to get the residents out.”

As I felt like I’d be more of an inconvenience than anything else at that time, I chose to go home. But before I left they were watching the news and the warning was lifted - so they continued business as usual.

Until now I’ve never thought about what happens in an emergency in a home like this where the residents ALL need extra care. My aunt, for example, can’t even get up alone or walk: she has to have multiple people or a lift device. So, in a state of emergency, what happens?

It appears they do the best they can as fast as they can.

Summary of today? For the first time in weeks, she’s showing signs of pain. I’m not sure if it’s the cancer or from her fall last night, but either way it’s there. We are staying at 2 visits a week with Hospice.