One Day More

Just one day more and 2015 will be no more but we will have the memories of a year gone by. For Dad, there are no memories of the year gone by. He lives in the moment, one day at a time. For the rest of us, well, we just keep getting older and it is not always fun.

However, Dad did have some good news. On my last post I informed you that Dad was being treated for wound on his left foot and that the initial treatment was working. Well, after a month of weekly doctor visits, the wound is now almost completely healed! During November he only needed a couple of follow-up visits and his last visit to the doctor on December 17^th indicated that the treatment worked perfectly. His next follow-up is not until mid-January, 2016; perhaps a good start to a new year.

At one of the doctor's visits.

The wound improving.

At the Marin General ER

While the treatment on the wound has been successful, there were some scary moments. On November 19^th I arrived at the doctor’s office late and Dad was not there. I phoned the nursing home to find out Dad was going to be sent to Marin General Hospital because he was “complaining” about chest pains and his blood pressure was high.

Fortunately the hospital was near the doctor’s office and I arrived there be the ambulance arrived with Dad. About 15 minutes later Dad was in the ER and I was with him. Blood tests, x-rays, and an EKG were taken. I sat patiently waiting for the results. Then a couple of hours later an ER staff person came and put the boot back on Dad’s wounded foot.

I asked the attendant if that meant that Dad was going to be released and he said, “Yes.” He asked me if the doctor had come to speak with me and I said, “No!” He advised the doctor that I was waiting and she came immediately to speak with me and apologized. Then she proceeded to tell me that all the tests were fine and Dad was released.

At lunch with Dad.

A few days later on Sunday, November 22^nd, Joyce, Jeremy and I had lunch with Dad at his nursing home. He ate his meal with our help and sat there and stared at us and others in the dining room. While we were eating, a woman was going around the room playing a harp. When she arrived at our table I asked if she knew any Latin or Hispanic tunes. She thought for a few moments and then began playing. And Dad responded to the music! He moved is fingers to the beat and we could tell that the music triggered a memory or a familiar feeling. It was wonderful to see!

One day more with Dad is a treasure.

Dad with his grandson Jeremy.

Dad loves the milk shakes Joyce brings him.

My ever so serious Dad.

Dad says, “I’m from San Antonio!”

As Dad advances deeper into the abyss that is dementia there are moments of brightness when he recalls a fragment of his identity. One such moment occurred at a doctor’s visit on Thursday, September 24^th. As Dad is being wheeled in to the waiting room he bellows out to everyone, “I’m from San Antonio!” That brief statement brings smiles to my daughter and me because he remembers his hometown, which tells us not all of his memories are forgotten.

The purpose for Dad’s doctor visit on Thursday was to follow up on treatment he is receiving for a wound on his left foot that was not healing properly. There was concern that there might not be enough blood flow to the foot so a vascular surgeon was consulted three weeks ago. The surgeon concluded that there was enough blood flow that the wound might heal on its own with specific treatments. The surgeon also stated that given the extent of Dad’s dementia he would not be a good candidate for surgery; in fact he could fare worse than better with surgery. We all agreed that the best treatment would be comfort measures, which include treating the wound and an antibiotic. If the treatment proved to be ineffective amputation of the toe would be considered.

On Thursday the doctor observed that the wound was indeed improving despite a problem that occurred at the care facility over the weekend (which I will not dwell on since he is improving). The treatment with the antibiotic and dressing are working and the doctor recommended continuing the treatment. Another follow up is scheduled for next Thursday, October 1, 2015.

More of Dad’s Recent Recollections & Episodes

While waiting in the examining room for the doctor to see Dad, my daughter gave my almost three-year-old granddaughter a lollipop to keep her occupied during the visit. As my granddaughter was sitting directly across from my Dad we could tell he was keenly interested in what she was doing. So my daughter asked him if he would also like a lollipop to which he responded affirmatively. My daughter unwrapped a lollipop for him and offered it to Dad, however instead of taking the lollipop with his hand he leaned over so she could feed it to him.

Dad's great-granddaughter enjoying her lollipop.

Dad's granddaughter helping him enjoy his lollipop

After the doctor’s visit, while waiting outside for the transport back to the care facility, Dad kept looking down and saying, “Move your butt outta here!” Alarmed, since other people were walking by, I asked, what was wrong. He said, “Look!” as he was gazing at the ground. He said, “Tell them to move their butts.” I looked down and could only see some leaves. So I brushed the leaves aside. He responded, “That’s better.”

