Hurricane Madness or Gone With the Wind

There was a hurricane a few days ago that became a tropical storm by the time it blew through our area.  However, we had straight line winds that downed trees and left huge areas without power. 

"Are you okay?" friends texted.

"Nope!" I answered truthfully.  Frankly, if not for my mother we would've been fine.  A little thing like a power outage is merely an inconvenience unless one has a 99 year-old mother with Alzheimer's to contend with.  So, here was the scenario:  Without power we had no lights and Mom couldn't see.  She was disoriented.  We hurried to plug in the generator to run our sump pump so there would be no basement flooding.  We got out lanterns and flashlights.  We took one of the lanterns to Mom's bedroom because all of the night lights were plug-ins and there was no electricity to power them.  We had no monitors, no safety alarms, and no camera for her room.  Wait a minute...WE HAD NO POWER--HENCE NO CHAIR LIFT TO HER ROOM!!!  Together Skip and I tried to get Mom up the stairs with her fighting us all the way.

"Will someone get this man off of me, DAMMIT!!!" she yelled angrily.

"C'mon Mom," I coaxed.  "This man happens to be my husband, Skip.  I am your daughter and we are trying to help you get to bed."

Mom calmed down enough to allow Skip to assist her up the stairs with her groaning every minute of the way.  She was certain that we were both trying to kill her. 

Once I got her changed and tucked into bed I left the battery-powered lantern on for her to find her way to the bathroom in the middle of the night should she feel the need.  Why I bothered, I don't know, since the only need Mom ever has is to tear her nightgown off, take her diapers off and proceed to wet the bed.  Sometime during the night, the lantern battery died and THAT'S when Mom decided to awaken and walk around.  We, of course didn't know, because there was no monitor to awaken us by her motion.  She stumbled around, knocking things over and finally crawling back to bed.  I can only imagine what went on up there.

In the morning when I went to get Mom she was sitting on her bed looking like the hurricane had swept into her room overnight. The electronic monitor was lying on its side on the floor.  The lamp was off the table and the table was swept clean of all of its items. Her nightgown was off and tossed on the ground.  Her covers were strewn and a towel was wrapped over her otherwise naked body.  She looked like a scene from Gone With the Wind (um...literally) as her room was laid to ruin and the only things remaining were upended.  I assessed the situation and quickly discovered that while we were using the sump pump in the basement, we could have used it upstairs as well to alleviate the flood that Mom created on her mattress.  The room smelled like a barnyard, everything was soaked through and through, and I knew that there would be no flood insurance to cover this disaster.  We had no hot water (having tankless water heaters that require power to turn on.)  Mom had been lying in urine and obviously found that rolling around her wet bed was fun because even her hair smelled like Eau de Pee.  There was no bathing her because the water was too cold.  According to her screams of protest, I was trying to contribute to her demise by even thinking of cleaning her."It's FREEZING!  Stop it right now.  You're killing me.  HELP!  POLICE!!!"

"Okay, okay.  I won't shampoo your hair or wash your bottom.  Fine.  Let's just get you dressed." Mom shuffled her clothed bottom onto the wet bed and sat down before I could get her to stop. "NOOOOO!"  It was too late.  Her clean pants now wore a nasty wet spot that was sure to smell.

Once Mom was dressed we needed to get her to navigate her way down the stairs.  Between the two of us, Skip and I managed to take her down one slooooooow step at a time.  Explaining to her that there was no power and that we had no way of using the chair lift was like shouting in the wind. She couldn't hear or process our words.  Once downstairs, Mom made a beeline for her place at the counter to have breakfast; only breakfast was not as usual.  We had no way of heating water for tea and no way of toasting her bagel.  Mom didn't complain but seemed unsettled.  We gave her coffee since we ran a wire from the small generator to the coffee pot. Mom complained, "This is bitter!"

"Sorry Mom.  It's all we've got," Skip told her.  Then he explained about the hurricane, the power outage, etc. for the 10th time that morning.  Mom ignored him and went back to eating her piece of cold bread with cold cream cheese and cold strawberry preserves.  She grimaced and scowled while I secretly wished I could just go to a hotel somewhere far away and let Skip, the dog, and my mother fend for themselves.  (Okay...not fair to Skip...or the dog.)  Truth be told, my dark thoughts were not fair to Mom either. It wasn't her fault that she had Alzheimer's.  It wasn't her fault she was old, incapable of understanding why she had to forego hot tea and toast in the morning, why we had wires running down the hallway making it unsafe for her to cruise around and around with her walker aimlessly moving without thoughts or understanding.

Skip plugged the charger into the phone and then into the generator.  We were back online!  He checked the power outages in the area and reported grimly that it was widespread.  This was a bad one.  There was no hope that we would see power restored anytime soon.  Our sump pump was still working hard to get rid of all of the water seeping in and we knew that we would have the generator working overtime downstairs so being prudent with its use for refrigeration, charging batteries and making coffee was important.  

By the third day without power we were getting pretty proficient 'roughing it' in our home.  However, Mom gave us quite a bad time being walked up and down the stairs without use of the chair lift. Her patience had dwindled to complete refusal to move. She was terrified and frozen stiff to one spot halfway up the stairs the night before.  No matter what we did, how we talked to her, how we tried to reassure her she was bent on flinging herself backwards down the stairs.  When we physically pushed her to keep moving, she screamed bloody murder and at the top step, flopped down on the floor crying hysterically until we bodily lifted her and carried her to her room. Oh!  The commotion as she pushed and cried.  (I mused that perhaps we should just leave her on the floor, open the windows and let the residual  winds carry her away.)  

In the morning, when I went into the kitchen to start coffee I found out there was no water!  Our community water tower was dry.  (We later found out that without power, the sensor to signal water levels was not operating, so we had drained ourselves of all water.  Just about that time, Mom decided to go to the bathroom.  (AND I DON'T MEAN TO GO PEE!) There was no way to flush.  ARGH!  I was now beginning to panic.  I yelled for Skip to call the water emergency line and tell them that this was a major emergency.  I guess that his explanation and tone of voice was enough to get someone out here ASAP.  While we awaited the solution to the problem I suddenly began smiling and feeling an unexpected calm spread throughout my mind and body.  Being an ex-Girl Scout, I have lived a lifetime by their motto 'Be Prepared'.  I was prepared.  While madness might have prevailed, I was still sane enough to remember that storm preparedness included an ample supply of wine.  It was 11:00 AM and frankly I was ready with my Cork puller and a wine glass. While the power was out, nothing was working, and things were going from bad to worse...NO PROBLEM!  My coping mechanisms were thankfully still fully functional.

It's Every Man for Himself -- But Don't Forget Mom!

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.