Putting Dad in hospice

RobOT

Well, the unimaginable has finally happened, my father was put in hospice yesterday.  It's not that I ever thought he (or I) were immune to death or the indignities of decline, but for the past ten years I've been dealing with the dementias of my parents on a very intimate, daily basis.  Up early, give meds, rush around trying to get laundry going, myself clean and somewhat presentable, work, finances, then Dad's up and getting into closets and drawers--I'm always keeping an eye on too many things at once.  Then, about three weeks ago I noticed a change in him.  He was a little slower, more confused, plaintive, like a child asking for help.  It made me sad.  Without his usual ability to stand up for himself coupled with his dementia-damaged desire to get along and care for those he loved he seemed lost.  Then the falls started, five major ones in seven days.  The day before yesterday I called the paramedics and he went to the ER, where, in spite of Corona virus restrictions he was so agitated they asked me to come in and help keep him in bed.  Seroquel made it worse, and they were afraid to give him anything else. Long story short (so much packed into twelve very long hours) Dad came out with a diagnosis of bradycardia, a slowed heart rate.  They offered a pacemaker, but at 95, with dementia, I said no,  Signed his death warrant.  Or his reprieve from the life he's struggling with.  My reprieve?  I have no doubt I did the right thing, none.  I had to do this with my mother seven years ago. And yet this time it's so much worse.  He's SO angry.  All these people are coming in and out of his house, I'm violating his space by helping him in the bathroom.  Last night he started to fall and I caught him.  He yelled at me that I had "jerked" him off his feet, continued yelling. I thought he was going to punch me, but I couldn't just drop him.  He apologized, then yelled some more.  I know this was a reaction from a day and a half of being out of his environment, handled by strangers, and having things done he didn't understand.  (He's also confirming something I always believed--men know more ways to get hurt in a wheelchair than women,  Just saying,) He's home right now, going into a hospice home is too expensive.  I don't know if the past few years have prepared me for this (Boy is his bathroom NOT designed for a wheelchair and two people), or if it's just worn me down to where I can't take anymore.  This morning I'm thinking I'm done, but there's supposedly help on the horizon. We'll see.  Thanks to those who got through reading this chronical.

harshedbuzz

RobOT-

Ugh, what a couple of weeks the pair of you have had. 

I hope you can find peace with the difficult choice you made vis a vis a pacemaker. IMO, you totally made the compassionate choice and are allowing for the option that perhaps your dear father passes gently in his sleep. A pacemaker would take that away from him or force you to decide when to deactivate the device. 

HB

RobOT

Thanks for the support.  I asked the cardiologist what he'd do for his father and he smiled and said he'd take a pass on a pacer for someone with dementia no matter who it was.  I worked in occupational therapy in skilled nursing for many years.  When I start to feel guilty my son says to tell myself what I would tell my patients' families.  Sometimes it helps.

Quilting brings calm

RoBOT- I feel you’ve made the best choice.  Why put him thru a surgery to prolong his existence when it’s not really even that?  My parents don’t want that  for themselves and your probably didn’t either.  You’ve done the best you can for years now.

M1

Robot, no question in my mind that you're making the right choice, none whatsoever.  It's not even a choice, really.  It's acceptance that life ends, and we can still be reverent about life while saying our goodbyes.  I'm still sorry for the pain, though.

One of the bravest things I saw my mother do was NOT treat the final UTI that turned into sepsis and that finally took my grandmother's life at 98.  When the nursing home called Mom that Grandma had a fever and didn't look good, Mom said she'd be right there.  She sat with her all night, to make sure she was comfortable and not in distress.  Tylenol to treat the fever, that was it.  It was a final common pathway of one of the many processes that take place when life is coming to an end.  And she didn't die alone:  something we could all wish for in these covid days.

I hope Hospice is helpful and gives enough physical support. My thoughts are with you.