Caring for the Elderly Part 17
My Mother moved into a care home on April 7th this year. Her health was already very poor due to her age (91). She was bed bound, partially sighted, suffering from increasing hearing loss and unable to feed herself. Rapid onset dementia meant that her behaviour had become erratic and she was a danger to herself. Hence her caring needs could no longer be safely managed within a home environment. Fortunately the care home proved a good choice. For the past four months they have provided outstanding care and have treated my Mother with dignity, respect and genuine kindness. Sadly, during that time my Mother had several bouts of illness that saw her hospitalised four times. Eventually a PEACE plan (Proactive Elderly Advanced Care) was set up allowing treatment to be managed by the care home and local GP. Since July my Mother has enjoyed a stable environment and continuity of care.
My Mother and Sister circa 1965
My Mother moved into a care home on April 7th this year. Her health was already very poor due to her age (91). She was bed bound, partially sighted, suffering from increasing hearing loss and unable to feed herself. Rapid onset dementia meant that her behaviour had become erratic and she was a danger to herself. Hence her caring needs could no longer be safely managed within a home environment. Fortunately the care home proved a good choice. For the past four months they have provided outstanding care and have treated my Mother with dignity, respect and genuine kindness. Sadly, during that time my Mother had several bouts of illness that saw her hospitalised four times. Eventually a PEACE plan (Proactive Elderly Advanced Care) was set up allowing treatment to be managed by the care home and local GP. Since July my Mother has enjoyed a stable environment and continuity of care.
This Thursday I was notified by staff at the care home that my Mother’s health was declining rapidly and that she was not expected to survive the week. I went to visit her and found that she had lost even more weight and was very gaunt. She was not aware of my presence and was focusing all her efforts on breathing. It is a sobering experience to see a parent who was once so indefatigable and energetic, reduced to such a frail and pitiable state. But such is the nature of life and old age is often a process of numerous minor ailments slowly wearing one down. So I sat and held her hand and talked about “the good old days”. I recounted anecdotes from my youth such as how I set fire to the kitchen curtains as a child. I reminisced about the garden which was her pride and joy for many years. And I recalled the family cat, Sam, who she doted upon. I told her I loved her, that she was a great Mum and I appreciated all that she had done for my Sister and I. Our childhood was fun and our family home was filled with laughter. I like to think she heard and understood all this.
Last night, I received a phone call from the care home that my Mother had died, peacefully in her sleep. It was far from a bolt out of the blue. She was approaching 92 and has been struggling with very serious health issues for the last eight months. Death has been a factor in her life for the last decade as she outlived friends and relatives. Last year my Mother asked me to get in touch with the family solicitors so she could “get her affairs in order”. Hence there has been an irresistible inevitability to this week’s events. Yet no matter how much you try to prepare and reconcile yourself to the situation, when it arrives it hits you hard. My Mother, a constant in the last 54 years of my life, is no more. Part of me thinks this is unfair, but then I stop and think about the quality of her life in recent months and what she’s had to endure. To deny her “rest” would be wrong.
For the present, I must set aside my feelings and concentrate on the task in hand. I administered my late Father’s estate in late 2020 and early 2021 so I have a good idea of what administrative tasks lie ahead. I am somewhat relieved that my Mother decided to get a lot of her personal affairs in order last year, hopefully ensuring a smooth passage through the potentially choppy waters of probate. Then there’s the funeral to arrange and the rather sad fact that few people will attend because so many of my Mother’s family and friends have already died. This is the reality of an ageing society. Thinking ahead, I also suspect that this will be the final entry in this series of posts. Looking back over the last 16 instalments, I hope that my experiences are of use to those who are just embarking upon a similar journey. Remember, 3 in 5 people in the UK will become carers at some point during their lives. You’re therefore never alone.
Thoughts on Blogging Part 17
I was sitting in my office over the weekend, half-heartedly typing up a blog post about table manners and dining etiquette, when I paused and lapsed into a state of self examination and introspection.
“Isn’t Contains Moderate Peril supposed to be about gaming, movies and popular culture”? “Yes”, I replied to myself via my inner monologue.
“So what the hell am I doing writing about table manners, then?” my inner contrarian retorted.
“Well it is part of our culture, although I wouldn’t argue that it is a defining aspect of the zeitgeist at present” my conciliatory alter ego responded.
“Frankly, I’m getting bored with all of this per se” a third voice stated. It was at this point, I stopped arguing with various facets of my id and went to the pub.
I am currently having a R.J. MacReady moment
I was sitting in my office over the weekend, half-heartedly typing up a blog post about table manners and dining etiquette, when I paused and lapsed into a state of self examination and introspection.
“Isn’t Contains Moderate Peril supposed to be about gaming, movies and popular culture”? “Yes”, I replied to myself via my inner monologue.
“So what the hell am I doing writing about table manners, then?” my inner contrarian retorted.
“Well it is part of our culture, although I wouldn’t argue that it is a defining aspect of the zeitgeist at present” my conciliatory alter ego responded.
“Frankly, I’m getting bored with all of this per se” a third voice stated. It was at this point, I stopped arguing with various facets of my id and went to the pub.
While consuming a chilled libation I reflected upon these matters and contemplated the wider issue underpinning them. Does collating my thoughts for a blog post help me understand a subject better. Does writing allow me to make sense of the world and the human condition? Does maintaining a blog make me happy and provide a sense of purpose? The fact that I am writing this blog post surely indicates that the answer to these three questions is not “no”. However, it wasn’t a resounding “yes” either. If there is a single word that summarises my current emotional, philosophical and political disposition at present it is “ambivalence”. I have mixed feelings about a lot of things. Video games, the industry that creates them, film and TV, popular culture, contemporary politics, the state of the world, the rest of my life.
The pleasures of working working in retail
I have recently realised that I am at a crossroads in my life. After speaking to a financial advisor, I have decided that I won’t be returning to the job market. I am going to retire. Working part time may well improve my finances but I don’t believe it would improve the quality of my life. Work means directly or indirectly accepting a degree of bullshit into your life. This may be a problematic boss or problematic colleagues. Then there’s issues such as leave versus staffing schedules, potential stress (especially if dealing with the public) and lines of demarcation. I’m used to working within the parameters of a clearly defined contract. Yet working culture now seems to permeate one’s life outside of office hours. That is not for me. Plus, I’d be a square peg in a round hole in the modern work environment. A job is a quid pro quo; a means to make money. I have no interest in an employer's vision and how I can contribute to that.
Thus, as I am part of the “great resignation” and am not going back to work. I am focused upon what I intend to do with the years that I hopefully have left. Fortunately, I am never at a loose end and still have lots of interests. Mrs P and I also have numerous activities that we wish to do together. We also realise that we’re very fortunate to be in such a position. However, we have to temper our plans according to our finances, age and health. Hence, if something isn’t positively contributing to the quality of our lives, then it may well need to go. Which brings me back to my penchant for writing. It was once a career goal, then a form of therapy, now it is a hobby (possibly even an indulgence). And hobbies have an arc of their own. For the present, Contains Moderate Peril is going through a quiet patch because so am I. When I next become enthusiastic about something, the blog may well pick up.
