Beach Haven

Mum called.  They had found a new place.  She was happy, the rest of the whanau were happy.  It was a place we had initially crossed off our list for lack of space but now that Dad was a dribbling, shuffling shadow of his former self he didn't need the space.  He needed good care, in a permanent home.  The new unit was in Beach Haven.

Beach Haven Hospital suited the whanau just fine for a number of reasons.  Both my sisters live nearby and are able to visit often and Mum can stay with them when she comes down to visit.    The unit doesn't mind the odd bit of rongoa either.  Being part of a mixed ethnicity community, largely Maori and PI, they are used to whanau wanting input so, provided we keep them informed, they are happy for us to massage, use herbals or whatever we want.  The home doesn't have lock down and they encourage family to visit.  And though there isn't a paddock for space outdoors, there is a small lawn and garden with outdoor decks.

Mum's concern once he was in the unit was reducing Dad's zombie meds.  The doctors said they would do what they could over time and have stuck to their word though Mum did worry it was taking longer than she wanted.  Dad has been there for the last year.  In that time he's been moved out of the high care dementia unit to the other side with 'less real crazies' as my son likes to say.

We are so glad the placement roller coaster is over.  It was a long, long year.  And it was only a year!  I think it took a while for us all to settle into this unit.  For some time we were holding our breaths, expecting to be thrown into disarray again at any moment.  Thankfully Beach Haven has been just that a haven - for all of us.