It became evident that Ma had lost her ability to manage her health care. There were unfilled prescriptions hidden throughout the house, and an evening ritual of pulling out a plastic tub and rummaging through multiple prescription bottles, some current, some outdated and some unnecessary. What she was or was not taking was a mystery. I first had to make arrangements to meet with her doctor to determine what she was taking and why. I knew she was delusional and forgetful but didn't know why or what was being done for her. Ma had a diagnosis of vascular dementia. This is a hardening of the arteries to the brain and many of the medicines Ma was taking were prescribed to facilitate oxygenated blood flow to the brain to minimize the symptoms. Not taking them increased her dementia and threatened her life. I was not overly impressed with her doctor so I took all her prescriptions to a pharmacist to understand what they did and if any of them were unnecessary or counteracted the others. He was right on with his choices and I was humbled by the experience. I regret judging him so harshly, but she is my Ma, for whom I feel personally responsible, and he is a paid practitioner that I have no personal relationship with.
I had a hard time finding a way to get all the prescriptions to be filled at the same time every month so one trip to the pharmacy was all that was required. This actually became quite easy as I discovered unused prescriptions everywhere and actually got a free month as I had more than enough of everything. Now the challenge became getting her to take them in the proper dosages at the right times. This was accomplished by color coding several daily dose containers. The doctor changed her prescriptions to make her dosing only day and night so I could administer them without having to rely on her memory at all. So the dance began.
I used to fill the daily dose containers and gave them to her leaving her in charge of the taking of the medicine, this never really worked but I had to try. I used to leave the prescriptions in the kitchen cabinet until they disappeared early one month and I spent two days looking for them and finally finding them hidden in Ma's room. She claimed that someone had been sneaking in to take her drugs, a delusion. I told her that I didn't think there was a street use for aricept, lipitor, nitroglycerine patches and potassium. The medicines went under lock and key and I distribute them daily like Nurse Ratchet in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest". My Cuckoo's Nest is every bit as entertaining as hers.
I leave the morning doses in a cup on the kitchen table and usually return home to find one or more of them has not been taken. At night I physically watch her take the medicine like some attendant on a Psych Ward. What she takes and doesn't take is truly indicative of how delusional she becomes. I can manage my own stress level by insuring her medicinal intake.
Ma has been increasingly delusional since the death of my sister in November. She is definitely waiting for the end. I have mixed feelings about this as I get tired of taking care of her but really don't want to see her go. I want her to be happy and I don't believe she is suited for this world any longer. No entertainment beyond the daily paper and the unbelievably loud television watching. She relives better times from earlier days and asks the same questions over and over like a drunkard in his cups. She really needs to go to her final rest so she can be at peace and I need to feel empowered do go about the business of getting old myself. I really want to go like my father, full of piss and vinegar till my last breath, but I hope I never turn my two girls into Shanty Care Givers. Give me a pillow sandwich if I ever lose my wits and can't take care of myself.
