Today, I walked dad wherever he needed to go. When he was ready to eat lunch, he walked to the kitchen, when he needed to get changed, he walked to the bathroom. From there, he walked to his bedroom where he is working on his book.

The idea is to get him out of his wheelchair as much as possible. He seemed to lose some mobility over the last week, so we’re stepping up the exercise routine. He said he can already feel the difference.

But dad is moving real slow, his legs just don’t want to go. Yet, he remains amazingly determined. I really don’t think I would have such a great outlook on life if I were in his shoes.

“I think it’s worse for you than it is for me.” he said, as I waited for him to walk forward a few steps.

I don’t think so, dad,” I replied. How could he ever think that, I wondered?

Honestly, he could barely get his motor apparatus in gear, and he was thinking of me.

By his own admission, the four years he spent in the nursing home has given him an empathy for others he never had before. It’s the only way we have been able to care for him. Grandpa is a changed man.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes him to get where he’s going – from here to eternity – just as long as Grandpa keeps trying. That’s all that counts.

“You know, I’m a perfectionist,” Grandpa commented.

“I know,” I replied.

“You know, you’re one too.” he added.

“I know,” I agreed, laughing at his insight.

But truthfully, as I pondered his comment, the thought bothered me. I’m sure his observation stems from the fact that I expect the kids to do housework a certain way when we’re at Grandpa’s, and I have to correct them when they don’t do it right. After all, order in the midst of chaos is comforting. Not that it’s chaotic here like when we first brought Grandpa home (we were navigating through uncharted territory and we often didn’t have a clue what we were doing), but depending on what Grandpa is going through – attitude or health-wise, and the rest of us for that matter – a clean house can bring  a semblance of normalcy to overstressed lives. But perfectionist standards can also cause hard feelings.

I remember the year my mother died. Grandpa took care of her ’round the clock in this very house. Our first child, Claire, was 9-months-old and we would come over to visit mom as she lie sick in bed. One day, I fed Claire a cracker in the kitchen and dad got really mad when she dropped crumbs on his clean floor. That’s how stressed out he was from caring for mom for months-on-end. He hurt my feelings, excruciatingly.

I had my moment in this very same kitchen the other day. I had asked the girls to set the table and when we gathered for dinner, the water glasses were not filled with ice or water, and they were severely mismatched. It was a half-hearted job by a child who was surely thinking of other things. I wasn’t happy. I venture to say my attitude was just as upsetting to my children as my father’s had been with me. How ironic that I would have the opportunity, 24 years later, to be reminded of what it is like to make perfection the object of my affection, instead of the people I love.

I don’t think being a perfectionist is something to be proud of. I had thought the days of needing to create the illusion of “having it all altogether” were long gone. Or maybe it’s because, I’m visual. I just want things to be orderly and functional.

I’m sure that those who really know me, know I am far from perfect. Thank God, He has knocked me down a few perfectionist notches over the years and even changed my understanding of the word. The Greek meaning for the word perfect is: complete, grown-up, a mature man. That brings a godly perspective to the word, doesn’t it?

James 1 says, “Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

I can’t help but think that God is using this situation with Grandpa to perfect Himself in me. Ha! That’s going to take a while.

3450 brethren 80, count it 2233 all 3956 joy 5479 when 3752 ye fall 4045 into divers 4164 temptations 3986;
	Jam 1:3		Knowing 1097 [this], that 3754 the trying 1383 of your 5216 faith 4102 worketh 2716 patience 5281.
	Jam 1:4		But 1161 let 2192 0 patience 5281 have 2192 [her] perfect 5046 work 2041, that 2443 ye may be 5600 perfect 5046 and 2532 entire 3648, wanting 3007 nothing 1722 3367.

We had a couple of wonderful weeks with Grandpa. He seemed as content as he could be. But yesterday, due to his lack of mobility, I saw a bit of impatience creep back into his spirit. He has a dream that he’s going to walk around the house all by himself.

I love him for wanting to, but it’s not going to happen. We have to be in the same room with him when he is at his walker with our hands on his safety belt. Rarely do we take our hands off of that belt. That may seem a little extreme, but there is a reason we are so vigilant.

