Hi! I am 22 years old, and am my 88 year old Grandma’s caregiver. She lives with us, and has her own addition built onto our house. We have known for quite a long time her mind has not been right, because of the dementia. Now, it has become full blown and has been that way for so long.
After a two week stay in the hospital in December due to being impacted, it had confused her greatly for awhile. Being back home and saying she wanted to get out of this place, and thinking her closet was a bathroom. After being home, her mobility became very limited, as she hardly did any walking around her house. Now, the walk from her bedroom to the bathroom (which is a few steps at most kills her legs). You can see that her lower legs are deteriorating, and it has to be the muscles having atrophied.
Besides these things, one thing that has never gone away is how fresh she can be. She is very, very vocal about someone being on the larger side. On tv, no matter who it is, “Look how fat they are! It makes me sick! How can they walk around like that?!” When we would go out to the store when she was able, she never failed to point out people to me on the larger side. She is not exactly a lightweight. She looks kind of like a grape on toothpicks, yet never looks at herself.
She seems to think that she is somewhere else besides her home. This is a place she has lived for over twenty years. Then she will ask me “How did you get this job here, Danielle? How do you like it?” I tell her that ‘here’ is her home, and she simply says she knows that it is her home. However, she does not really truly know. I tell her “How I got this job happened naturally, and I love this job!” Which answers her question and she is content.
She absolutely hates my Dad, and for no reasons at all. Other than ones that she has created in her head. In the past, they got along phenomenally together. Currently, and for a long time, she cannot stand him at all. He never did a single thing to her to make her hate him. She says “I cannot stand to look at him or be near him” and the last time they spoke was in May after getting out of the hospital again for a fall. She even has no issues calling him a bastard. No contact since then, no speaking since then.
All in all, I think this was just to “vent” but that is not the exact word I want to use. It is an adventure everyday with her, but would not trade being the one who takes care of her for anything.
The trick is to meet her where she is (mentally).
Are you studying or working? Do you have, or are considering a career in nursing?
That is a good trick! Thank you :)
I am not doing either of those, as even leaving the house for half an hour seems like eternity for her. Which is common with dementia. I have not, but my Mamma says I should be a nurses’ assistant!
While in the nursing home, she was getting around very well with the assistance of a walker. On the day of her discharge, I was told the walker she had been using was the property of the nursing home and to leave it behind. My Mom and I share a two-bedroom co-op apartment (we DID NOT have a walker at home.) We used to have one that my deceased father probably acquired during his many illnesses (two heart attacks, bypass surgery, Guillain-Barre Syndrome and a stroke. He passed away in nursing home after having one of his legs amputated, supposedly to save his life.) He has been gone for almost 24 years.
When we left our old apartment and bought into the co-op, we took the walker with us. It had been stored under a bed inside a black garbage bag. It was removed to make room for Mom's clothes storage. It was my Mom's decision to get rid of it. (What a tragic irony that proved to be.)
Mom came home on a Monday afternoon. She was VERY unhappy apartment because she thought the place still looked like a mess. I worked my tail off getting rid of unwanted mail, doing laundry, etc. She wasn't home even half an hour before she ripped into me. She said I had lied to her and wished she had stayed in the nursing home. She said it was like a hotel. So much for Welcome Home, Mom!
That night, the handwriting was on the wall. She had a lot of trouble getting out of her favorite chair in the living room. After a lengthy struggle, I got her on her feet. I escorted her to her bed and she seemed to sleep during the night. The next day a Physical Therapist came to our place to evaluate Mom's strength, range of motion, etc. He was young and very nice. We all got along. Eventually he had to leave and move on to his next appointment. From then on it was all downhill.
A few hours later, my Mom wanted to use the toilet. The plan was to keep Mom in bed, as she was prone to falls. She sat up in bed and swung her legs over the side. Her leg muscles had atrophied even before the nursing home. She was weak. I was by her side as she tried to get on her feet. I think she stood up briefly, then slid down the side of the bed and landed on her tush. Her legs were out in front of her. We have wall-to-wall carpeting throughout the apartment. I made her as comfortable as possible. Long story short: despite numerous attempts to lift her and give her traction, including socks with non-slip treads, Mom ended up sleeping on the floor overnight. Since she never made it to the bathroom, I had to change her diaper. I never had children and, until that day, had never even held a diaper in my hands. Somehow I managed to remove the old one and put on clean one.
That morning the Director of Social Work from the nursing home called to ask how it was going. It was now Wednesday and I told her what happened. It was about 10 AM and I wanted to keep trying to get Mom on her feet and back to bed. The woman I was speaking with asked why I didn't call 911 yet. I didn't appreciate her tone of voice. I did call for help shortly after ending our conversation. Mom's attitude and tone varied during the brief time she was at home. She was amiable when the paramedics came. Mom was off to the hospital on Wednesday morning. On Thursday I went to see her at the hospital. She cried and told me she was so happy to see me. She ended up at same nursing home. It's in our neighborhood. After I tested negative for COVID-19 I arranged a visit. I brought her everything she asked for. I was upbeat about seeing her and I thought she'd feel the same. She got really nasty when I told her she wasn't going home. She shouted at me that "I don't like you, I don't trust you, and I hope you get cancer!" I left deeply hurt. We will probably never be under the same roof again.
And the best line I heard from my local caregivers support group(we use it quite a bit) is that "logic doesn't live here anymore." If you can remember that, you will be just fine.