Mental Decline & Dependency/Coping With Aging Loved Ones

Mental Decline


The operative word here is "adult". Mr Noddy is an adult in years, but, sadly, no longer one in other respects.

I know how truly dreadful this disconnect is for you both, but I can only guess how much more difficult it is for you than it was for us.

Re: Mental Decline


After dealing with doctors who either didn't bother to check or who just didn't care lately, my first emotional response to Noddy's post was anger. Don't the doctors recognize or care that Mr. Noddy is no longer capable of being responsible for himself? And given her own physical challenges at this time, they should know that it is asking too much of her to make her his 'mother'.

And as hard as it is, sometimes we have to come to hard decisions about where the sensible and best caretaking shall take place. And that is truly one of the most heart wrenching decisions we may have to make regarding a loved one. It so often comes with residual second guessing and guilt at 'forcing' a loved one into a situation they don't want for themselves.

I'm thinking.

I knew you were and my heart goes out to you knowing how difficult it is to even think about, much less come to a decision to act.

Noddy, here I am catching up on numerous pages of hospitalizations, medication worries, recalcitrant hubby and your own serious condition.

The damn doctor going on vacation, leaving you to cope with a situation that has no happy solution, is, unfortunately, common.

Please remember to take very good care of yourself, my friend. Not only is it vital for you, it is also important for your ability to care for Mr. Noddy.
It is similar to airlines telling adults to put on the oxygen mask fist, before putting it on their children. If the adult becomes unconscious, no one else can be helped. You need to take care of yourself and I sometimes feel that you somehow feel guilty about taking time for yourself and catering to your own needs.

Phoenix, wow, you have been hit with a big one. Glad that you have found an acceptable hospital close by and that you also found a doctor who was interested enough in your condition that he actually paid attention to details and your specific needs.

Foxfyre, I got a CPap machine a year ago. As you can imagine, it is much more difficult for a woman to go to bed looking like Darth Vader than it is for a man, but it is so worth it. I felt the difference within a week. Hoping the rest of your family is doing well.

Getting old, for me, has been the best of times, but once in a while, getting old just plain sucks!

Another candle is lit, Noddy, for you and Phoenix.

I've done some more soul-searching--as well as having a restorative night's sleep.

The problem is not simply "Eat, my beloved. Eat. Eat. Eat."

The benign bullying works from outsiders because it guarantees Mr. Noddy the full attention of the outsiders. When I nag the situation becomes a Power Struggle--and no one wins in a Power Struggle.

As Mr. Noddy has declined mentally (and particularly since his older brother with whom he had a very, very competitive relationship) died, I've become a competitor rather than a helpmeet.

At one point yesterday Mr. Noddy announced, "You know, I'm probably going to have to spend some time in the hospital, too."

Mr. Noddy is not driving. Today I may well have to run to the lab for bloodwork before my Remicaid infusion on Thursday. Tomorrow I have an eye appointment to monitor my glaucoma. Wednesday, Mr. Noddy has his post-hospital follow-up with his doctor. Thursday is my IV infusion. Friday I hope to get to the chiropractor (after two cancelled appointments).

Mr. Noddy thinks it is "not fair" that I should plan to burn all that expensive gasoline.

The Visiting Nurses are sending an RN to the house at least twice a week. Thus far, she's been the heavy about enforcing the new insulin regime. I'm sure she's much more sophisticated and objective about dementia that I am. I'm also sure that she will be very helpful with informed advice about what to do next.

My son and d-i-l will be coming down from Boston next weekend. I'm looking forward to their visit as a welcome break and as two more pairs of eyes for evaluating the situation.

Mr. Noddy's decline in the last month has been dramatic. All of his sons--as well as my sons--have pooh-poohed my announcements that Something is Radically Wrong. They are now converted to reality.

While I'm putting my own health first--I intend to keep all my medical appointments this week--I'm not going to neglect or abandon Mr. Noddy. In fact, by getting out of the house--and he'll nap when I'm gone--I'm better as a caregiver.

