Alice's Mom and Dad, Part 5: What I'd Do Differently

As you know by now, my Mom died on September 3. And my Dad’s now in hospice. So I’m about to experience a double shot to the caregiver’s gut.

It’s been a learning experience, to say the least. I’ve learned what I’d do the same, if I had it to do all over again. And I’ve learned what I’d do differently.

First of all, I had no idea my parents would live so long…my Mom was 90, and my Dad’s 91!

But they had bought only three years’ worth of long-term care. Had I known then what I know now, I would have told them they needed more…a lot more!

For their generation, my parents lived a long time. And for the current generations of younger seniors and Baby Boomers, the lessons are right there in front of their noses. PEOPLE ARE LIVING LONGER THAN EVER. OFTEN, THEY’RE LIVING WITH INCAPACITATING CONDITIONS. SO YOU’D BETTER HAVE ENOUGH LONG-TERM CARE PROTECTION!

I’ve learned that, if you can afford the monthly payments for lifetime protection…get it! Because you can’t put a time limit on illness. And you can’t put a time limit on the aging process.

I’ve learned that I should have gotten my parents policies with inflation riders, because long-term care doesn’t cost the same in 2012 that it did in 2000. And it sure as heck won’t cost the same in 2020 as it does in 2012.

In addition, I’d tell my fellow Boomers that it’s better to be a little early than a little late; once you’ve been diagnosed with an illness, it’s too late to get a long-term care policy! ( I’d also tell boomers to get into my office asap so they don’t burden their children with their long term care isues. )

Another thing I might do differently – and this is very personal – I would stop feeling badly that my brother didn’t spend more time with my parents in their end-days. My brother lives in New York. But he’s retired, and able to travel. However, as I mentioned in my last blog, our father could be a difficult man…and my brother isn’t spending much time with him. Sadly, my father’s now reaping what he sowed.

However, I would share more of the details about what’s going on with my brother; I didn’t really share with him about our mother. I should have, because he should have been aware of what I was going through. And, if I had it to do over again, whenever he started giving me advice about what I should or shouldn't do, I’d tell him that I’d welcome his advice – if he wanted to become more involved in their care.

In my career, I’ve seen too many out-of-town siblings telling the local (caregiving) siblings what they should be doing. It’s easy to give advice from a thousand miles away. But, since the out-of-town siblings don’t really see what’s happening on a day-to-day basis, I believe they should probably listen more than talk. And appreciate what the caregiver provides even if they are not living with the parents on day to day basis.

If I had it to do all over again, I’d magically move my parents closer than a 50-minute round-trip. With an active law practice and a demanding caregiver role, it would have made things much easier for me.

All of this, of course, is hindsight. And hindsight is always 20/20. None of us can predict the future. Who would have guessed, for example, that I couldn't sell my house now even if I wanted to?

 

NEXT BLOG: WHAT I DID RIGHT

Alice's Mom and Dad, Part 4: My Dad's on Hospice

As I mentioned in my last blog, my mother passed away on September 3rd.

Just a week later, believe it or not, my Dad was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. And he’s now on hospice.

Everyone in my family is amazed that he’s lived this long – until 91 – and that he’s survived my mother. My Dad is 75 pounds overweight. He has a pacemaker. The only exercise he’s really gotten has been his all-too-frequent trips to the refrigerator…where he would open the door and come out with a huge slab of ham or sausage or pork. He smoked when he was younger. And he was an ironworker – which meant he was constantly breathing soot and dust.

My Dad is not in pain, thankfully. And, for a man who lost his wife last month and is now on hospice himself, he’s in fairly good spirits.

I’m going through mixed emotions, trying to sort out my clashing feelings. My Dad can be a hard man. He was a loving man, but a difficult man…impatient, and a yeller. He was a wonderful uncle to his nieces and nephews. And though he could be gruff and loud around the house, my brother and I always knew there was never a doubt that he’d give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.

When he called me to yell at me a week or so ago, I listened for a few minutes…and then hung up on him. Ill or not, I believe he had no right to speak to me like that. I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m an adult, with a lot of responsibility…not only to my family, but also to my clients. Emotionally, physically, psychologically, and emotionally, after the past few months, I’m stretched about as far as a person can be. So, while I’m carrying an overwhelming burden of sadness about my Mom’s passing, and my Dad’s impending passing, I’m also doing what I encourage my clients to do – trying to take care of myself, and trying to look after myself as well as my Dad.

