Dad went into an assisted living center 22 Jul 2020. He passed away 26 Nov 2020.

He did really well at first, but as at the house with me, they had a hard time ensuring he used his walker. While at the center he had a couple of hospital trips after falls. The last one was Oct 31, 2020. He was banged up, bruised, and the nurses and doctors felt he was beginning to “transition”. Turns out they were right.

Although we got to see him little after 22 Jul 2020, the few times we were able to after New Mexico loosened the Covid-grip on everyone. Jes was the last to get to visit (close quarters) with him in Oct 2020.

So, the purpose of this post is to close the chapter on this season of the blog.

I look back and have no regrets regarding the last several years of my dad’s life. I did what all I could to give him every chance to live longer. He simply didn’t want to, or could see no future for himself no matter how short.

Next post… new themes.

For three years now dad has lived in a rehab facility, been moved across country to live with my brother, and then moved into my house to live with me. Quite a change for someone who had lived on his own, in his own home since he was 18 (64 years-ish). But, since his heart attack in June of 2017, he hasn’t really had “a home” in his mind.

The last two years has been filled with all sorts of extremes and changes for us both: Highs and lows, joys and sorrows, easy-going and difficult, etc..

When I left Denver in May of 2018 to move to NM, the intent was to help nurse dad back to health and get him on his feet so he could enjoy the last seasons of his life.

While we went through all the motions of putting him back on a path to living a life together, a person has to want to live a life to pursue it.

In March of this year (2020), just before the global pandemic restricted us all to our homes, dad took three falls in two days (an exclamation point to the 13 total falls in twelve months). Fortunately (AGAIN), he had no broken bones, but it was clear the level of consistent supervision required for him to be safe had grown.

Since I could no longer leave him for any amount of time unsupervised, I reached out and found some “dad sitting” options and to begin with got set up with a weekly 4 hour errand time for myself (it felt like quite the rush of freedom the first time I pulled away from the house in my truck after two months! — oh, and yes, this was during quarantine, self-isolation world!).

These experiences caused me to rethink the wisdom of dad living with me vs affording him some opportunities he doesn’t have with me, but would have in an assisted living/memory care facility.

Thus began the pro and con debate.

After a WWF worthy match, I have found peace with the decision to afford dad some level of pseudo-independence in a community with folks in his age group, while having the opportunity for 24/7 experienced health and memory care in a room that I hope he will feel like is truly his space and not a room in one of his son’s homes. I’ve taken great care to encourage and reinforce this as we’ve talked about this decision.

So, after a long, hard two years, on 23 July of 2020, dad moved into an assisted living/memory care facility here in the Albuquerque area to hopefully make a home and a life for himself there.

And, on his second day there, I got a message from one of the caregivers that he had ventured out of his room on his own, and even participated in a group exercise session with the ladies. This makes me happy.

So we both turn the page to a new chapter in our lives.

I could list a litany of things in this post as examples, but today I’ll focus on one specific difficulty and illustrate it with (only) two all too recent instances. (SIDE NOTE: I’m saving this for another post, but being around dad at this point in our lives had made me realize I need to focus on being aware that my kids are not the same person they were when they were living with me. For more than a decade now, I have not observed their lives and all the ways they have grown and the experienced that have shaped them WAY beyond where they were years ago when they lived under my roof.)

For those of you who are parents, remember when your kids were little and they had no filters? While funny at times, it could also prove frustrating and sometimes embarrassing. Well, the old adage that older people return to being like a child is true in this area as well.

Today I finished a pretty huge, multi-month project at the house. A project that began with a very negative dad moment and now the other bookend has been tainted with an equally negative memory.

The beginning-of-project bookend occurred one evening when I had invited friends over for a meal to glean construction advice on my project planning. We shared a great meal, enjoyed each other’s company and I was provided some GREAT advice for my project. As we were at the front door bidding the friends good evening, thanking them for coming over, and for sharing construction expertise with me, dad leaned over and in a hushed voice said to the construction expert, “Do you think he can do this?”.

I was mortified and embarrassed. The friends politely finished goodbyes and departed. At that time I chose to let the moment pass counting it up to knowing in dad’s mind no one would ever be capable of anything they attempt… not just me. And thus, the beginning-of-project bitter bookend for this house project was set.

Fast forward several months to today when I essentially finished the project. There were some timing challenges as getting required materials is difficult enough when being the only caregiver for your parent, but add to that the challenge of a pandemic at the close of a project and bingo… delays are inevitable.

(SIDE NOTE: I should mention for the last three of four months, dad has been declining and he now often mistakes me for two or more different people who, in his mind, he thinks cares for him at various times. I’ve been called among other perceptions Myrna – my mother who died 3 years ago, Rick – I have no idea, and Nancy – what I would have been named if I had been a girl when born.)

