Part 2 - The decline

The best thing that my parents ever did for me was to give me an older brother. Although only two years my senior, Kevin has always been my protector. Though some may find Kevin a wee bit crazy, I feel safest when I'm with him and I trust him completely. Always have - always will. 

Because of our shared history and the fact that we both love our sweet mum, we didn't find the 'what to do about mum' conversation difficult.  Yes, the subject matter was hard, but the ability to talk through alternatives was easy. I can say anything to Kevin, and he to me.

After mum's middle of the night foray, her doctor prescribed some anti-anxiety meds that resulted in a 2 day stay in bed. Not knowing enough about the medication, Kevin and I regularly went in to check that she was still breathing. She had literally been up for 48 hours. We figured that the combination of the new drug plus the fact that she had walked 1 mile in flip flops, spending 2 days in bed was exactly what see needed. So, for the next 2 days, Kevin and I batted around ideas. With mum comatose in her room,we were able to talk without interruption... and to drink too much alcohol.

We both had assumed that mum would spend her last days on earth in her lovely beach condo. It's perfect. She's surrounded by my dad's art, her antiques, there are no stairs so it's easy to navigate, and it's just the right size. Kevin and I spent a long time trying to decide if we should hire someone to come in and take care of her - rather than uproot her. This was my first choice, but the more we talked through the logistics, it didn't make sense. Her entire family is in New York. If these were going to be her last days, accessibility was key. Plus, Kevin, quite frankly, had had the biscuit*. He had been on duty for the last three years and he deserved a break. It was time to relieve him.

So, then we discussed the possibility of moving mum into my house in Buffalo. I certainly have the room but the place is treacherous - way too many ways to trip and kill yourself. Not to mention, her uncanny ability to slip away in the night without anyone hearing her. She may be 92, but she can move like the wind when she wants. 

On the morning of  Day 3 (post escape) I went into to her bedroom to check for breathing.  She opened her eyes and said: "what a beautiful face you have".  To which I replied, " Ha!  Who do you think I am?" and she replied "Elizabeth Ann Nicoll Martin".  

And...she's back!

Over the next couple of days she recovered somewhat. She got up from bed, showered, ate, enjoyed the sunsets, we drove to Lowe's to get some flowers for her garden. We also tried to make an appointment with a local neurologist ... you know what? That is a part of the "adventure" I won't go into. Let's just say that the Florida healthcare system leaves a lot to be desired.  

On day 6 she started complaining about hearing noises - whooshing sounds and singing. She was confused and napping a lot. She always knew who we were but was often confused where she was living. Since she seemed to boomerang back into this confused state so quickly,  Kevin and I had decided that we should look into assisted living options in Buffalo. If she were going to continue to sprial downward we needed to move fast.

My task was set out for me. I had to find somewhere that could meet her high standards, that was safe and where she could get proper medical treatment.  

I flew home to start my research. 

Stay tuned for Part 3. 

*To be no longer functional or useful; to almost perish.. Primarily heard in Canada. This old truck has worked well the last 20 years, but it's finally had the biscuit.