The watchword is Low Conflict. (No Conflict isn't possible.) I have professional backup and will accumulate more.

The three Major Projects for the day are going to be:

Finding out whether or not I have to go for blood work (and milk, and orange juice and dish soap and saltines)

How to get the garbage and recycling (very heavy on paper) down a long, steep driveway on Wednesday.

Listening carefully to any suggestions that the Visiting Nurse is going to make about Mr. Noddy's refusal to keep to a schedule.

Deathbed experience isn't nearly as common as it used to be, but I watched my father, a beloved cousin and the husbands of two friends withdraw from life to embrace death.

I think this might be what is happening to Mr. Noddy. Forty years of diabetes means forty years of progressive damage to major organs. Mr. Noddy has never been a docile, rule-abiding diabetic and he's not going to start now.

His choices are more and more limited, but I feel he's entitled to them.

Holding your dominion is a complex accomplishment, but it can also be a matter of making lists and following up with realistic goals.

And, sometimes, it is easier to finally give a loved one the permission to die.

Thinking of you Noddy and praying for you, in my own way.

Mental Decline


That's one hell of a social life...

This morning the Visiting Nurse boosted my ego no end.

Mr. Noddy chose to dress for the occasion. Ever since last fall he's been wearing baggy sweatpants and baggy tee-shirts. His Man In Black outfit is supposed to evoke Johnny Cash. Instead he looks like a Halloween-themed teddy bear with the stuffing all awry.

Mr. Noddy put on a pair of shorts and a te-shirt that fit. He looked good.

Costumed, he alternated persona for Nurse Cindy between being The Bestest Little Boyo in the Whole World and the Wise & Sage Elder Who Knows More about Managing His Diabetes than the Entire Medicat profession.

Cindy shot him down, repeating that regulary routine was necessary and that the high blood sugar readings were not the fault of the new equipment but because Mr. Noddy was not following a wholesome lifestyle.

She also repeated that his out-of-control blood sugar could be causing his mental fog.

Just before she left, he asked her manfully (Bestest Boyo) just what he could do to be a cooperative patient.

She replied, "Stop giving your wife crap."

This was such a nice Monday morning. Unfortunately now that I'm home and the intake process is finished Cindy won't be back until next Monday. I'll have a week to look forward to her visit.

*********

TomKitten--

Next week will be better. On our calendar Mr. Noddy's appointments are circled in red and mine are marked in blue.

Next week there are several blank squares!

Whee!

Diane--

You've pegged it. Mr. Noddy is deliberately choosing to ignore medical theory. He'd rather be right than be healthy.

******

The combination of having blood drawn and picking up milk and orange juice at the supermarket was exhausting. I had a lovely nap and intend to indulge myself from now until bedtime--subject, of course, to the duties of a helpmeet.

Noddy, Cindy sounds like a great gal. Between the blank squares, looking forward to next Monday, and a visit from your son (I think?) you have something(s) to look forward to -- I'm glad!

I heart Cindy.

I think Cindy is what we all want for you... but more than once a week.

Still, once-a-week Cindy is better than no Cindy.

Hope Mr. Noddy takes her excellent advice...

Noddy- As they say, "You can lead a horse to water................." I am very glad that you have Cindy around to play "bad cop" to Mr. N. It takes a lot of pressure off you.

The thing is, that a person has the right to be stupid, and to do stupid things. At this point in time, you need all the energy that you can muster to keep your own body and soul together.

I think that it would be better off if you backed off from getting into "discussions" with Mr. N. about diet. He wants to do what he wants to do. By chasing after him, you might be able to make tiny changes, but at what cost to your health? As far as he is concerned, I don't think that your nagging him will make much of a difference in the scheme of things to him, but it may make a difference in your health.

