In life, things keep going along in a straight line and nothing really changes much until there is
an emergency or interruption of some sort
so it was in our story. The progressing mental decline of my MIL and her advanced age of 94 along with the inherent loss of visual acuity, strength, and balance all converged in one mighty crash. On a chilly Friday afternoon just before dinner, while we were relaxing and getting ready for a weekend, there came a huge bang from above. My daughter and I heard it, without thinking, we raced upstairs. We found my MIL where she had fallen getting up from her easy chair. She was aware and in considerable pain.
Thank goodness that in that moment everyone was home, we called 911 and the paramedics came in about five minutes. Hauling her tiny broken body down three flights of stairs was another matter entirely, it was done on an old-fashioned cloth and pole stretcher.
The surgery was thankfully scheduled for Saturday, it could be performed without general anesthesia to which she reacted badly. The family rallied and sat with her around the clock. For a month we watched her recover physically and battled the administration to find her an appropriate placement in a memory care facility.
The most important thing we learned through this process was to never give in to pressure, be firm, be kind, be open, but do not allow yourself to be railroaded into a situation both dangerous and unhealthy for our MIL. We were lucky and succeeded in finding a lovely situation for her within a short minute drive of our home, it was specifically designed for her special needs and in a small facility with low staff turnover.
Now to get her comfortable, the best advice we got from our research was to make the space appear homey with familiar object from her home so she would feel safe right from the beginning. There was enough trauma from the leg break, to the hospital stay, the ambulance ride and new senior’s home. It was a lovely way to make her feel safe and at home right away.
Her memory is now such that she is few recollections of her past, no reasoning for where she is, but one thing remains constant, she knows we belong to her as my husband visits daily, and she is safe, supervised, well cared for and never alone. Some days she is not so excited about her dinner but even now at 96 she loves her chocolates and cookies.