How to Cope with a Parent in a Nursing Home

My mom has smoked her life away. For the last six years she has been in and out of intensive care. Eventually, she needed an oxygen tank at her side. Lung disease never gets better; it only gets worse as the agonizing months creep along. Her last episode in the hospital was the final nail in the coffin, so to speak. She was placed on a ventilator, with a permanent tracheotomy. With that procedure, she then required twenty four hour care, which my sister and I couldn't provide. She's been in a nursing home for a year and a half.

As a kid, I had terrible memories of these long term facilities. Three of my grandparents spent their last days on earth in a cold, dark, generic room that was tucked away in some corner of a mile long smelly hallway. I dreaded those visits. I vividly remember the distinct aromas that each corridor seemed to own. I tried like hell not to look into the individual rooms, but it couldn't be helped. It's like not trying to look at a car wreck. You just have to. Some mysterious giant hand engulfs your head and twists it towards the gruesome scene.

Each cubicle housed monster equipment that hummed, chirped, beeped, flashed, pumped, sucked, and gurgled. Embedded amongst all that science was a helpless human being. Most faces were lifeless with open mouths and glazed over eyes. Most rooms usually had a television blaring. Sometimes Bob Barker's voice still takes me right back to those miserable visits.

As an adult, I'm not as intimidated by all the progressive medical technology. But as I walk down the seemingly brighter hallways to visit my mom, I realize the smells haven't changed in thirty years. Now though, I try to make eye contact with the bedridden patients, and at least exchange a smile, which has even led to some interesting conversations. You'd be amazed at what elderly people have to say. I guess what I'm trying to say is that next time you are in one of these dreary places, don't hesitate to say hi to one of the roaming residents. It will brighten their day, and yours!

Mom has good days and bad days. Sometimes I can tell she's been crying as I enter her room. Even though the whole event is depressing for all, I enter the room with a positive attitude and encouraging words. We've hung family pictures on the walls, had satellite hooked up to her television, and even got her a wireless laptop computer. Actually, it's a better arrangement than her tiny apartment that she still won't give up. I guess she has hopes of returning home someday. But that will never happen according to the doctor. Oh well, it's her money. Which soon, Medicare will run out, and Medicade will kick in, taking all of her assets anyway. Isn't it just horrible how our seniors are literally stripped of everything they've worked for their whole lives?

With the six foot hose of the ventilator acting like a dog leash, my mother has reached the end of her rope. No pun intended. She is so fed up with her situation that she has refused any future emergency treatment. I can't blame her. I don't think I would have lasted as long as she has endured. Even though we've tried to give her all the comforts of home, she misses her privacy and solitude of her apartment. All I can do is be consistent with my attitude, bring her goodies from the store, and smile a lot. I think that's all I would hope for from my kids if someday I end up in a nursing home.