3 January 2025
Upon reflection, I found my conversation with Deb yesterday disturbing. It was not unexpected that therapy would end, given her dementia and consequent lack of cooperation. And I was appreciative that she had arranged for the facility's Restorative Nursing Assistants to work with her to walk and transfer to a wheelchair.
But the advice that I rent a hospital bed that can be raised to save my back when changing her diaper presented a vision of the future that seemed delusional. Not just because of my present condition (I wouldn't be able to see what I was doing) but because Joyce is so far away from being able to live at home.
Next week, after the holidays are put away, I'll see what private nursing home options are available when her time at Golden Heights runs out. As Deb said, they'll be less expensive. And, from what I learned a year ago looking into them for my mother, more pleasant.
The catch is going to be whether they accept dementia patients (not all do) and if she is ambulatory.
On that note, I told Deb I'd like to work with the RNAs* today and that's what happened.
Christina and I had rolled Joyce to the gym to work on the SciFit at lunch time when it was free. Cassie came over to say hello to her just before one the RNAs told us Joyce should work on the SciFit for 15 minutes before she'll take her walking.
Joyce had already done an intermittent 10 minutes on the SciFit but it was lunch time, after all. And she screamed she was not going to walk at the mention of the idea. Which is where I came in, reassuring the RNA she'd do it.
So when she was done with the SciFit, which accommodates her wheelchair as part of the unit, I rolled her into the middle of the room where one of the RNAs brought a belt over to her.
She screamed but I reassured her there would be three of us with the wheelchair right behind her. She's afraid of falling, she said between screams, but she's quite mean about telling you that.
There's nothing to be afraid of, we all told her.
The RNAs took her to the hallway and got her up despite her protests. She easily walked down the hall and around the corner and part way down the next hallway before screaming and sitting down. But after a break, they got her up again and she made it to the cross way with more screaming that inspired screaming from a few of the rooms. She was scaring the other patients.
She made it most of the way across the cross way where the main desk is, following Christina in front of her, until she sat in the chair again and that was it. We'd all run out of encouragement.
I rolled her back for lunch in the hallway where there is room for her wheelchair and the table with lunch on it. Three puddles of food. Fish with tartar sauce, sweet potato fries and bread. She liked the fries but she had no more than two bites of each, except the bread. No bread.
Then she started crying because she had soiled herself. I hit the call button in her room but decided to look for Sheik the CNA to change her. She was still in the hallway after all.
I found him at the desk and he came right away, transferring her to the bed to change her and clean her up. It was late by then so we left.
But he told me earlier she had sat in the chair yesterday until his shift ended at 3 p.m. which led me to believe she watched the Sugar Bowl to the end at 4 p.m. from the chair, as she said.
Small consolation. Mostly I sense she is just drifting away and will never be able to come home. Even for a visit.
I hope I am wrong.