My daughter told me yesterday that their dad’s case manager says he will probably have to be moved to assisted living once he leaves rehab.
She and Kendra were told that independent living options were probably off the table. Kasi said he couldn’t stand on his own.
Well, heavens, he just had a hip replacement a few days ago. I don’t imagine he’d be quite ready to stand on his own yet.
Kasi wrote back: “Well, that’s probably true.”
I know my girls want what is best for their dad.
And it behooves me to understand why this means so much to me. As I mentioned before, I haven’t been in contact with the man in probably 20 years.
We’re talking about a man who has a Ph.D and taught psychology, but didn’t like the idea of antidepressants.
I’ve never quite understood that. His 19 year old grandson has recently been put on antidepressants and we think it has quite literally saved his life.
My ex-husband is stubborn about these drugs for some reason I’ve never quite figured out. And yet he is also the most depressed person I’ve ever known.
Searching For Local Facilities:
So here I am looking for places that could care for him in as independent a way as possible. And I don’t know why.
Many of these places I looked up this morning have the philosophy of “aging in place,” which has become very popular.
He’s probably going to be negative about any options, I imagine, as I was once married to the man.
I don’t know his prognosis. So I might just be jumping through hoops that aren’t going to be there to jump through.
I have no idea at all how much time we’re talking about. Whether it’s months or years. He just turned 78, and that’s 13 years older than I am.
Or maybe it’s that this preoccupation distracts me from my own current condition.
Now both my girls’ parents are having mobility problems. A sad fact, this unusual parallel.
Their dad fought and fought moving at all when my daughters tried to get him moved here a few years ago. He was living alone, but he’d become quite thin and frail, according to Kendra.
He seems to have already lost the battle of moving from his home town. Because he is now in a rehab facility here.
I think he still has one old friend there who he went to lunch with weekly. He’ll likely lose that, at least on a regular basis. His only brother, who is five years younger, lives there too.
Disruption Of A Senior’s Whole Life:
His life is going to be disrupted in every way. He will lose his house he’s had for years. The one his wife with severe MS died in a few years ago.
He’s never lived anywhere but Norman, Oklahoma, so he’s ground in there like a mole burrowed down in the earth.
Did you know that moles can dig through loosened soil extremely quickly. They can clear as much as 18 feet in an hour and add up to 150 feet of new tunnels under your lawn each and every day. They don’t take vacations or time off, either.
I know this because everything I write about, and in this case it was moles, I then feel compelled to look up.
Anyway, I just sent Kasi a list of the most highly rated independent and assisted living facilities in Tulsa.
She’ll probably wonder why I’m butting in.
Hell, I wonder why I’m butting in.
It’s not like we had a happy marriage, Gary and I. In fact it was mostly downright miserable.
But then, I seem to be averse to happy marriages. A fact I’m well aware of.
When One Is Faced Assisted Living:
I can just imagine what Gary’s thinking. Being forced to leave the town where he’s lived his whole life. Forced to give up his house.
His own mother has been dead for 17 years. I drove many miles as quickly as I could to get to Norman before she died. They’d phoned me and said I’d better hurry.
As I drove, I thought about what she’d said to me on the phone before she became so sick.
She said: “Brenda, I’m going to take care of Pepper for you.”
My sweet dog Pepper had just died in those last weeks and I was beside myself with grief over the loss.
It seemed I was facing yet another loss.
Once I got to her house, I climbed up into her hospice bed and held her till she took her last breath.
Those horrible deep wheezing breaths were hard to listen to. She was gasping and could no longer speak.
All I could do was hold her and tell her that I loved her. That she’d been a wonderful grandmother to my girls.
I’d been divorced from her son for 21 years. But she and I had become close over the last decade.
This was going on while her sons and their wives were chatting in the kitchen.
They weren’t in the room when she died. And I was quite angry about this, though I never said anything.
How could they let her die without being by her side when she was obviously suffering so much?
No Known Family Of Origin:
Maybe all this is because I never really had a family of origin. At least one that I knew.
I don’t even know if my own mother is dead or alive.
The only way I can explain all this is that this man is my children’s father.
And that kind of means we’re bound together for life. Even though they were both born well over 40 years ago.
I just hope the best for him, wherever he ends up.