This afternoon, an hour or two after I finished the project, dad suggested coffee on the back patio (I now think just to see what a sub-standard job was done on this last leg of the project) and I obliged. At this moment I think he thought he was sitting on the back patio with Rick or some other random caregiver… not his youngest son who had completed the project he was evaluating.

As we were sitting there sipping coffee, enjoying the fresh air, the gorgeous view, the new shade added by the completion of the project, and a tasty afternoon snack, he nonchalantly said to me, “I never thought he would get it finished.”, and BAM the sour tasting end-of-project bookend was in place. This was not an attempt to recognize that the project took some time to complete and that he was proud of his youngest son for sticking with it. This was the other side of the thought that prompted him to ask my friend if he thought I was capable of doing such a project.

When the filters are gone, what’s truly in the heart will find it’s way into the light… all too clearly. Now I know if he would have realized it were me sitting there in earshot, he likely would have found some finer portion of the project which he felt should have been done differently to point out.

So, if you are undertaking the task of caring for an aging parent, prepare yourself for some deep disappointments as the filters fade and what is really in their hearts slips out from time to time.

In addition, a few months ago I began adding some outlets and light switches/dimmers which could be controlled through Google Home voice commands. “Hey Google, turn on the lights.” will turn on all the voice enabled lights in the house which creates a clearly lighted path for him from one side of the house to the other.

We’ve been working on things like, “Hey Google, what’s the weather.”

“Hey Google, what time is it?”

“Hey Google, what day is it?”

“Hey Google, play some Willie Nelson music.”

Now, understand… my dad has always been (only now am I really realizing it) hyper-careful to attempt anything before he was reasonably confident he’d be perfect at it. Sadly, it prevented him from trying lots of things. We never played games with dad because somewhere, deep down inside, he was paralyzed by a fear of something. Not getting it right. Being ridiculed or laughed at. To this day I do not know why. However, I realized this restricted the learning required to become comfortable using the voice commands necessary to Google-control things around the house. My only hope was that by hearing me do it consistently he would pick it up before he became to feeble of mind to learn it.

Dad began wearing depends type briefs after his heart surgery and has never gotten out of them. Recently, for whatever reason, he’s become even more lax about changing them. Especially at night. The result has been me laundering his sheets daily for longer than I’d like to think about.

During the day I’ve been compelling him to go to the bathroom every 90 minutes to either check the brief and change or pee (or poop… OMG… that’s a whole additional later post)… whichever was appropriate. This was successful at avoiding wet spots on his pants so I had the bright idea to try it at night.

I grabbed an unused Samsung Galaxy Tab-e we have laying around that he had used to read e-books (not any longer) and set alarms at 10:30pm, midnight, 1:30am, 3am, 4:30am, and 6am and showed him how to swipe the alarm away when it goes off. We’ve had some success with the technique so I’ll call it successful. I have not had to wash sheets daily at least.

So, now the funny part. While dad doesn’t officially have Dementia or Alzheimer’s he does have old-people’s cognition issues. They seem to be worse at night.

Last night I was awakened at 1ish AM by a knock at my door. “What am I supposed to do now?” He was obviously confused (and it’s been growing of late). I explained to him when the alarm goes off it’s his clue to head to the bathroom and try to pee and/or change his brief if it’s wet. “But where do I get the pee?” There was more exchange, but finally I convinced him he needed to head to the bathroom and take care of business.

I decided to monitor things from my bed where I could hear him. Silence. I drifted back to sleep. Until, I was awakened by his voice…

“Google I’m ready to pee.”

“Google I need more pee.”

“Google I’m ready to pee.”

“Google I need to pee.”

“Google I need to pee.”

At first I cringed. Then I just laid there and chuckled for a few moments. Then he got up and knocked on my door, informed me he had changed his brief and asked for what to do next. I guided him back to bed and climbed back into my bed to try to get some much needed rest.

Dry-erase markers and mirrors are a match made for caring for adult parents… especially in the bathroom! Things are pretty fluid (no pun originally intended, but I’ll work with it!) in the bathroom with aging parents. So a dry-erase marker allows you to make, and quickly adapt as needed, a healthy list of todos which are right in front the person that needs to see it.

1. Dry-erase markers allow you to quickly adapt a routine as necessary.
2. Dry-erase markers make it easy to update or change the routine to keep the look fresh… if it’s not changing I’ve found dad gets used to it and doesn’t refer to it anymore.
3. Dry-erase allows you to add color into it to change things up if it helps.
4. You can easily work with your parent to update the list (whether you really need to or not – allowing him or her to participate).
5. If your parent has an over-the-dresser mirror in his/her bedroom, dry-eraser magic allows you to build bedroom lists as well!

What else… add to my list in the comments. How can dry-erase markers increase the quality of life/care for those of us caring for our parents?

From reading (EVERY) random sign we pass on the road, to not picking up after himself, (to potty training… shhhh), to having to be entertained (and I refuse to “sit him in front of the TV”), to making him eat what’s on his plate.

