COVID 19 | Sailing For The Son

I find myself in the middle of September 2020, aching to hug my mom; yet thankful that she is safe.

My mom, Mary, moved into The Heritage at Fox Run last year. It was a great move for her. At Fox Run she knows that she is safe and free to be herself. She no longer feels the need to hide the fact that Alzheimer’s disease has stolen her ability drive, manage her own medications, or even cook a simple meal for herself. Not able to cook a simple meal. Wow, that must have really hit her hard. The widow of a policeman and mother of six kids, avid gardener and coupon master, mom had always been ready with a home cooked meal. Not to mention homemade bread and cinnamon rolls! Food was always ready and abundant for our family, and for anyone else who showed up at mealtime. We ate dinner as a family every night, and we often had friends join us at the table. Along the back of the table was a bench (as opposed to chairs); with a bench there was always room for at least a couple more! I still don’t know how mom always had enough food on the table even though she never knew how many extra people might show up.

Living at Fox Run, my mom is safely cared for by people who tirelessly fix her meals, do her laundry, clean her apartment, dispense her meds and provide entertaining activities.

My husband and I would take mom out to lunch every Saturday, then I would wash and style her hair. Every week she talked about how she loves to have her hair combed and how it always reminds her of how her dad would pay her a nickel to comb his hair when she was a child. That tickled me because her dad was all but bald by the time I knew him. My brother-in-law, Jay, would pick mom up on Saturday evenings, take her to Mass and then out to dinner. Other friends and family also visited often.

Enter the Covid 19 worldwide pandemic. On March 13, 2020, President Trump declared a national emergency. On March 18, the State of Iowa recommended that assisted living facilities restrict all visitors, except in very rare circumstances. Additionally, facilities were to curtail communal dining and group activities. Fox Run put forth a heroic effort to keep all residents safe. Unfortunately, this required restricting residents to their own two-room apartments when there were active cases of Covid in the facility.

I knew that the social isolation would be hard on mom, and hard on me. Two things I didn’t know: that this pandemic would still be keeping us apart six months later (with no end in sight), and that the social isolation would have such a profound effect on mom’s physical health. I really wish that I would have noticed her physical decline. Six months ago she was practically skipping down the hallway; now she walks slowly, stooped over, with a walker.

Following a day or two of feeling sorry for myself for not having foreseen mom’s physical decline, I decided it best to make a plan and move forward. (As if there were another option.) Knowing that Fox Run was taking care of my mom’s practical needs, my new plan was to be more involved in my mom’s spiritual, emotional, and physical exercise needs.

Step One: Prayer. My mom is Catholic, and I know that she says her prayers every morning and every night. However, having not attended Mass for six months, I figured that she was missing praying with others, so I started calling her every night to say her prayers with her. We say the Catholic prayers known as the Our Father and the Hail Mary together, exchange I love you’s, and say good night. It’s sweet. Last night she told me that she sleeps so much better after we say our prayers together.

Step Two: Emotional stimulation. In addition to the daily video calls that I have been making all along, I started writing to mom once a week. She often forgets when people call her, but if she physically has the letters, then she will be constantly reminded that her family loves her.

I also asked all of my family members to call, video call and/or write to mom. My husband and I helped our preschool grandsons make almost 20 cards like these. I mail one to mom every week.

When I visit my grandsons, we video call mom together and they sing and dance for her. When they sing, “Hello Mary Lou”, mom even sings along with them. It’s so fun!

Step Three: Physical stimulation. The times that residents were quarantined to their two-room apartments pretty much curtailed mom’s physical activity altogether. Unfortunately, I was slow to figure this out. But after speaking with my daughter Becky, an Occupational Therapist, she designed an exercise routine that I can do with mom every day via video call. The routine is designed to maintain range of motion and help her regain strength in her arms and legs to facilitate walking. We do these exercises together every day now. It only takes about 10 to 15 minutes, and we enjoy it.

No one knows how long this pandemic will plague us, keeping us “socially distanced” from our loved ones. However, teaming with Fox Run to ensure that all of mom’s needs are met, I believe that I will be hugging my mom, washing and fixing her hair, as well as taking her to her favorite restaurants before long. In the meantime, I’ll follow through with my new-found plan, and hug my grandchildren!

Everyone needs a little help in these difficult times. Who can you reach out to today?

It’s September 2020, and I find myself with an old-fashioned case of Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda. For those of you unfamiliar with this guilt-filled condition, Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda is the sorry state of realizing that you could have, should have, and would have done things differently if you had only used the sense the good Lord gave a goose.

My mom, Mary, has Alzheimer’s disease. No longer able to live safely on her own, she moved into the Heritage at Fox Run last year. This was a great move for her. This assisted living facility is run by a talented and caring group of people who tirelessly spend their days and nights enriching the lives of the residents and ensuring that all of their needs are met. My mom was loving the activities with her new friends, the nice ladies who clean her apartment, do her laundry, dispense her meds and fix her meals. She was thriving. What’s not to love?

