This past week, my brother and I went to our hometown to see about Mama and Bill, with the intention of starting home health care visits for them a few times a week – just to see that they’re taking their meds, check their blood pressure, see how they’re feeling, that sort of thing. Well, that and getting them moved back to the house Mama grew up in.
Things quickly escalated and we found ourselves on the horns of a dilemma. They can’t live alone – it’s simply no longer safe for them.
Yesterday, after a lot of gyrations, we checked them in to a lovely assisted living home. It’s like a five-star resort with wide doors and no steps.
They’re not happy about it, but today they had a good day. She played the piano and they all applauded and asked her to play again tomorrow. Bill has met some other veterans and figured out how to get strawberry ice cream any time he wants it.
This week would have been undoable without very real help from my sister, Kim, who busted ass all week getting their old house in order, and Daddy and Mary Ellen, who kept m’dawg and put me up while I was coming and going, and are, even now, running a load of laundry for Bill.
Polly and Jerry came over and helped sort out their other old house.
My friend Bruce was passing through on Thursday and we had lunch.
My friend Lori drove down from Atlanta and got us through the final push – the gathering of the little things they need, getting Bill to a haircut, being endlessly patient with my parents, and talking to my brother and me about pretty much anything but what was going on in geriatric world.
This has been a gut-wrenching decision for us, and we are grateful for all the large and small kindness shown to us.