About a month ago, I got tired of being told there was too much on his plate and gave in to feeding him like he wanted to eat (and not staying on him constantly about drinking ALL his water each day). About two weeks in he started getting light headed and even was losing some visual clarity.

So I explained to him that the result of doing things “his” way had left him beginning to experience the side effects of malnutrition and dehydration. After several minutes of back and forth, and showing him the scientific research that an adult his age, even living a sedentary lifestyle, still needed a minimum of 2,000 calories per day to just maintain, he agreed to eat what I put in front of him.

Twice since then, he’s complained about the amount of food on his plate, and twice since then, I’ve had to remind him of the calories conversation and the symptoms he experienced from his malnutrition and dehydration. So far, he stays in his seat and finishes his plate, but I don’t look forward to the time when I have to tell him he is not allowed to get up from the table until he finishes everything on his plate.

We all recognize that as we grow older, our abilities to do certain things become minimized. I find that my father, for the most part, only enjoyed things that required a high level of physical strength and coordination (mowing the lawn, working in the yard, sailing, building small intricate wood projects, etc.) and now finds himself unable to do those things. A by-product of that lack of activity is that his hands and hand-eye coordination has suffered. He thinks it’s “old age” or some other condition, but most of it is simply that he doesn’t use skills he used to and therefore he has lost them.

Watching YouTube I found an occupational therapy exercise designed for little kids and modified it to something “more adult” that I thought he may do. The video with this post is his first exercise separating pennies, nickels, and dimes into separate cups. The exercise is supposed to involve one time with each hand, but after the right hand he quit today. Hopefully he’ll do a left hand later or at least both next time.

The lesson here for me is, if I don’t already have some, develop hobbies and activities that I can continue well into the latter years of my life to keep my hands and mind nimble. Take a few minutes and think about activities you enjoy and if you can continue them into your latter years. If not, start looking for new hobbies!

I remember my dad drinking coffee (lots of coffee). Drinking iced tea with meals. Having an occasional, small glass of juice with breakfast meals. Drinking an occasional beer or bourbon. But, looking back, what I now realize is I never, remember him ever drinking was water. EVER!

This has been a huge issue over the last year. We’ve been to urgent care or the emergency room six times. Four out of the six ended up being symptoms due to dehydration. (the other two he wanted to go for a sore throat and for urination issues – they sent him home with no meaningful diagnosis… he did get pre-cautionary antibiotics for sore throat though)

The more I talk to people in similar situations with aging parents the more I discover this is a VERY common issue.

My dad was diagnosed with moderate dementia several years ago. He’s been on medication (medication for older adults… that’s a “whole ‘nother” post!) ever since.

Florida, for aging folks, is a very interesting place. While there are obviously some great medical folks and facilities there… well, my impression is there are also some folks there going through the motions of caring for aging patients.

While I’m no where near a medical expert, observing dad and his situations has left me very suspicious that the symptoms that led to his dementia diagnosis may have been at least partially if not completely the result of dehydration.

When I got here, I set out to ensure he was intentionally taking in enough fluids and moving daily. The image at the top of this post is from a sheet I created and printed out weekly to track his be-healthy activities (for him, but as much as for me to keep track).

The water intake chart was useful for me to 1) know what he had and had not had, and 2) as an illustration point for him when he was feeling weak and/or foggy. I would color in each “bottle” as he consumed it. I included any meaningful H2O including that in his daily laxative (this is a later post… SMH), but only H2O. It took about nine months for him to finally accept that how he felt was directly linked to how much water he consumed the days before.

Now we’ve transitioned from the sheet to three 16.9 oz bottles of water filled daily with big bold numbers on the caps (1), (2), and (3). He begins bottle (1) as he goes to sleep each night, and knows he is supposed to finish bottle (3) before getting in bed the next night. I still have to remind him occasionally – “How are you doing on water today?”, but overall this battle is no longer one of our primary daily battles.

Lessons Learned

For The Dad

The visual tracking was invaluable in driving home that his clarity of mind was directly related to his intake of water the days before.

For Me

I’m determined to ensure my H2O intake is never an issue as I move into my senior years.

Related Links

How Much Water To Drink Daily?
Elderly Dehydration
Six Ideas to Get Seniors to Drink More Water
How to Prevent, Detect, & Treat Dehydration in Aging Adults
Getting Enough Fluids

Rather than try to catch up in one post, I’m going to just start posting and as the opportunity affords itself, I’ll also fill in the six years.

For now, in May of 2018 I left my work and home in Denver CO and moved to the Albuquerque New Mexico area to help care for my aging father (who my brother moved from Lake Placid/Sebring Florida in October of 2017 to his home in the Northeast Heights of the city).

In September of 2018, my dad and I purchased a home in the village of Placitas New Mexico (a rural bedroom community about 10 miles North of Albuquerque). More about all of that in other posts.