Three years ago, my landlady fell and broke her hip. One Sunday morning, she was coming out of her bathroom with her walker when she tripped and fell in the hallway and broke her hip. She was never able to come back to the farm after that. I share this story with my dad every time he begins to try to to walk around the house by himself. He usually doesn’t get very far, and just a friendly reminder of our landlady’s woes and it is enough to bring him back to reality.

My dad has a fighting spirit and and at the age of 89 (almost 90), he’s one of the most self-motivated people I know, which is why he got a little “snippy” with me, yesterday when I tried to help him re-position himself in his wheelchair for the third time that day. If he doesn’t sit down just right, he leans way over to the side because of the curve of his spine.

We walked from his bedroom to the kitchen, my left hand holding his safety belt and my right hand pulling the wheelchair behind me, a safety measure he wanted in place, because somehow he lost confidence in me. I’m strong enough to catch him from going down, but he doesn’t want me to strain myself if he does. The problem is, he gets shaky just thinking about it and starts to wobble. Then, I have to tell him everything is okay, just keep coming forward or we’re going to have to start all over again.

When we got to the kitchen, I pushed the wheelchair behind him and he sat down to eat lunch, only he didn’t get positioned correctly. When I tried to help pull him up so we could scoot him over, he protested. “Now, let me do it! I don’t want you to hurt yourself!”

“I already have,” I murmured to myself as I popped his lunch into the microwave. I’ve had to take care of Grandpa all week long because Eric has been working over at the farm, bringing in the hay and helping Robert paint the house. I’ve felt a few more aches and pains helping him up and down this week and I was grumbling to myself about it.

“I’m sorry, I yelled.” he said. I think his so-called yell was pretty low on the decibel scale, a four maybe. It didn’t bother me.

“That’s okay dad.” I said.

Doesn’t it figure, that the one area I struggle with the most is the one that Grandpa is most anxious about? Becoming ambulatory is suddenly at the forefront of his thinking, but he picked the wrong day to try to achieve new goals. I was taking care of him all by myself and my limitations for lifting him only seemed to make him want to walk by himself all the more. Like it or not, when Eric isn’t here, Grandpa is stuck depending on his 53-year-old daughter who can’t lift his 160 pounds – comfortably, but does the best she can.

Ah, the vicissitudes of life for Grandpa and me.

The day Grandpa stops trying to meet his goals, he’ll either be bed-ridden or dead, and if I keep trying to meet them in my own strength, I will be too. I pray that I learn to depend more on God, daily, and look to Him for the strength I need to physically care of Grandpa.

“But they that wait on the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31

Today, my family is getting a break at Great America Amusement Park. Great America is practically in our own back yard and once a year, my husband and children spend the day there, riding death-defying roller coasters and yelling at the top of their lungs. Robert and  the kids really look forward to making memories, but not with me. I have neurological issues that prevent me from joining them (thank God), so every year I am spared the self-inflicted punishment of having my body thrown about as if it were a sack of potatoes.

All this to say, since I wasn’t going with them, I became the designated Grandpa sitter. We had be at his house around 7:00, and Grandpa doesn’t usually get up until 8:00, so Eric had to wake him up early. By the time we arrived, Eric had changed and dressed him, and when I walked in his bedroom, Grandpa was already going back to bed. He had woke up around 6:00 and was still sleepy. Grandpa usually takes a power nap after breakfast, but being an hour off, he was not ready to eat breakfast yet.

Months ago, our neurologist said that if we needed to, we could give Grandpa some Carbidopa before he gets out of bed in the morning to give him a little jump start and warm up his muscles. We usually don’t have to do that, however. Eric is strong enough to lift Grandpa around and help get him going if he’s not moving well. But today I thought it might be best to give him one tablet to help him want to wake up and not sleep the morning away since he was already a little off schedule.

Obviously, I’m not as strong as a 19-year-old and my spinal cord issues make lifting and pulling an issue. I have to help my dad past the one spot where gravity is pulling him backwards, and I need him to move forwards. It’s not fun, but I have no alternative when I am here by myself other than to try and pull his 160 pounds up to a standing position. Along with his pill, I gave Grandpa a piece of cheese and bread so his stomach wouldn’t be upset, and he slept until 9:00 a.m.. If he misses any of his medications, he gets exhausted and way off schedule for his next meal, so we try to keep everything running smoothly and not forget to give him his pills on time.

