Safety for Seniors
I remember many years ago living in California and
experiencing a large earthquake in the early hours of the morning. As things began to topple in our bedroom, my
husband Skip and I awoke and struggled to sit upright while our bed bucked and
rocked. When the TV fell and the lamp
came crashing down across our legs, I flew into emergency mode. Throwing my arms out to keep Skip from
obstructing my ability to exit I jumped out of bed. Without waiting I bounded
down the stairs and out the front door, yelling for everyone to follow me. Self-preservation runs strong within me. (Okay, I'm not proud of this because I prefer
to think of myself as the kind of person who would ignore personal risk to help someone
else.) The moment I was outside sanity
once again prevailed. I re-entered the
house and looked up the stairs to be sure that Skip was following. He was already at the foot of the stairs and
practically out the door. The children
and their house guests were standing on the driveway with the family dog. Good!
I didn't have to go back in and check on anyone. We huddled together waiting for the
aftershocks and then recovered flashlights and jackets from the hall
closet. The neighbors were already
collecting on the street shining flashlights at each other and calling out,
"Is everyone okay?"
A few more minutes of checking up and down the block, verifying
that all were present and accounted for, some nervous giggles, some jokes about the polka dot pajamas that the man
next door was wearing, and we all returned to our homes to survey the
damage. But wait... where were my
parents? They lived up the street on the
next block, and while our neighbors had reported in, we had no knowledge of how
my parents fared. Dad had just turned 80
and Mom was in her late 70s. They were
fit and able but I worried that they might be slower to react, unable to run to
safety.
Sending our son and his two friends to run up the street to
check on them and get them to come down the hill to be with us we worried until
we finally saw them. They were badly
rattled and recounted how they didn't know what to do because they couldn't see. Dad couldn't find his way to get down the
stairs (we lost power during the quake), they couldn't find their hearing aids
and therefore couldn't hear too well, the car alarm was going off outside which added to the confusion, and Dad
couldn't find Mom who was already downstairs and calling to him. He was in a panic over that more than
anything else. When our son Bill arrived
with flashlights, Dad was more calm seeing that Mom was okay. Aside from a small cut over his eyebrow, Dad
was okay as well. Once we were all
together I vowed that I would never leave them alone in an emergency
again. They were too old for that.
Since that time, we have had many emergencies that required quick thinking, evasive action or safety procedures. It has been 23 years since that earthquake and much has changed. Mom and Dad followed us to North Carolina, both of my parents got Alzheimer's, Dad passed away and Mom lives with us now. Safety has been one of our big concerns in caring for Mom. She wanders in her room at night and so we have night lights illuminating the route as she navigates her way to the bathroom.
A few nights ago, after three days of heavy rain, we lost power just
around bedtime. I was suffering from a
strained back and moving very slowly. Since there was nothing to do but to go
to bed, we were headed to the bedroom when Skip remembered that he needed to
check the basement. "I want to make
sure that the sump pump is working."
Then it dawned on him that without power the sump pump could not do its
job. For those who are unsure of what a sump pump's function is, it is the pump
that runs automatically when water penetrates a basement from flooding/heavy
rain. When the water comes in at the
entry point it is diverted to the pump basin; the pump detects a water level
and pumps it back out before a basement floods.
It's a clever device but not when there is no power! (I laugh about how
we are so dependent on electricity that when we lose power we still forget and
try to reheat our coffee in the microwave, we flip a light switch upon entering
a dark room, and we turn on the TV. Last
night I even looked at my cell phone that was not charged and plugged it into
the charger before remembering that the charger wouldn't work without power.
UGH!)
