Assisted Living was the Answer

How many times have I said these words, “There is no instruction booklet for this”? I don’t have an exact count at this point but I’ve said it a lot about a lot of things. This journey called the progression of Alzheimer’s disease has made a crisis manager out of me. Really. I’ve thought about this in terms of writing a professional profile or a resume. Crisis Manager is the most apt title for the full time job that I’ve held for the last 6 years. The thing is…there is no complete job description, no definitive list of qualifications and no specific body of knowledge that one should be proficient in using. There is, indeed, no instruction book.

Future living arrangements were based on obvious needs.

After my parents left home together in an ambulance, the course of diagnoses and events that unfolded for them directed me toward a single, obvious solution to their living arrangements. They clearly could not go home together. That single fact would prove to be the most challenging for my father, and the most stressful for my relationship with him. As for my mother, she was stressed being separated from my father and that would be the case anywhere unless they shared living space. At the time, I did the next best thing. I found a nice residential facility that had a secure memory unit for my mother. In the same tower, it had either independent or assisted living units for my father.

At this initial stage of living away from home, so to speak, they were still healthy enough physically to function in assisted living. This was all part of the knowledge base that I did not have but had to acquire. I had a very high level knowledge of institutional facilities that, at best, could be described simply as a vocabulary. The distinctions were still a mystery. My high level understanding was about the level of nursing care and assisted living included none, except for dispensing medications. Both parents needed help with that but mom’s care also included assistance with dressing and self-care.

First move to assisted living

So our first step into facility living went as I hoped at the time. Well, almost. Dad had been evaluated as suitable for independent living prior to the move from rehab. (Prior to admission to a facility, a nurse will go out to do a detailed evaluation of their situation and needs.) The day my parents arrived together via care van the admissions staff called me to say that they had concerns about dad living on his own.

It had been 2 weeks since I had seen him and I had been surprised about their initial assessment in favor of independence. So their updated assessment didn’t surprise me. Dad could talk a great line but if left to his own devices, his medications would be all wrong. He wouldn’t seek any help with anything. My father would have been back in the ER in no time without “assistance”. It worked out fine though as they moved dad into an assisted unit. He was able to spend his time and take his meals upstairs with mom. They were both safe and happy.

I consider this first move and decision to be my first big triumph in becoming the head of the household and the only family member not lying to myself and everyone else. But here’s the thing. These facilities all have slick marketing departments and brochures that make the idea of your loved ones living there somehow look like a premium cruise around the Caribbean. It’s all designed to handle your basic needs at a time when you have no clue what just hit you as a caregiver and advocate. There is no amount of preparation for this. If you have the cash and the patience to complete the 60 page admissions packet for each parent, you’re in. The key thing for me at that moment in time was that my parents were safe, fed well, clean and together. Crisis averted.