So far today, I have cooked Grandpa breakfast and lunch (and will cook dinner,too), changed his diaper, walked him to the kitchen (pulling his wheel chair behind me for his comfort – he’s been worried today about not having his chair nearby for some reason), sat with him through his nurse’s visit, and worked on getting some of his old credit debt straightened out with a credit counselor. As well as writing this blog, I managed to get a nap in on the couch. One thing I learned from being a mommy, when the baby sleeps, you  sleep. That’s true when I’m taking care of Grandpa, too.

Grandpa quote of the day:

“I have to get back to work. Enough playing around.” Grandpa on practicing Chopin at the piano and needing to go back to his bedroom to write on his book about the nursing home.

I am needy.
I groan with Godly sorrow
My eyes pool with tears.
Like David, I am painfully aware that I have sinned against Thee, and Thee only.

Thy Word,  O Lord, is pure.
Tried as silver, refined in the fiery furnace of the earth, seven times.
Tried in the furnace of my heart, seven times seventy.
Will I ever learn? My tears overflow.

Thy word comes on a hot wind, a refiner’s fire.
Do all things without complaining or arguing,
Without grumbling or questioning,
Without disputing or murmuring
Be ever on your guard against a grudging and contentious spirit.

In my innermost being, I hear and bow low
Forgive me, Lord.
Purify me within, cleanse me without
Send forth Thy Word, O God, and refine me.

“Work out your salvation with fear and trembling;for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure. Do all things without grumbling or disputing; so that you will prove yourselves to be blameless and innocent, children of God above reproach in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation.” Philippians 2: 12-15

Sometimes simple solutions to everyday challenges elude us because we’re so busy “doing” that we can’t “pause to reflect” (or in my case remember) what needs to be changed in order to make life easier.

Take Grandpa’s new Velcro shoes, for instance. They’re highly preferable over the tie-on shoes he was released from the nursing home with (those shoes never belonged to him anyway), but it took me a while to remember to purchase a new pair when I was out running errands.

During one of his therapy sessions, Grandpa became exasperated when his foot kept slipping out from underneath him. He was practicing transferring from a sitting position in his wheelchair to a standing position at his walker. He needed T-R-A-C-T-I-O-N, and he needed it now! So off to the store I went to purchase a pair of Velcro shoes.

When I got home, I tossed the old shoes out the back door at the garbage can, only I missed. I had intended to throw them away before I left, but it was late and I forgot. It rained that night and the nursing home resident’s name that was written on the side (let’s just call him John Doe), vanished by morning.

I assumed the name was written in permanent marker, but it wasn’t, illustrating the sad reality that nothing is permanently yours at the nursing home (I know, because Grandpa told me so).

For some reason, probably the injustice we felt as a family that Grandpa was sent home in someone else’s shoes, we never quite read whose name was inscribed on them. For eight months, we used those shoes day-in-and-day-out, and it never occurred to me to commit the poor owner’s name to memory (Hey, if the shoe fits, wear it, right?).

After he tried his new shoes on, Grandpa asked me if I had saved the old shoes.

“No, I threw them away.” I replied disdainfully.

“You never know when you’ll need them,” he quipped (remember, Grandpa was nine years old when the Great Depression hit).

Normally, I would have been a little more frugal, but, honestly, I didn’t plan on ever needing “John Doe’s” shoes again. They were an old pair of Dockers and it was frustrating to have to tie and untie them several times a day. And believe it or not, Grandpa pretty much wore the soles down. Don’t ask me how, but he did.

Come to think of it, maybe there wasn’t much of a sole left on the Dockers to begin with. Maybe John Doe was a senior marathon runner or nursing home dance instructor. I regret, I’ll never know.

Isn’t this just another example of how devalued our seniors citizens are? Shouldn’t their personal belongings be returned to their families after they die? Maybe John Doe was blessed to have his family permanently bring him home, and somehow his Dockers were accidentally left behind. I doubt it. But it does make me wonder, who’s wearing Grandpa’s shoes at the nursing home right now?

