This is not the post I wanted as my next blog entry, but alas it's my fault, because despite my best intentions, I haven't kept up with writing and posting.
8 years ago, my mom moved from her home of 40 years in Manor
Park (Ottawa) to an apartment in Vancouver. While I was with her during the
process of her relocation and to help her choose her apartment, I didn’t
physically see her after that until recently. She promised me multiple times
each year that she would visit us in Candiac. She visited once. We kept in
touch over phone calls, emails and (once the pandemic set in) via Zoom. After
several years apart and many broken promises on her part to come and visit, I decided
at the end of 2019 to surprise her for her 80th birthday (November
2020), but by then the pandemic was in full force and travel to Vancouver was
out of the question (vaccinations only started in 2021).
Throughout 2020 and 2021, our Zoom calls became more
frequent, to the point where it was a weekly appointment that we both kept.
Tuesday evenings were my “Zoom with mama” time, where we would catch up on all
things great and small. I began to notice more and more that my mother was
becoming forgetful, repeating herself frequently, starting a process of
physical and cognitive decline. She wasn’t taking the time to exercise or to
eat a varied diet of foods, and was dependent on medications for all of her
physical woes. She had no friends, no new experiences or stories to tell. It
was like having weekly “broken-record” conversations, which became
disheartening on my end. The breaking point in my mind was when one evening
during the summer of 2021 as I waited for her on Zoom, she finally appeared on
my screen, with a bruise on her forehead. Alarmed, I asked “What happened?!”
She had fallen in the bathroom (this was the second such occurrence) and
decided not to call my brother (who also lived in Vancouver, about a 20-30
minute drive away) because she didn’t want to inconvenience him. My
brother did as much as he could. He took my mother to appointments regularly, did
the occasional grocery run for her, took her out to restaurants when she didn’t
feel like cooking. But he had his life to lead as well, and a schedule that was
inconsistent due to his work. It was from this point onward that I began to
research residences near me, and to start working on convincing her regularly,
that a move back east would be best for her emotional and physical health.
I researched locations, programs, how to apply for the QC
health card, medical facilities, etc. I found her the perfect residence where
she could maintain her autonomy (a private apartment with a kitchen to cook in,
her own laundry / dryer machines) while having the availability of services for
seniors (bi-weekly apartment cleaning services, daily check-in calls, on-site
nurse & pharmacy, etc.). I spent every week convincing my mother that the
move would help her in so many ways. She finally agreed and was excited to move
into a brand new, never lived-in apartment! It was an intense and tumultuous
adventure, with so many details to consider within a period of a few months. In
the end, her move to the retirement residence saved her life.
On April 26, 2022, my mother arrived in Candiac, and the day
after that she moved to Chartwell retirement residence. 5 minutes from my home,
5 minutes from my work, an ideal location for me to be readily available to
visit or assist her. Her adjustment understandably took a long time, first to
acquaint herself with her immediate surroundings, then to develop the courage
to leave the walls of her building and walk to the grocery store, the dollar
store, the bank. I started by visiting her 6 out of 7 days of the week, and by
the end of July I had worked myself to a comfortable 2 days of visits + 2 calls
per week because she was suitably and proudly autonomous. She relied on me to
take her to appointments (and once my amazing husband stepped in on my behalf –
what would I do without him?), which I was only happy to do, as it would give
me a firm handle on her health status and other needs. While it was hardly frequent
enough, I would force her take walks with me when I could, because otherwise
she would use the “I’m busy” excuse to not get her daily dose of exercise and
sunshine.
I took my mother to the Praxis private medical clinic in la
Prairie on Thursday August 4th for a general assessment appointment.
We had no choice but to go private because finding a GP in Quebec is near
impossible, and I wanted for her medical records to all be in one place. At
Praxis, the assessment was performed by a nurse with the power to prescribe
medications. The nurse was thorough, attentive, and promised a follow up in 3
months following consultation of the medical records she would request be
transferred from Vancouver. My mother’s immediate vitals and overall health
seemed great (I explained that she had some memory and balance issues, and
these were promised to be followed up during the next appointment), and after
the appointment I dropped my mother off at her apartment and went back to work
for the rest of the day. The same evening, I left to go camping with my family,
to Ontario.
On the afternoon of Saturday August 6th, I
received a call from a nurse at Chartwell that my mother had been found
unconscious in her apartment entrance, and was taken to hospital by ambulance. The
fact that she lived in an apartment that made daily wellness calls was honestly
the factor that saved her life. I shudder to imagine what would have
happened were she still living in the regular apartment in Vancouver. She
was unresponsive upon discovery, and arrived comatose and severely dehydrated
at the hospital. She was tested for Covid, given a lumbar puncture to test for
meningitis, hydrated and nourished through IV tubes, diagnosed with pneumonia.
By the time I could visit her in ICU on Sunday afternoon, she was conscious but
still dehydrated and confused. The bruising on her body and her face (from her
fall) made me scream on the inside. I could not comprehend how she could have
gone from being seemingly perfectly fine on Thursday at noon, to comatose 48
hours later.
Daily visits followed. I scheduled myself to work half days only
to allow time to visit my mother. On Monday (August 08), I scheduled a video
call with my brother. My mother seemed lucid, carried on a conversation, and
nodded off from fatigue halfway through. Her potassium levels were low, her
blood pressure high, and her sodium had been regulated from dangerously high
levels upon arrival in hospital. She had a bowel blockage that took 2 full days
to relieve, and was given only water and ice (and nourishment via IV) until
Tuesday. I received a full and personal consultation from her attending
physician Dr. Bourrellis, as well as a detailed telephone conversation from her
the following day. On Tuesday (August 09), she was transferred out of ICU (a
significant improvement) to the upper floor of Anna Laberge Hospital, where I
accompanied her during her transfer. She refused to sit or stand, and was not
kind or cooperative with the medical staff. She told them she wanted to die. I
was distraught, and did my best to talk to her and convince her that listening
to them and doing what they asked would ensure a quick return home. During the
most recent phone call from her current attending physician Dr. Ouellette, I
was informed that most of her above-mentioned levels have been regulated,
medications adjusted, test results are in or near the “normal” range. What a
relief!
The current challenges that face my mother are her
willingness and capability to work through rehab, and her willingness and
desire to eat and ingest medication. She will be working daily with a
physiotherapist as well as an ergotherapist to see how she progresses back to
performing daily functional activities. Finally, she will be assessed by a
neurologist for her dementia, which is apparent but not formally addressed or
treated.
In shock myself (and feeling guilty - although I know I
shouldn’t - that I was away camping when my mother was found), I felt compelled
to start writing things down, and so here I am putting disjointed thoughts and
events into writing. I am visiting my mother daily, and will write more on her
progress in another blog entry, but let me say that her recovery is slow and
difficult.
In a couple of hours, my family will be leaving to Hawaii
for 2 weeks, on a vacation that has been planned for a year and a half, and in
which I was supposed to participate. My heart is broken that I can’t go, but I
had to put my mother first. She has no friends here, and no family except for
me. I’m feeling the weight of responsibility for her along with sadness because
my children are heartbroken that I won’t be leaving on our long-anticipated summer
vacation (it could be the last one, as my kids are teenagers and will most
likely be working at summer jobs next year). But more on all of this in another
long-winded blog post to come. Trying so hard to be a source of strength and
positivity, but so tired and weak as well.
ps: I will edit this post soon I hope, with photos. ;)
Comments