Memory Care Here I Come

The day arrived as any other day would. It's summer. Beautiful blue sky, warm temps. It's July. Or is it August. What day is it? What city are we in? What planet do we live on? That last question was posed to my mom. Her answer....the United States. So it is with Stage 6-7 Dementia. That flavor of Alzheimer's that hits you hard. And takes away the only thing that makes up your life: memories.

It's been about 5 years to the month since I first started this blog. Hell, I forgot to post many of the most important stories. But today is a big day. I'm moving Mom to the memory care area at Harbour Village in Glendale, Wisconsin. I can honestly say I don't think she'll live 5 more years.

My mother-in-law stayed at Harbour House, which is the quaint name for memory care at Harbour Village. I think it's one of the best in our area. With an entry price of $4900 per month, I believe it's reasonable. I didn't shop around. I heard what many others are paying. Just the other day a friend of mine said his mother is in a place in Chicago at a whopping $10,000 per month! Now, she needs advanced medical services too, which are extra, no matter where you go. At Harbour my mom's bill will be $500 extra per month for medical services. But at what price, life? For our family, we have the money to go the distance, whether that's good or bad, I don't know.

When you see some of the residents, I'd say it's not living; it's existing. Waiting to die. Many don't even know it. Their brains are so deteriorated from the disease they don't even have the cognitive reasoning to know they're dying. But hey, let's spend thousands of dollars a month so we can watch you wither away in front of our eyes. Because that's the right thing to do? Memory care. If you have no memory, what are they caring for? The more I write, the more it makes me wonder what the hell am I doing?

I asked my mom what she would want me to do if she reached the advanced stages of dementia. She said, "Kill me." And while I agree it could be a merciful thing to do, I have to let God make that decision. Plus, would I have the balls to actually do it? Her suffering isn't that great, yet.

A friend of mine, his wife and I moved my mom out of her two bedroom apartment into the "room". It's a studio, with a toilet room, a closet and a window. The exit doors are locked. Code access only with assist from the staff. Family does not get the code. Residents don't get to go outside unassisted. The courtyard is fenced, with no gates. It's kinda like a fancy prison. With Dementia as the warden. You don't even need to misbehave to receive more quarantine punishment. The disease will take care of that all by itself.

So, we're all situated now. New mattress pad to soak up the pee. Smaller bed. 1/10 of your clothes. Memories will be made at your new home, Mom. The finality of it all hits you: This is where you will die. Call it cruel or morbid thinking. But it's true.

We're All Going to Die Sometime

Such profound words from a woman with Stage 6 Dementia. The crippled mind can still associate human emotions with consequences, even if they're not the result of immediate actions. Today we met with the caregivers at Harbor Village. The time is quickly approaching when we have to make that tough decision about moving Mom to memory care.

It's been months, maybe a year since my last post to this blog. Life just flashes by; who's got time to write about memories. Especially on a blog that so few know about. But, so many are in the same boat. With Alzheimer's and dementia cases climbing at astronomical rates, lots of families will be impacted. For me, at 58, chances are I'll be diagnosed at some point. And when we reach this point where you can't take care of yourself, and your actions are viewed as "dangerous", the family is left with a choice: what to do with the patient. Remember caregiver, that's my mom (or dad).

So cold and seemingly matter of fact was the discussion.My sister is an RN and works with people who are dying: so close to death they can taste it. And they surely resemble it with their outward appearance. It's interesting when you see someone at the end of their life and think "they look like they're going to die." At least, that's the way I think.

"Mom, nobody's going to die." Those were my calming words. Even though, strangely enough, this move, this place, memory care, is about getting ready to succumb to the disease. For my mother-in-law it took 8 years of getting ready: Physically strong, mentally wasting away, it was brutal to watch this person remain alive with advanced Alzheimer's.

Relocation Need

Today I went with my mom back to Harbour Village to take a look at a unit that opened up for rent. She had lost the initial enthusiasm after our earlier visit. I think it was the cold realization that this is where she might die. Also a healthy fear of the unknown. What if she didn't like this place?

We set the appointment and I gave her directions...off the freeway....to get there. Of course, the road was under construction and she got all turned around. She called on her cell and said she didn't know where she was. Great--I had a business meeting later in the morning and things were going to get tight. I got pissed on the call. Lack of patience has always been a problem for me. I asked God to grant me serenity to accept the things I can not change. She ended up parking the car and I went and picked her up...6 miles from where we were supposed to meet!

Got to the complex, viewed the actual unit and tried to size up rooms for her furniture. The lease they have is so chalked full of legal bullshit, no 75 year old could ever understand it. Though, they do state you need to read it and understand. Right. I told her I may have to go to an attorney just to make sure. In the end, we put down a reservation deposit and now it's up to me to make arrangements to move Mom in.