The Covid 19 worldwide pandemic. That’s what’s not to love. On March 13, 2020, President Donald Trump issued The Proclamation on Declaring a National Emergency Concerning the Novel Coronavirus Disease (Covid 19) Outbreak, declaring a national state of emergency. On March 15, the CDC issued guidance recommending that gatherings be limited to 50 people or less. That seemed outrageous. Seriously? But that was only the beginning of progressive limitations that would become the tightest restrictions on the liberty of the American people in my mother’s lifetime. All but “essential” workers were sent home, businesses shuttered-some of which would never reopen, all schools closed-some of which have not yet reopened for the fall semester. Hundreds of thousands of people lost their jobs. Churches were not considered “essential”, and we were told to “social distance” from our seniors and other vulnerable people. Unimaginable, huh? I can’t imagine living six months without a hug, but that is my mom’s current reality. On Wednesday, March 18, 2020, the State of Iowa recommended that all assisted living facilities restrict all visitors, except in very rare circumstances. Additionally, facilities were to told cancel all group activities and communal dining. And, as if this wasn’t bad enough, residents were actually restricted to their own two room apartments for periods of time when the facility had an active case of COVID 19.

As weeks turned into months, and the months turned into more months, I could see that the social isolation was really taking a toll on mom emotionally. Her cognitive decline was alarming. What I couldn’t see on our daily video calls was how much this isolation was affecting her physical health. Inside of four months, my mom declined from practically skipping down the hallway to slowly shuffling along the wall, stooped over, balancing herself on the handrails.

By month six (for crying out loud, when will this virus just go away) mom started falling, necessitating numerous trips to the Emergency Room. She is supposed to be using a walker now, but her Alzheimer’s causes her to forget to use it, which leads to more falls…it’s a vicious circle.

I send my mom her favorite peach tea (by the gallons!), ice cream bars, and the good chocolate cupcakes from the bakery, and try to tell myself that it helps. I call every day, and write to her every week, and hope that it makes a difference. I know that I would like those things if our positions were reversed. But deep down I know the truth, what I would really be needing most of all is hugs from my grandchildren. Grandchildren are the very best thing that God ever made!

Now, to the Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda. More emotional stimulation, and daily exercise-ding, ding, ding-besides prayer, my mom needs more emotional and physical exercise if she stands any chance of outliving this detestable virus and the physical restrictions that accompany it. And coming out on the other side alive appears to be the only way that mom will get hugs from her children and grandchildren on this side of heaven.

So, in classic Angie style, I waisted a few more days feeling bad and blaming myself for not taking action to ensure daily stimuli for mom starting way back in March. And, don’t get me wrong here, I secretly also blamed my friends and family who are bona fide health care professionals and Coulda foreseen mom’s rapid decline. If I Woulda used the sense the good Lord gave a goose…

Ok, pity party over, it’s time to make a plan and set it into motion the way I Shoulda done six months ago.

Step One: Prayer. My mom is Catholic, and I know that she says her prayers every morning and every night. However, six months without attending Mass, I figure she must be missing praying with others, so I started calling her every night at bedtime to say her prayers with her. We say the Catholic prayers known as the Our Father and the Hail Mary together, exchange I love you’s and say good night. It takes about five minutes, and it’s so sweet; it kind of reminds me of bedtime when I was a child.

Step Two: Emotional stimulation. In addition to daily video calls and weekly letters from me, I decided that mom would like to receive video calls and mail from my grandkids. I’m telling ya, my grandkids are cute. So I asked my teenage granddaughters to call or write to my mom. Hopefully they’ll do both! And I helped my preschool grandsons color and write cards to mom. When we are together, I video call mom and have the boys sing and dance for her. When they sing “Hello Mary Lou”, she even sings along! I don’t foresee an award winning trio act here, but it is fun to watch!

Step Three: Physical stimulation. Before the pandemic restrictions, mom was walking with her friends on a daily basis and going to exercise classes with the group. When those activities were curtailed, mom pretty much stopped walking (her apartment only has two rooms), and she stopped exercising altogether. My daughter, Becky, is an Occupational Therapist. She showed me exercises that I could do with mom every day via video call. The exercises are designed to maintain range of motion and help her regain strength in her arms and legs to facilitate walking. This only takes 10 or 15 minutes a day and we enjoy doing the exercises together.

So, there you have it, my Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda. Beating myself up for not taking on more responsibility for my mother at the beginning of all this craziness isn’t going to help. And taking into consideration the words of a wise 5-year-old, “well, there’s nothing you can do about it”. I’ll just move forward with my new-found plan, tweaking it as necessary, and hug my grandkids while I have the chance.

Now that you know mine, what is your Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda?

Tag: COVID 19

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