A Moving Experience

Mom is moved into her suite in assisted living. Hooray!

For the last week before The Big Move, she talked about how glad she'd be to move away from the voices she's been hearing and into the new place that felt so much better than her apartment building. What a relief it was to find her looking forward to the nice two-room suite with large bathroom and huge walk-in closet in assisted living. She's still part of the retirement community where she's lived since my dad passed away, so some of the personnel are the same, but the level of attention to the residents is tremendously different. Independent living means just that: people live in apartments (with buttons for calling emergency personnel in medical emergencies), and although there are activities, people are considered entirely self-sufficient so the social life within the building depends on residents going out of their rooms to attend them. Residents decide whether to cook their own meals or purchase them in the cafe. Most still drive, they manage their own lives, and they don't require much of any help. At this point in her life, my mother needs much more than that, so assisted living is the best option.

In this facility's assisted living residence, the two wings are large squares with the suite doors opening onto a common balcony that overlooks the floor below. There are many large and nicely appointed sitting spaces for daily coffee klatches in the morning, viewing television on a large screen tv, libraries, card playing, computer use, and several different libraries. There's a laundry room on the floor but residents' laundry is done for them on a weekly basis (which means name tags ironed into every sheet, towel, sock, sweater, etc.) and housekeeping changes their beds weekly and cleans the apartment every other week. There's a beauty salon on her floor where my mother had her hair done yesterday, and on the bottom floor there's a lovely dining room where meals are served. It's like a small restaurant because each meal provides a selection of main dish and sides, and the wait staff comes around to take your order, delivers it, clears, and offers to package leftovers for folks who want to take them to their rooms for later consumption. But the part that gives my siblings and me peace of mind is the health care that's the essence of assisted living in this community.

The folks who run this facility are concerned about the whole person. Not only do they keep track of what meals each resident eats (not just for financial purposes but for nutritional ones), but they take care of medications twice a day, and they respond to a pager to answer any and all questions or problems the residents have. They drop in just to say hello and see if there's anything they need or would like to talk about. They require that residents sign out of the building when they leave so they're accounted for if any "event" (fire drill, etc.) occurs. (That's something she'll need to get used to; she left the building to visit us at her old apartment and "help" us sort things without signing out which caused the staff to call all the contact phone numbers, tracking her down as she was with me buying a tiny refrigerator. We had a little talk about why she couldn't neglect signing out again.) A physician and a counselor visit the building weekly. Perhaps most noteworthy is the genuine kindness that every staff person there shows to every resident, no matter how many times they need to repeat responses to the same question. They know their clients well, they know the habits of elderly folks well, and they firmly believe in each person's right to live in dignity. We kids are thrilled that our mother is in this place that feels so right to her and for her.

I'll take her to the audiologist this afternoon as one of my last medical journeys with her, even though the staff there could do it. My reasoning is that this doctor may be able to help manage the auditory hallucinations that Mom has been having, and I want to be there both to be sure she tells him about it and to hear his verdict about what, if anything, can be done to ease them. She still hears "music" which I believe to be the hum that's background noise in lots of places: air conditioning/heating, lights, machines, vending machines, automobile engines, etc. The "music" she hears in the new suite (without an actual kitchen, it's not truly an apartment) isn't threatening to her, as it was in the old apartment, and "it's too low volume for me to hear any words" so it's not threatening to her, she says. The fact remains that she still hears "music" that needs to be accounted for in order for her (and us) to feel completely comfortable with it.

Bro has been here since Sunday, up from Texas, to help Sis2 and me (Sis3 is in charge of ironing name tags into every fabric possession other than curtains that Mom has, a huge but vital job) in clearing out the old apartment. I may have mentioned before that her apartment was a cluttered mess, but the job has been more overwhelming than any of us really expected. Mom was allowed (I'm the one who helps explain to her what she can have in the new place) two doll cases full of dolls, and she's happy with that, believing that Sis2 and I will take good care of and sell appropriately her other dolls. They're being stored in a temp controlled storage area for now. However, the five rooms of the apartment were crammed to overflowing with assorted stuff accumulated over the past 62 years. Much has been donated to the local Salvation Army and the retirement community's Sunshine Fund auction, some small stuff with practical use or sentimental value has been taken by us kids, and some is making its way out in black plastic bags to the dumpster. For the past couple of nights, Bro has stayed here with us since the cost of this trip is steeper than he'd planned for, and I'd forgotten how much he talks. He's someone who's not content with silence, so that's been a little adjustment, but he's been such a help and he'll be gone on Saturday, so I can endure for a couple more nights.

Let me say once more what a relief it is that all these pieces have fallen nicely into place, and that Mom is in just the right living situation for her.