The SNAFU

December 22, 2019

It seems as though every time I try to go out of town for a few days of rest and recuperation, something stress-inducing happens at my husband's facility. Here's the latest one. Keep in mind, this is a terrific place; however, stuff happens. It happens everywhere. It just happens less there than in other places we've tried.

Prior to leaving, I dutifully sent an email to the administrator to let her know, officially, the dates I would not be available. I also included the name and number of my other contact person (our son) for this particular period of time. I told the director. I told the office manager. I told the activities director. I told the med tech who was on duty, and I saw her writing down the contact information and placing it in the med tech office. I told the caregivers.

Upon returning, there were a whole lot of messages from the facility on my land-line answering machine (curiously, none at all on my cell phone). I called back to see what the problem was, and I was told that I needed to pick up an emergency supply of a particular medication right away. It had been reordered; however, the med tech who did the ordering didn't realize that the prescription had no refills remaining. That takes longer to resolve, as we all know, and the doctor hadn't yet renewed the prescription.

I am not proud of my reaction, which was basically "Hello?! It says '0 refills' right on the bottle!" But in my defense, I had just walked in the door after a very long, delayed, stressful, and bumpy flight. I was exhausted, and my injured foot (long story) was killing me. (Who knew walking ten miles to your gate at the airport could be so excruciating? I apologize for every uncharitable thought I've ever had about anyone slowing me down. I feel your pain.) Once again, my vacation buzz was shot down within minutes of returning home.

The main reason I was upset, though, was that my "person to contact in case of problem" had not been contacted when I didn't respond. At all. Not once. This, I did not understand. And then the med tech I was speaking to told me he had no idea I'd been gone and was wondering why I hadn't returned all those phone calls. So why didn't they call my son, whose information is right there in their normal paperwork? This was a small-potatoes type of event, but what if it had been something terrible? What if something had happened to me, and that's why I wasn't responding? Would they just have left a bunch of messages on my answering machine, or would they have called my next-in-line?

Clearly, I am not having a very good day today. Tomorrow, I think I'd better go have a small chat with the administrator.* Perhaps next time there's an issue (and there will be a next time, even in the best circumstances), the dominoes won't all fall down. And while I'm at it, I think I'd better apologize to the med tech for my unfortunate, over-the-top reaction.

I saw this posted on Facebook today. It perfectly describes my current mood! It's available from a place called "A Beautiful Sign." I think I'll order one.

*Update:  Everything worked out, of course. An emergency supply of medication was expedited, careful notes were taken about my concerns, and the next staff meeting will include instruction to ensure this particular scenario isn't repeated for us or for any of the other residents.

They Can't Be Everywhere

The other day, there was an incident in the courtyard at my husband's facility. I didn't realize how much it had affected me until just now, when I decided to write about it. Rerunning it in my mind, my heart rate increased. My breathing shallowed and sped up. Trauma. I think I might have a case of PTSD with the accumulation of stress. But back to my story.

It was a glorious fall day, sunny but not too warm, the golden sunshine peeking through the leaves that rustled softly in the gentle breeze. The Hubster and I were walking slowly, so very slowly, hand-in-hand, down the walkway to the main courtyard area.

Looking around, I noticed one of the new residents walking across the way towards the patio chairs that were in the sun next to the railing. I thought nothing of it. He picked up one of the chairs as if to move it to a shaded area closeby. I thought nothing of that, either, as it happens all the time. But then I saw that he wasn't stopping. He was going faster and faster and faster, a panicked look on his face. Realizing he was unable to slow down or stop, I started to run towards him. One of the caregivers also saw what was happening and was running from the opposite direction. Too late! As if in slow motion, I helplessly watched him trip before I or the caregiver could reach him. The chair flew from his hands, and over it he rolled. Slowly, so slowly, but also so, so quickly.

Before he could right himself to sit up, the caregiver and I had both arrived, comforting him as best we could and preventing him from trying to stand in case anything was broken. The nurse was called to assess his injuries; which, thankfully, turned out to be minor scrapes by bruises. He hadn't hit his head, but it had been a close call.

The staff at the facility is wonderful. The caregivers are compassionate and well trained. But they can't be everywhere, and they don't have eyes in the backs of their heads. It only takes an instant for something like this to happen. It can happen even if you're standing right next to a person. It's the downside of allowing the residents the freedom to wander, but the alternative would be absolute confinement and restriction.

It's bad enough to be locked in a prison inside your mind, as these folks are, without also being forced to stay in a wheelchair or in bed, in restraints, while they are still capable of moving about. That would be absolutely horrible. These residents are living the best lives they can under the circumstances. That's what I want for my husband, and that's what their loved ones want for them, too.

Time Warp

All of us have experienced the sensation that hours have gone by, only to check our watches to see that we've only been waiting impatiently for that friend or phone call or event for half an hour. We quickly realize our mistake, perhaps chuckle at ourselves and our impatience, and move on to more productive thoughts. For instance, forgiving that friend for making us wait so long.

At first, I thought my husband was just being impatient like that. He would say something like, "Where have you been? I've been sitting here waiting for you for an hour and a half!" In actuality, it had been more like fifteen minutes. I've been realizing lately that he isn't simply exaggerating. He really does think it's been that long.

His concept of time is becoming warped. How frustrating is this? Very. When I tell him ahead of time that we have an event coming up later in the day (in response to his query, "So, what's happening today?"), he really does think I've asked him to hurry up and get ready for that event, even though it doesn't start until 5 o'clock, it will take ten minutes to get there, and it's currently 11 a.m. Then he's upset and irritated because I'm not ready to go. And then he's frustrated and irritated because he thought it was time to go, and it isn't, and now he's going to have to wait.

And you're thinking to yourself, "Well, so, big deal. He's going to have to wait." For most of us, it wouldn't be important at all. We would find something else to occupy our time for a couple of hours. But for him, in this case, ten minutes elapsed equals an hour imagined. He'll be frustrated and irritated again as the conversation happens again. And again. And again. And, naturally, this is frustrating and irritating for me, too.

"Okay," you say to yourself, "Just don't tell him what's coming up." I know this because I've thought of employing the method myself. In fact, I remember saying that very thing to my Mom in reference to my Dad.

But here's what I'm wondering:  How would you answer his question, then, when he asks you what's going to be happening, and you answer him with enthusiasm because you think it'll be an exciting change of pace, something to look forward to (which it is)? I'm all ears.