Anyway, when Skip checked the basement he found the water
level in the basin of the aforementioned sump pump was rising, threatening to
spill over into the basement. He began
baling by hand. As fast as he baled the
water it filled back up. I called for
our son in his apartment (adjacent to our home) to come and help. Together they formed a bucket brigade to save
things from flooding. Meanwhile I lit candles,
found a lantern, flashlights, and prepared to stay awake until the power was restored. The overhead smoke alarm was chirping, a
couple of battery backups on our electronics were sounding alarms, and the
weather radio used its built-in battery backup to keep us alerted of potential
flooding. There was such a cacophony
that no one could have slept...no one except my mother. There wasn't a sound from upstairs. Then I thought about it. Wait a minute: the monitors were alerting me that the
sending station plugged into the wall in my mother's room was not
functioning. Oh...um...right -- no power! Now, I
worried that Mom could call to us and I wouldn't hear her. I got tired of the beeps
reminding me of this frightening fact, and disabled the receivers, opting to sit in the family room closer to
the apartment. I was hoping I would hear if
she opened the door upstairs. Perhaps I
would hear her cries for help. Maybe she
would be okay. I sat and waited for the power to
be restored.
It was now 2:00 AM. Skip and Bill were still hard at work keeping
the water at bay. Then it hit me; what if Mom awoke and wanted to go to the
bathroom? Her room was pitch black. There were no night lights without
electricity. I thought that I could light
a candle downstairs and take the lantern into her room to provide enough light
that she would be safe going to the bathroom.
But what about once she closed the door?
There were no lights in the bathroom.
Conversely, if I put the lantern in the bathroom, she would use the bathroom then close the door
as she exited and not be able to see her way back to bed. Mom's Alzheimer's had progressed to the point
that she could no longer problem solve.
She wouldn't know what to do. I sat in the family room worrying silently and feeling too tired to think clearly.
Skip
came back upstairs to get another bucket and asked about the lantern. "Yeah, I guess we should take it
upstairs to Mom," I told him. It
was now about 3 AM. Skip ran the lantern
up the stairs and then went back to his bucket brigade duties while I fretted. Finally, realizing
that there was nothing that I could do, I curled up in my bed trying to ignore
the incessant chiming of the smoke detector that Skip couldn't disable for some
reason. Finally, a few minutes later, I
heard the familiar click and hum that signaled our power was restored and I
happily announced to the two in the basement that they could stop baling water. They already knew it because the sump pump
immediately did the job expediently that was taking the two guys forever to do. The chirping, and beeping of all of the
warning systems ceased and our safe and happy environment was restored to
normal. Normal? Did I just actually say normal? Ha!
The next morning we learned that the chirping smoke detector
couldn't be disabled because it was the carbon monoxide detector next to it
that had been chirping. We also learned
that the battery back up to Skip's computer was not functioning and he had to
rush out to buy another one in a hurry before some other emergency and/or
crisis required its operation. Before he
could leave the house, Skip went to the pantry to get out some things for
breakfast, dropped a box that hit a jar that dropped to the floor hitting the
new economy sized bottle of our favorite Balsamic Vinegar. The unopened bottle of vinegar crashed to the floor emptying its contents all over the paper goods, the 25 pound
sack of flour, and boxes of cereal that were too big to place on the shelves
and which occupied space on the floor.
When I walked into the kitchen the room smelled like a salad dressing and there were
angry words being muttered by my poor husband who not only had endured a rough
night but whose morning was not going well either.
I left him mopping and cursing while I ran upstairs to get
Mom dressed and ready for her day. She
was standing in the hallway of her bedroom waiting for me. She didn't have her walker with her and when
I asked her where her walker was she pointed at its parking place by her bed 25
feet away. Running on four hours of
sleep, I impatiently explained that it wasn't safe for her to walk around
without the use of her walker. This
seemed to make no impression on her whatsoever. (I couldn't tell if it was her
lack of understanding or the fact that her hearing aid was suddenly malfunctioning. ) I
sighed deeply, got her dressed and escorted her to her elevator chair, assisted
her downstairs and to her morning breakfast all the while questioning how it
was that we could worry about every little safety contingency and still never
be certain that Mom was safe.
All of this is just another day in the life of a caregiver! It
is small wonder that there are days when I am less than patient, less than
smiling, and a little on edge.
Fortunately, after we put the flashlights away, mopped up the last bit
of broken glass, restored order in the house and sat down at the end of the day
after putting Mom to bed to watch a little TV, we smiled and congratulated ourselves for
getting through another day.