My father’s got a full-time aide. He has a Care Manager. He’s got a driver. When he was in rehab for four months, I was there all the time. I tell my clients in similar situations that we can only do as much as we can do. And we don’t have to apologize to anyone for it.

So once again, it seems, I’m on a sort of “death watch.” While I’m still getting over the death of my mother.

If I didn't know what it felt like, before, to be one of my clients, I sure do now.

Alice's Mom and Dad, Part 3: My Mom Is Gone

Some of you may recall the blogs I wrote on my Mom and Dad a couple of months ago. In the last one, my Mom was in Hospice, and my Dad was in rehab. My parents live locally in Davie.

Well, my mother, Rose Meister, passed away on September 3rd, at the age of 90. And, now, believe it or not, my Dad is on hospice. So I find myself, an elder law attorney - again - in the position of so many of my clients.

My mother's death was hardly a surprise. She had been failing for years, and she had spent four months on hospice. And I had actually been mourning her (impending death) for years, as well. I can remember vividly the time it first hit me.

My son Danny, now in law school, used to love Grandma's chicken cutlets. Once, about seven years ago, he asked her to make some for him. And her response sent chills up my spine.

"I can't," she said to Danny. "I just can't." For this woman, who loved to cook, it wan an admission that she just wasn't up to it anymore. I knew then that she was failing. And that's when I started to mourn her passing - seven years before she actually passed.

It was hard watching my son - who has already lost his father - dealing with the death of his grandmother. And it was tough watching my niece - who has already experienced several losses - going through this one, as well.

These days, I seem to drive past many things that remind me of her. And I seem to always think of questions I wanted to ask her, but can't. In fact, I can't ask those questions to anyone, because she was the last family member of her generation. She comes back to me at the strangest times, in life's little vignettes...for example, at the doctor's office, when I have to fill out a form asking for the names of my parents; or when I look at her Durable Power of Attorney and Living Will and know that I will and can't ever use them again.

To be honest, I'm also feeling, these days, a sense of relief. Relief that the long downward slide, the long-term care journey, for her, is over. Relief that she - who had deep fear of death - never really understood that she was dying. Relief that she died peacefully, in no pain, without being force-fed by medicine or that would only prolong her - and our - pain.

And relief that she simply died of old age - not disease - and with dignity, in the comforting setting of hospice.

Now, more than ever, I can really identify with my clients.

How Will I Know When My Dad Can No Longer Swallow His Medication?

People with Alzheimer's often develop trouble with swallowing as the disease progresses. Simply put, the brain no longer signals the throat to swallow. And what was once a natural instinct suddenly becomes an insurmountable obstacle.

The problem, of course, is that Alzheimer's also generally robs the individual of his ability to communicate that there's a problem. Which, of course, puts the onus on the caregiver. You've got to be aware - somehow - of when this is happening.

When it's time for your Dad to take his medication, you need to watch carefully. But just as important, you need to watch when he eats. Does he keep chewing and chewing, but never swallow? Does he keep the food (or medication) in his cheeks for a long time?

If so, you've got to take some action.

Talk with your Dad's doctor. Is it possible he's taking a medication that he can possibly do without? The doctor probably wouldn't have prescribed medicine if it wasn't necessary... but it's worth a try. If the doctor says he still needs it, can it be prescribed in liquid form? (And would your Dad even be willing to take it in liquid form, since liquid medicines are often bad-tasting?)

If the medicine comes only in pill-form, can the pills be crushed, and then put in pudding or yogurt or drinks? Or would they lose their effectiveness if crushed?

At some point, the doctor may advise that it's no longer worth the struggle to get your Dad to take his medicine.

Are you a caregiver who feels overwhelmed by the 24/7 obligation, and the 24/7 questions? We can help. At The Law Offices of Alice Reiter Feld & Associates, we have one of the largest Alzheimer's/Dementia Resource Centers in South Florida.

Over the past 33 years, we've walked thousands of South Florida families through the Alzheimer's/Dementia Journey. And we've helped protect their rights - both legal and financial - with comprehensive estate planning, wills, trusts, powers of attorney, long-term care planning, asset-protection plans, and assistance with Medicaid or the VA.

We can walk your family through the Alzheimer's/Dementia Journey, too. We're just a phone call away.