Finding a place for Dad

There are very few places, we discovered, that are set up for Alzheimers sufferers like Dad : those who don’t want to be sitting around all the time; those who have spent their lives outdoors and don’t want to be locked inside, only to be let out when the care facility says you can; those who like space so they can get away from others; those who want to be active with gardening and painting fences and mowing lawns, even if that only lasts half an hour and then they want to sit and enjoy the view….Dad has Alzheimers - he’s not a cripple and he’s not a vegetable. 

We visited numerous care facilities that suited the level of care we had decided Dad required. 

On a tour of one facility the manager said “We let the patients roam freely”.  But all the doors to the internal garden were locked and it was only early afternoon…. obviously their interpretation of roaming freely differs from ours.   And in the same breath she said, ‘We lock the bedrooms during the day’…..struck that place off the list.

Most places had very small outdoor areas.  My sister said she'd go loopy with such a small place to walk round and round.  We would joke that obviously gardens for Alzheimers patients didn't need to be large because, once a patient had made his (or her) way round to the beginning, it would all look new again.  Dad's memory wasn't that bad yet. 

We found most places had organized activities like card games, hat making and scrabble. Dad never did sit still for card games.  We knew the chances of him doing that now, were slim.  And he’s a stubborn mule.  If they tried to make him participate, he’d eventually get shitty, we knew that.  

He needed activities that were more robust.  The one place that said they provided gardening specifically for the men, and an experienced worker to boot, had a waiting list.  This may sound shocking, but Alzheimer’s patients don’t tend to move on (die) that quickly.  Though their mental health may be on the blink, physically they can be in fairly good nick.

A couple of places said they would be providing gardening and such like for their clients once they found the right staff. We placed Dad in one of those – in the weeks he was there, they never managed to find said gardener.

There are very view places with a nice view, or one unobstructed by tall metal fences designed to keep you in...and then they tell you how they want your loved one to feel like they're at home.  It’s actually amazing, or is that shocking, how un-homely most Alzheimer's units are.  Most struck me as being very clinical. 

There was only one facility that offered alternative therapies, and those were limited.  How sad…

We put Dad's name down at a few places.  Three measured up to our criteria.  One, as I previously mentioned, was full.  The other was miles away from any of the family.  The other was not specifically for Alzheimer’s patients – they took a range of clients.  And, they weren’t a ‘recommended’ facility.  Meaning the local health honcho’s didn’t have them on their books as a ‘secure unit’, which is what they deemed Dad required.

We chose the last one primarily because it had space - loads of space.  At that point in time we thought Dad needed space.  The room we chose had a great view over an estuary.  And it didn’t have lock down – these people knew what free roaming meant. 

It was also only going to be a temporary measure, a place to stay until the other unit, the one we really wanted, came available. 

If only it had….

Frequent Questions.

As his condition really started to set in, the most noticeable thing, for us kids anyway, was the frequent questions.  Dad was repeating questions.  The same questions.  Constantly.

Do you know where your brother is today?

He's at home Dad.

Oh, is he. That's good.

So you know where he is, do you?

Yes Dad. He's at home, doing stuff.

Oh.  That's good he's doing things.

Where is he while he's doing these things?

He's at his place.

Oh. That's good.

Tell me, just one last time, I probably asked before. Your brother is at home?

Yes Dad.

Ok, just one more time and then I'll be quiet.  Where is your brother today?

Ummmm - You want a cup of tea Dad??

My brother and law came to visit one day and he said, ‘what would happen if you didn’t answer him when he asked for the 3^rd time?’  I had to say, I’d never thought of that.  I presume he’d just keep asking, or he’d ask another question.

I do know, though not as well as my mother knows, that living with constant, repetitious questions is very, very draining.  We short term visitors, which is how I’d label Glenn and myself, because we only turned up at home for a little while every couple of days, offered Mum a bit of a reprieve. 

We also became very good at rephrasing the same reply.  Why?  Well, it got darned boring saying the same response over and over again.  And I thought that maybe, rephrased, the answer may resonate somewhere in his mind and stick. 

But, as I’ve said before, with no resident expert offering salient advice, I have no idea if anything we were doing was right.

The only thing we knew for sure was he’s our Dad and regardless of any ups and downs we may have had, we love him heaps and we don’t think he deserves this bloody disease.

I haven't seen your brother today, have you?

Dad, you already asked me that question.

Did I?  What was your answer to my question then.



The brother in question.