Caring for Irene

Irene was a vibrant, intelligent, and much loved woman who was suddenly gone from social affairs. Her home community wondered, yet never heard plainly what precipitated her changes. This is an elder story.
It used to be that we were all connected in a few short miles, and we cared for our elders as well as our young ones at home. We all knew what was going on because we were all on duty. It took a whole village to raise a family and that included caring for the elders.
Times have changed, only in that we are living longer, are more spread apart, and we are busy in careers and vacations from careers. Because we live longer, we need even more family care. However, we like to think of ourselves as independent and we have called that good living.
Then along comes disease, loneliness, and decline. How does one change routine and find supportive new ways to live?
Some of you know what I am talking about. It’s the uncharted path. Who takes the time to listen, understand, and interpret what to do? Maybe our parents don’t need 24/7 medical care, but do need personal care 24/7. Perhaps their declines now put them at risk to themselves, despite what used to be safe.
How do we navigate this web when families don’t agree?
Irene had charm, grace, and made everyone feel valued, and she asked for little in return. As she aged, her exuberance and vitality turned into worry and anxiety, and conditions left her struggling in her appearance of independent and capable.
One day, her son — in an act of kindness — sent her to be with her daughter out of state for rest and rejuvenation, and that is when Irene decided to stay for the care she needed.
Irene just celebrated her 90th birthday as an Alzheimer’s patient. According to an article in the Jan./Feb. 2015 AARP Bulletin, Alzheimer’s is a disease that now claims an estimated 5.2 million and is rising sharply. She has enjoyed new and rewarding social experiences that are tailored to her needs, and her daughter has been her personal caregiver for the past three years. Recently Irene moved to a small assisted living facility.
Irene’s life isn’t over, and neither are her care needs. Alzheimer’s has no medical cure, and can progress slowly and last for years. That makes care expensive and the savings of the elder need to remain accessible.
Families that handle elder transitions best are prepared and work agreeably for the sake of their parent. With plenty of challenge in the bumpy ride of elder care giving, it’s good to keep the focus on the elder — not allowing old disagreements to take the stage.
Dementia is also hard to accept. Sadly, families can challenge each other rather than submit to the new reality and dynamic of the disease. Family should mean that nothing or no one is allowed to move us away from the respond-ability of giving back to the ones who gave to us.
We are all truly interdependent, and care requirements are exhaustive. Dr. Marion Somers, Gerontologist, reports that 31 percent of all caregivers die before the person they are caring for.
Inevitably the journey is labor intensive and burdensome financially. Without family cooperation, unequal loads place the primary caregiver at higher risk, and to top matters, any discord or stress is very palpable to the elder. This is not the way we want to send our loved ones onto the next world.
Irene cannot articulate the way she’d like to these days, nor understand the “how to” of many things due to memory loss. She wanders, is unreliable by words or actions, and is often sleepless for days. She needs help with all her basic functions, yet she loves music, and on good days still gains the admiration of those who listen to her play piano.
On days she is deeply sad, she says it is because she knows she is “falling short,” and wishes she could do better, but her deepest wish is for her family to be happy, healthy, and harmonious. She is still there, and knows on another level what is going on.
Often, Irene is pleasantly distracted — watching birds and children, interacting with small pets and kind, friendly people along her path. She loves flowers, trees, the stars, and the moon. She finds the goodness in life and still remembers to pray, astonishingly reciting the 23rd Psalm.
She is still Irene. Dementia has stolen many things from her, but it can’t steal her heart — for love is not a memory. It is a feeling in the soul never to be forgotten.
I hope that in sharing this writing, someone else has found the courage to make a path easier in someone’s life — if not in his or her own. For soon enough we are the ones hoping to be kindly cared for on our way to the next world.