On Sunday, September 20^th, my sister and I visited Dad at the care facility. He was in a rare, chatty mood even though he kept nodding off to sleep. He would stare at his daughter with suspicion and asked me, “Who is that? Is she a nurse?” He did not seem convinced when told she is his daughter. Throughout our visit he would say things that did not make sense to us but he seemed to know what he was talking about. At one point he asked if we’d heard from “Uncle Bruce” (he has no Uncle Bruce but a son named Bruce). He mentioned “Joe” but was not sure who he was (it is his brother). Then he was chattering away with what seemed like random words and he completed his thought by saying, “And that’s why I can’t talk to Paul.” (Paul is his other brother). Finally out visit concluded with Dad looking at me and telling my sister, “That’s my dad there.”

My Dad with his father, Pablo, his brother Paul
 and youngest brother Joe back in the 1940s.

Dad with his brothers Joe and Paul
a few decades ago.

Back in June on Sunday the 21^st we had a small family reunion at Dad’s nursing home. Besides my wife and I, there was my brother Bruce and his wife Bonnie, my sister Joyce, my daughter Tabitha, her husband Kevin and Venice, Dad’s great-granddaughter. Dad enjoys watching Venice and she calls him “gramps.” Dad was in a good mood and we all had an enjoyable visit.

Family reunion on June 21, 2015

Dad with his two boys and a girl.

That’s my update for now and I conclude with this final thought: getting older is definitely not always fun but amassing a lifetime of memories is a treasure! Journal your memories, some day that might be all you have to rely on. 

We are Strangers Who Come to Visit

One of the challenges we deal with each time we visit Dad is to get past "the stare." As we approach him, he looks at us with suspicion and apprehension. His facial features say, "Who are you and what do you want?" After a few minutes he will begin to relax since we've shown no signs of wanting him to do things he doesn't want to do.

One visit a few weeks ago, he was very upset and wanted to know where were his children. Dad's daughter, Joyce, tried to reassure him that his children were right there in the room with him. But he couldn't see them. He kept getting more and more agitated and asked, "Are they okay?" Once again Joyce tried to reassure him but to no avail. Then it dawned on me that we were strangers and the children he was worried about were young children, not grown ups, not us. We told him his children were fine and at home then he calmed down.

Each visit presents varying challenges of how to interact with Dad and his mood. Sometimes we just make small talk based on observations or what he seems to be interested at that moment. When he is upset we try to comfort him. Sometimes we'll play some music or show him a short video. He will usually respond with a stare, sometimes with laughter or a smile, but most of the time he will just cry.

This video demonstrates our challenges with interacting with Dad:

On May 18, 2015 We (Joyce, Shelley & Jay) attended the quarterly "care" meeting at the facility. We were informed that Dad is doing quite well physically. His weight is up to 145 lbs. He is eating well and loves the sweets. The facility recently held an ice cream party and Dad ate two large bowls with all the toppings. However, mentally, he continues to deteriorate. But that is expected, however difficult it is to see.

Here are some photos from recent visits:

Shelley and Joyce with Dad.

Joyce trying to comfort Dad.

Joyce, Dad and me acting silly.

Dad's sadness.

Waiting for lunch with other residents.

Shelley feeding Dad.

With Shelley's help, Dad ate all his lunch.

Dad with Shelley, me, and his great-granddaughter Venice.

Thank you for reading, It's Not Fun Getting Old and please let me know what you think of the new design.

Just Another Friday the 13th

Friday morning of February the 13^th began optimistically, the sun was shining and I felt refreshed. I was going to see the doctor late morning and planned a relaxing rest of the day, maybe work on some of my projects.

I arrived at the clinic a couple of minutes before 11:00 a.m., checked in and was told there were four others ahead of me. I figured I’d be done and out by 12:30 p.m. So I sat and waited to be called. An hour after arriving I was finally called in by the nurse who took the customary vitals and she then escorted me to the exam room to wait to be seen by the doctor. So while I sat waiting, I could hear various conversations going on between the doctor and staff and patients (the nurse had left the door open). From the conversations I could easily deduce that the doctor was not having a good day and everyone else was getting restless.

Meanwhile, I checked by phone for messages since I’d complied earlier with the request to shut off cell phones. That’s when I noticed I had a missed call and voice mail message from Pine Ridge, my Dad’s nursing home. The voice mail said that the nursing home had an update about my Dad. An update? So I texted Shelley to call Pine Ridge to find out what was going on. That text was sent at 12:58 p.m. and by 1:14 p.m. I hadn’t heard anything from Shelley, so I sent another text: “What’s going on with Dad?” Shelley texted back, “Can you call me?” That is not a good sign, is it?

I call Shelley and find out Dad has fallen out of his wheelchair and hit his face on the floor. The person at the nursing home said he was okay but was being transported by ambulance to the ER at Marin General Hospital. Need I say it again, not another good sign? Mind you, I’m still waiting to see my doctor. When the doctor finally gets around to me, I am a little stressed. The doctor is with me for all of 5 minutes and tells me to wait for the nurse to finish things up and for a couple of prescriptions.

