Home Health to the Rescue (My Rescue)

Being a caregiver is a 24/7 job. You live your life for someone else, always putting their needs before your own. In a lot of ways, that’s the hardest part. It’s hard to understand how difficult it can be to even work in 30 minutes to take an uninterrupted bath. Your time is not your own. You have to consider how your every action might affect the person you are caring for.

It is so much more intense than being a new parent but similar in many ways. I find myself checking to see if he is breathing as he slumps in his chair napping his days away. I find myself waking frequently at night and listening for the sounds of him breathing through the monitor. Instead of diapers you deal with Depends. Instead of crying you deal with cursing and yelling.

At times, he won’t let me out of his sight. If I leave the room for even a couple of minutes, he becomes hostile or pouts, insisting that everything is more important to me than he is. At other times, he wants me to go away and leave him alone, to quit hovering and telling him what to do. Frustration, helplessness, and a sense of feeling overwhelmed have become my constant companions. Alzheimer’s takes hostages and makes enemies. It sucks you into the trenches and fights dirty. It is a war you cannot win.

However, you can fight it and perhaps even slow it down. I started by contacting Dad’s general physician and asked if we could be reassigned to a home health agency we have worked with in the past. I told them honestly that I needed help getting Dad to be more active. That he is in dire need of contact with humanity and that I am in a bit over-my-head at this point.

On Saturday, we met Sylvia. She is the RN that will be working with us through a home health agency. She got a pretty clear picture of where his disease is developmentally while doing his intake. She suggested bringing in physical therapy, occupational therapy, a podiatrist (to help with his ¼ inch thick toenails) and an aide (who will help get him properly showered, shaved, etc. once a week). At this point, it is a constant battle to try to convince him to take a shower, it’s a battle I usually lose. It probably won’t be much longer before I will have to get in the shower with him to bathe him.

When Sylvia asked what the chief medical complaint was, I replied “caregiver burnout”. The look in her eyes clearly told me she understood. By the time she left, I wanted to throw my arms around her in a BIG hug. I also wanted to cry with relief, feeling so much less alone in my care for him.

Today (Monday), we met Helen. Helen will be his physical therapist. For the first time ever, he was not on his best behavior with a stranger around. He acted up enough to give her a pretty clear idea of what I am dealing with. He was very ugly to me every time I spoke (though he couldn’t answer any of the questions himself). At one point, he even yelled at me to “shut the f*ck up”! In a way, I was equally humiliated and relieved that someone outside our household had finally seen his dark side.

Helen will be coming 3 times a week to start and believes that she can get him to be more mobile. She is also going to work with me on ways to get him off the floor when he falls. I think we are off to a positive start. I went out to speak to her when she left and we discovered that she had been Peggy’s (the lady I take care of a couple of nights a week) physical therapist last fall. She has a very clear idea of what my life is like and I think she may turn out to be a valuable asset in Dad’s life.

I am already feeling that my load is a bit lighter. Just knowing that we are making some sort of progress to better improve the quality of Dad’s life makes my life brighter. I only wish I had known before now that there were resources available, you just have to know where to look.