Suffice it to say, Velcro shoes – friends of both young and old – have made life easier for everyone at our house, especially Grandpa.

The level of care my father receives is called “skilled nursing” by the professionals. I don’t think these two words necessarily have to go together. Anyone can become skilled at taking care of their elderly loved one, and not every need they have will be medical. So let me encourage you that you don’t have to be a nurse to take care of your elderly parent.

What the nursing home means when they use the term skilled nursing is that they provide both of these services and everything in-between. Personal hygiene assistance, help with dressing, medical monitoring, dispensing of medicine,  plus therapy and exercise classes are all provided under one roof at the nursing home facility.

The important thing for you to know is that these services are available to you for a limited time when you first bring your elderly parent home. Trained occupational and physical therapists, as well as medical nurses who monitor vital signs are all available to train you in what you need to know to achieve and maintain optimum health for your parent.

When we brought dad home, they sent staff to our house to make sure that we had the equipment we needed to take care of him. A hospital bed, wheelchair and walker were immediately ordered for us. This equipment was all covered by medicare. My brother had the bathroom tub ripped out and a handicap assessable shower installed. Medicare does not cover bathroom renovations for handicap purposes. This is a cost you will incur yourself, but can be written-off at tax time.

With the help of these professionals, you will figure out what you need for your particular situation. My brother spent some time in the physical therapy room at the nursing home, observing and video taping my father on the exercise equipment. He bought some of the same equipment for a reasonable price off of Craig’s List, and had it delivered to Grandpa’s home. It is very important to help your parent get the physical therapy he needs to stay strong. My father is a highly motivated individual and he loves to work out almost every day.

As far as care goes, it doesn’t take a nursing degree to fill a pill box or give your parent a shower. These are all skills that can be acquired through practice. The term for this kind of care is often called custodial or personal care. The word custodial reminds me of school lockers and shiny hallways. I like the term personal care better. I like to think that I am giving my father the personal, one-on-one care, he deserves and cannot receive from anyone else.

That said, there are health issues unique to the elderly that can progress quickly if you aren’t aware of what’s happening. It’s really important to have a highly recommended geriatric doctor nearby who can answer your questions or refer you to any specialists you may need along the way. If you are taking a loved one out of the nursing home it is really important to get them evaluated to make sure they are not being overly medicated as was the case with my father.

If there is any kind of ongoing health issue, the doctor will assign an independent nursing service to come to your home weekly and help monitor the episode until the threat of danger is over. We have learned so much from the physical therapists and the nurses who have taken care of my father in our home. Their expertise has been invaluable and I think this is one part of the in-home health system that really works.

I hope the future health care bill does not limit this service to the elderly. It has been absolutely vital for bringing us peace of mind as we went from the transition of not knowing exactly what to expect when we first brought Grandpa home, to being able to handle his Parkinson’s issues. Yes, I suppose we could bring him to the doctor more often, but the weekly visits have been invaluable for helping us deal with the numerous health issues that have arisen since Grandpa has been home.

You can do it!

I remember years ago when my father was in assisted living. He had contracted a germ common to seniors called c. diff* that causes diarrhea. He was put into isolation and my siblings and I had to take care of him until it cleared up. I helped change his diapers and ran back and forth to the store to get him anything he needed. The staff said our family (my younger brother, sister, and I) were one the most involved they had ever encountered. As I was changing his diaper one day, one of the CNA’s asked me if I had a nursing degree. “No, I said, “I’m just a mommy. I’ve changed lots of diapers.”

You don’t have to be certified to care for a loved one. Whether you help care for  them in assisted care, the nursing home, in your home or their home, the tender loving care that only you can give will make all the difference in the world.

* Clostridium difficile, often called C. difficile or “C. diff,” is a bacterium that can cause symptoms ranging from diarrhea to life-threatening inflammation of the colon. Illness from C. difficile most commonly affects older adults in hospitals or in long term care facilities and typically occurs after use of antibiotic medications. Mayo Clinic staff

Because Grandpa has Parkinson’s, and limited mobility, he cannot transfer from a wheelchair, walker or bed without help. When he needs to use the washroom, take a shower, take a nap, get up from a nap or get anything beyond his reach, we have to help him. For all intensive purposes, we are Grandpa’s legs (and sometimes his hands).

