Continued from Part 1

When you fly on an airplane they always tell you to “put your mask on first before you help others.” This is a great quote to live by, but it held little reality for me as I was young and in good health, and as long as mom was happy and doing okay, so was I.

This was until her routine cardiology appointment in February of 2009. At the end of the appointment, I told mom that it was time to go and she didn’t understand that she had to get off of the table so we could go. I just thought that it was too high for her so I tried to help her down. She misunderstood and went flying off of the table. Mom and I fell and I broke two ribs (thankfully she was unhurt). It was at this time that I knew I needed a larger and better team to help care for her because it was time to “put my mask on first” so she

I quickly threw together a temporary plan along with a girlfriend and the staff at the Weissman Adult Day Center. We had mom go to the day center for the week instead of just on the few days a week that I was working.  We also had mom picked up and brought back home on the bus instead of me taking her there. Change is sometimes begrudgingly accepted even by the best of us. Routine had become very important to mom and me. It’s a small, individualized world that my Alzheimer’s mother is able to deal with. When her routine changed, it is like her world is changed and as her caregiver, so did mine.

When this new schedule finally became our “normal” routine, the newest changes in mom became more apparent. Her Alzheimer’s progressed to the point where she needed long-term care and, once again, I had to quickly figure out the next step. 

Always hoping that the next step would be years away, I did not have a plan. Aside from needing the respite provided by the day center for me, I realized mom needed more help than one person can provide. We were both exhausted at the end of each day and yet, it was imperative to her well-being that I spent my nights listening to see if she was wandering around. As her steadiness on her feet decreased, and her ability to think clearly diminished, it became necessary for my husband or me to get up with mom and lead her back to bed on a regular basis. 

I finally took the time to do my research and I decided that I wanted mom to stay at Menorah Manor. This is where I wanted mom to be (if she had to “be” anywhere). I wanted to find the solution that would provide the best care for mom – just like the care I had been providing.  I wanted to find a place that mom would be welcomed into almost like family.  A place she would be treated with dignity and respect.  I wanted a place where I would also fit in as part of her care team.  I am the “concerned” daughter and wanted to remain an integral part of her team.  I found this environment that mom and I could be comfortable at Menorah Manor. So, I went through the admission process and became a resident in the Alzheimer’s Care Village in June of 2010. 

Look Out for Part 3 of Carrie's Story in Next Week's Blog