2. My dad's living environment is in a constant state of flux. Last week, two of his neighbours died. And one the week before that. And one a few weeks before that. It is just so very sad. Henry? He was 91 and bent in half. He spent his waking hours in his wheelchair, with his shoulders resting on his knees with his head turned sideways. He quietly, but determinedly, moved his wheelchair along the wall rail, taking hours to get from one end to the other. He had a stroke earlier in the week, and was left with an inability to swallow. Even though one of the care aids begged the Lodge's doctor to take him to the hospital and put in a feeding tube, it was decided to let him pass away peacefully (?) in his bed. He had no family.
There was a married couple in dad's neighbourhood. He looked a little bit like the old guy from UP (the Disney movie) and she was tiny and frail with Parkinson's. He was friendly and chatty and very welcoming when we first arrived with dad. And he was very gentle with his wife. I loved watching them together. She was transferred to the hospital last week, as she was having trouble swallowing. She passed away, and he is devastated. They've moved him from the double room he shared with his wife, to the room right beside my dad. As he sits in his spot in the dining room, the tears fall freely from those once sparkly eyes. Within days they had another (new) resident in his wife's (old) spot right beside him. My heart breaks for him.
Those deaths opened up some rooms for new residents. Plus a few of the already empty rooms got filled. I thought those care aids where busy with 19 patients to care for. Now there's 24.
And speaking of care aids, the unrest between management and staff keeps bubbling up. Since dad arrived, most of the experienced RN's have quit, as well as the mature care aids. We were just getting to know them, and more importantly, dad was beginning to trust them, and they're leaving. The newly hired staff is young. Fresh out of school young. They seem more scared than confident. When the East Indian man yells and hits, Leslie would hold both of his hands in hers and say to him very firmly, "Papa G? You do not yell. And you do not hit. That is not acceptable. I will help you, but you must stop this right now." Leslie doesn't work at the Lodge anymore... and when he started yelling and hitting the new young thing, she looked frightened and unsure how to proceed. The RN that night was brand new too, and she asked the other patients at the table (none who speak English) what to do.
I drive away from that place every evening with a heavy heart.
I do not want to get old.
My dad' sworld is shrinking; it's limited to his bedroom, where he has a twin sized bed, a chair, and a flat screen TV. All he has talked about this past week is his seatbelt. And how he wants to cut it off. I am out of ideas of what to do when I visit, because All (ALL) he wants is to get that seatbelt off. He is scaring other residents, because he goes into their rooms looking for a knife. Or scissors.
I ache for him.
He wonders where mom goes when she's not with him.
He doesn't remember his grandkids.
His legs and feet are swelling; they look uncomfortable, what with being doubled in size 'n all. We're having a hard time with socks and shoes... (In order to deal with the water retention, his meds have been increased... so now his nose runs like a faucet and he drools like a teething infant. Plus, he has to pee twice as often.)
He hasn't smiled in forever and oh my goodness. Can I say again just how hard this is?
3. This has been a hard season. I know, I know. God has a plan. And a purpose. And it's a good one. But, there have been days (and those days coincided with PMS) when it's all been overwhelming. I don't know how to live differently than I have been all along. So if God is stripping things away because He has something else in store for me; I need to hear from Him, because today? Right now? All I'm thinking about is replacing everything that was lost. I need to get a new job, and realistically? It'll probably look alot like my old one. I need some wheels. So I'll probably buy another Escape. I loved my old one. I need a place to live. Once this sells, I'll probably buy another one - similar (but with a suite) to the one I live in and love.
I will keep moving in that direction because I don't know what a different life looks like.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Yay for Jessica:
2. For the first time since June 9, Drew is home. Sleeping in his own bed. I am SO very thankful that he is here. I've missed him.
3. I'm thankful that I have a mom who keeps telling me I'm worth it.
Shalom,
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