When he struggles to stand up, it takes him a few seconds to find his center of gravity. If he’s having a “bad day” (bad day meaning lack of strength), helping him up can be like trying to lift a 50-pound bag of sugar off the table with your pinkie. Because Parkinson’s medicines wear off after a few hours, they have to be taken three times a day. Still, by 5:00 p.m., it seems like Grandpa has accumulated enough dopamine to fire-off a small rocket and he fairly bounces up to his walker from a sitting position. Afternoons are a good time for him to work out on his exercise equipment or take a few laps around the house with his walker.

Since being liberated from the nursing home, the ratio of personal care has risen in Grandpa’s favor from 6 to 1 (the six in our family to Grandpa’s one). How true the saying “many hands make light the work!” In nursing homes, the industry norm 15 to 1 (15 residents to one CNA!). Wow, I can’t fathom being in charge of 15 seniors at one time. Is it really possible to call that care?

Talk about adapting. It isn’t the nursing home staff who does the adapting. Once you walk (or are pushed) through those doors, you must adapt to the nursing home’s policies and the way their staff does things – like it or not.

Yes, since Grandpa came home, he is definitely upwardly mobile.

Most parents joyfully anticipate the addition of a newborn to their family. For the sandwich generation, it’s different. Does anyone really anticipate bringing a parent or grandparent into their home to care for them long term? Isn’t that kind of thinking a little naive? Aren’t old folks better off being tucked away somewhere where they won’t be in the way? And shouldn’t the medical professionals take care of them? After all, isn’t old age a disease?

Taking care of an elderly parent can be challenging, complicated, and downright scary at times.Unlike babies who eventually adapt your family’s routine, the elderly  slow you down and cause you to adapt to theirs. Some describe it as having their lives turned upside down or feeling like life has come to a screeching halt. That’s how I felt when we first brought Grandpa home.

Taking care of Grandpa reminds me of when my children were little, only different. Let’s face it, babies are cute and cuddly and don’t weigh very much. 160 pound Grandpas can be cute, too, but unlike babies, they’re generally viewed as more of a burden than a blessing.

When I was sharing with a friend how we took Grandpa out of the nursing home and how crazy our lives had become as a result, she wisely said, “Selfish people calculate, loving people act.”Her insight brought me peace.

There is a huge difference between calculating the cost and counting the cost. A calculating heart says, What’s in it for me? A heart that counts the cost says, Jesus paid the ultimate price for my freedom. Can I do less for others?

Taking care of Grandpa has drastically changed my life and the lives of my husband and children. I’m glad we didn’t stop to calculate the cost. Seeing Dad alone at the most vulnerable time in his life moved us to act. It has come at a great price to everyone involved, but that’s okay, he’s worth it.

Have you ever had someone’s face light up because you walked into the room? That’s how my day started. I peeked into my dad’s bedroom and said, “Hi Dad!” and his face lit up for joy. Eric was already taking care of him, helping him wake up and get ready for the day, but Dad was groggy and unmotivated to get out of bed. But at the sound of my voice, he turned his head, opened his eyes and his face lit up with joy.

“Good morning, Dad,” I said.

“It is now that you’re here,” he said.

“Eric and I are your friendly CNA’s, here to take care of you,” I joked.

“Let me see, we’re your… “Children, Near, Always,” I said, using the beginning letters from the acronym Certified Nursing Assistant.

Children near always. Do you know what that means to an 89-year-old who’s had to rely on strangers to take care of him for the last four years?

Eric pulled Grandpa up off the bed and he grabbed his walker. Steadying himself, he began his labored journey to the bathroom. Dad has Parkinson’s and it takes him a while to get his motor apparatus in gear.

As they headed for the Friday morning shower, I caught a glimpse of my dad from behind, bent over, pajamas sagging, a tell-tale sign of the soaking wet diaper underneath.

We would have to wash his pajamas and sheets again today.

As I gazed at the scene unfolding before me, the tall grandson securely grasping the safety belt of the little old man hobbling to the bathroom, I commented to Eric, “That’s Jesus, you know.”

“I know,” he replied.

“…I was naked, and you clothed Me…” Mathew 25:36