Finally at about 2:15 p.m., the nurse comes with my prescriptions. As she is reviewing them with me she says, “Oh dear, the doctor wrote the wrong name on this prescription, she’ll have to rewrite it. Have a seat and wait.” I’m about ready to explode but what can I do? So the doctor rewrites, the nurse brings to me and I’m out of there by 2:30 p.m. Oh well, at least I won’t get stuck in traffic!

When I arrive home I receive a call from the ER doctor. He tells me Dad has a severe head injury and wants to run more tests to check for possible spinal injury, a concussion, and anything else that might show up. Dad’s dementia makes it very difficult for a doctor to assess what is going on when Dad doesn’t even know what is going on. The doctor needs my okay since I have POA and Dad has a DNR. I give the okay and say we’ll get to the hospital as soon as possible. It is now 3:00 p.m.

Meanwhile, Shelley tells me we need to go pick up another prescription (for her) back at the clinic. So I call Joyce, my sister, at work and asked her if she can get off early. Since I have to return to the clinic we agree to pick her up from work at 4:00 p.m.  That should give me enough time to go back to the clinic, return to get her, drop off the prescription at the pharmacy and then drive the 40 miles to the hospital.

Shelley and I pick the prescription and head to Joyce’s work and, of course, we are now stuck in traffic. We finally arrive at Joyce’s work just after 4:00 p.m. and we head to the pharmacy. I go in to drop off the prescriptions, encounter some minor problems then I return to the car to begin the drive to Marin General.

Well wouldn’t you know it, the car won’t start!! I made several attempts to start it but nothing. Frustration and blood pressure building. While sitting in the car trying to figure out what to do next, Joyce goes into Target to buy some water for Shelley. I decide to try starting the car again, it has been about 10 minutes since my last try, and, yes, the car starts up. By now Shelley is exhausted, after all she is still recovering from major surgery, and we decide to take her home. So now Joyce and I head out to the hospital at 5:30 p.m.

While on the drive to the hospital, I receive another call from the ER doctor (I recognize his number) but we are in a dead zone and get cut off, those damn hills! A couple minutes later I call back but I’m put on hold with the most annoying music playing…I think they do it on purpose to make you hang up. So I hang up just as we are arriving at the hospital. It is now 6:30 p.m.

Joyce and I enter the ER, which is very busy, and everyone is wearing a yellow surgical mask. We are handed our masks and told to wait. While waiting, the doctor calls again and I tell him we are in the waiting room and he says, “Great, I’ll come and get you and bring you in to see your Dad.”

Doctor Martin greets us at the entrance to the ER and gives us an update and takes us to see Dad. Dr. Martin said none of the tests showed any complications and that he was going to release him back to the nursing home where Dad would be in familiar surroundings. The ER staff just needed to clean him up, remove the IV, take off the EKG attachments, and he would be ready to go.

Dad's head injury at Marin General ER.

Paramedic David meets patient David.

By now Dad is more alert and cooperative. The nurse who got him ready said to Dad, “Take care of yourself.” And Dad responds, “It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think.”

The paramedics have now arrived to transport Dad to the nursing home. The paramedics are very nice and considerate. However, Dad is starting to get agitated and feisty.  As the paramedics begin shifting him from the hospital bed to the gurney, he looks at the driver with an angry face and says, “Leave me alone, pendejo!” The driver smiles, ignores the comment and does his job.

Back at Pine Ridge Care Center.

Joyce giving Dad some water.

The ambulance, Joyce and I leave the hospital at about the same time. It is now 7:00 p.m. and we are stuck in traffic. Joyce and I arrive first at the nursing home and the ambulance arrives a couple of minutes later.

We settle him in his room, the paramedics leave, and Joyce and I try to feed him a snack. Dad still has a bandage from where the IV was removed and in between bites on his sandwich he tries to eat the bandage.  I try to stop him. He gives me a dirty look and says, “Leave me alone pendejo!” 

We leave the nursing home about 8:00 p.m. and drive home with a stop at Chipotle for dinner. At the end of the day it was just another Friday the 13^th. 

One Year Ends and a New Year Begins with Visits from Dad’s Daughter

Ever since Dad has been living at the Pine Ridge Care Center, Dad’s daughter, Joyce, has only been able to talk to him by phone. On December 25^th she was able to visit Dad in person for the first time in three years.

It was a tearful reunion. Here are some photos of that day:

 

The New Year began with more visits. As you can see from the photos, Dad is eating well and he loves to have his back scratched.

We are looking forward to many more visits with Dad during 2015. You are welcomed to come join us.