A PLACE FOR BOB -by Linda Osmundson
“Bob, if I don’t get more sleep, I’m going to get sick and then who will care for you?” He never wanted help when going to the bathroom. Each night when I heard him get up, I lay there waiting for the thud of a fall. We’d called 911 so many times, we knew some EMTs by name. This time, Bob didn’t fall, but by the time he returned to bed, I couldn’t go to sleep. I stared at the ceiling, counted backwards from 100 and tried other sleep-inducing tricks.
“Oh,” said Bob, “I’ll go to that place. And, I’ll take that and that and that.” He pointed to furniture, wall décor and asked, “Can we go on Saturday?”
Diagnosed in 2013 with dementia, Bob wanted to move into assisted living. He thought he could call a cab and go to the liquor store whenever he wanted. I wouldn’t take him. He drank too much.
The place to which he referred was MorningStar. My youngest son came one day and said, “Mom, you’ve aged 10 years in one. We need to get more help for both Dad and you.” I’d already done some research and visited a few facilities with and without an appointment. I looked for a memory care facility with lots of light, a caring staff, a good staff/resident ratio and was financially feasible.
On my visits, I found things I liked and didn’t like about each facility. I’d witnessed both good and questionable behaviors by staffs. One facility was dark and dreary. Another seemed short on staff at lunch. One lacked an outdoor courtyard. I watched a staff member ask a resident to “remember.” I cringed. She’d ask the person to do something of which they were incapable. A definite no no!
MorningStar fit my criteria and was only three miles from home. I made a deposit. Later, I asked for Bob to be evaluated. A nurse and memory care manager visited us in our home. They approved him for care once a room became available and we were ready to move him.
Now was the time. He wanted to go. I made an appointment.
“I know you don’t have space right now,” I told the facility manager, “but I’d like for Bob to be on the waiting list.”
“Actually,” he said, “a room just became available, is ready for move-in and it’s the best room in memory care.” Course, it was also the most expensive! I asked my most important question. “Do you keep a resident until death?”
He answered yes. However, if more than two staff were required for a transfer, we might have to hire extra help or rent a lift machine. Otherwise, except in rare occasions, the resident could remain until death.
We set a move-in date. I asked our three sons to help. They came from Utah, Crested Butte and Thornton. I invited neighbors and Bob’s twice-weekly caregiver for a farewell party. His golfing buddy across the cul-de-sac failed to come. Later, I asked why. He responded, “I couldn’t stand to see him that way.”
The moving truck arrived after lunch. They loaded and headed to MorningStar. When the manager entered a code for the memory care unit, Bob seemed surprised. He didn’t expect to be in the locked part of the facility, even though he’d seen the room at our last visit.
We arranged the furniture, settled him in and decided to have dinner in the restaurant on the assisted living area. Bob was quiet. We all tried to reassure him. When we left, we promised to visit the next day.
Late morning found us in Bob’s room before our sons headed home. My phone rang. “Hi, Hannah. You want to talk to Papa?”
“No, Nana. I want to wish you a happy birthday.” I’d forgotten.
I visited every day at lunch as was suggested by staff. I accompanied Bob to special events like sing-alongs and Happy Hour. I brought him the newspaper which he held even though he couldn’t read any more. Eventually, Bob required a wheelchair. Every time I visited, he opened his arms for a hug. He didn’t talk much, but always answered my “I love you,” with “Love you.”
As I look back, I realize I couldn’t have provided the care he needed. Still, my guilt insisted I’d moved him too soon. Our doctor neighbor and his wife claimed, “No, we were watching you. You were exhausted.” Statistics indicate the caregiver often passes before the patient. My sons not only looked out for their father’s care, but also for my health by suggesting time was right for a move to a professional care facility.
Bob lived at MorningStar for 22 months. The staff loved him because he always smiled. We celebrated his 80th birthday with a party for the whole family and all the memory care residents. Two days later, he went to sleep for a week and passed without waking up.
The staff not only cared for Bob, but for me. They brought me meals and provided snacks for visitors as I sat through Bob’s final days; I couldn’t have asked for more. Thank goodness I’d done my research and found the right place for Bob.
Linda Osmundson is a published author. She lives in a wonderful neighborhood in Fort Collins. Learn more about her at www.LindaOsmundson.com.