One of those empty calendar squares for next week is filled. My legs are swollen and I can't bend my knees enough to cut my toenails--which is why podiatrists were invented. I'm not having toenail troubles yet--and I'm not going to.

Tai Chi--

Thank you. Sustaining Hope in a Vacuum is beyond me right now.

Soz--

Ya takes what ya can get. Mr. Noddy is already on the defensive--nothing about his rule-breaking (including sleeping until 1:45 in the afternoon) is His Fault.

He really wants to continue to be the Unconventional Diabetic, going his own ways with his own hours and a special flair for dosing himself with insulin on his own terms, but nasty, old reality is starting to bubble up in his umvelt.

Today may be the day that we have a short discussion about wilful suicide.

Phoenix--

He knows damn well what he should be doing. I'm not open to any conversations full of rationalizations which prove that none of the mess of his making is his fault.

*******

Big excitement of the day: Eye appointment.

Unfortunately the dog is feeling peckish. Her tummy is gurgling and she turned down her morning pills which were slathered with honey flavored peanut butter.

Why shouldn't the dog be in the running for Designated Invalid?

How's the dog?

And Mr. Noddy?

And YOU?

Mr. Noddy has just made me a liar by taking the car down for coffee with his buddies after I personally promised the Visiting Nurses that he would honor the Medicare strictures about "housebound".

I had a Remicaid infusion this morning and am able to tighten my shoes for the time being.

Until the macho demands about the car, it seemed to be such a good day.

Son and d-i-l will be visiting this weekend. I suspect Mr. Noddy is annoyed that the focus will not be totally and completely on himself.

Meanwhile, the swelling in feet, ankles, legs is down a bit--further down that after the last treatment (although that improvement vanished quickly).

My fingers are crossed.

Mental Decline


I doubt that you're totally surprised by this, but it is certainly hard. At least, the VNs and the various sons have finally seen for themselves how things are.

Where I live there are about 400 elderly residents, and this has certain advantages. One of them is that with so many people around, there is rarely any concealing the mental decline of someone for any length of time. When Bob was still alive, well before things reached the point of intervention by the authorities, I was several times stopped in the hall by well-meaning persons who had suggestions for coping with spousal dementia. So at least I didn't have the situation you've been dealing with for so long; people pretty well figured out what was going on. I had to bite my lip a lot to keep from telling them to butt out, but honesty compels me to admit that from a practical standpoint it was a good thing.

Anyway - I'm thinking of you both and praying for you. both.

Well, things are looking up. I saw my regular cardiologist today, and his "take" on the matter was quite different from the other doctor.

He said that I will need a valve replacement, but not right now. He figures that about three years will do it. He showed me that my stats did not change dramatically over the years. He also pointed out that since I can walk 3-4 miles at a clip, I was still functioning well enough to stick with my own valve, for the moment.

What he pointed out was that the replacement valves have a finite life, and so he would not want me to be put in a position to have to have a redo when I was in my late seventies, or early 80's.

He was kidding around, saying that he made his money doing cardiac catheterizations. He would do one if I insisted, but pointed out that there is always a danger of having the wire that is threaded through the vein poking something loose, and causing a stroke. Bottom line, he does not want to do anything unless it is absolutely necessary.

He was an absolute doll. He held my hand, and told me that he would listen to me for as long as I wanted to talk. He did say though, that if I have any symptoms like shortness of breath, I should call him immediately. He made an appoiintment for another echocardiogram in January.

He even said that I could hike, when I explained that I climb small hills, and don't do anything really dramatic. Now Arthur is talking again about going to Utah this September, but he has a bunch of stuff that needs to be taken care of. I don't think that anything that he has is imminent, so we may just be going.

Hell, we just bought two ridiculously expensive cameras, and I can take pictures in Busch Gardens will my little point and shoot.

I feel a lot better now.

Excellent, Phoenix, I'm so glad.

ahhhh, Noddy....
growling with you.

Phoenix--

Excellent news.