July 5/98
Since I have been home so little on weekends the past two months, I decided to take dad to church today. Don't know why, really, except that it was a gorgeous day and he has always enjoyed church so much. I called the home and asked them to have him ready for 10:30. I walked over and found him dozing. I asked him if he was ready to go to church; he looked at me, no reaction. I asked again and again and finally got a glimmer of understanding. Off we went and thank God we did. The service was an absolute joy.

Unknown to me (not a faithful church-goer!), our church was the final stop on the tour by a US choir from Houston, Texas. The group consisted of about 60 in the choir, the minister and his wife who is a concert pianist and a solo trumpeter(?).

The service opened with the pianist playing Bach on a piano brought in for the occasion; breathtaking. The choir then swept up the aisle; dad, who was parked beside my pew in the aisle, was literally engulfed in a sea of ruby red robes; the look on his face was wonderful!

The service was mostly music with a short sermon...fabulous as well. All in all a completely wonderful experience for both dad and me. I watched him quite carefully for restlessness; I saw tears of rememberence which brought tears to my eyes. Sometimes God moves in mysterious ways!

July 6/98
It is now virtually impossible to transfer dad from his wheelchair without two very strong people or the use of a hoist. Most of the staff now refuse to use anything but the hoist. Miajan suggested we get a commode on wheels for dad; he can be transferred to the commode, then wheeled into the bathroom to use the toilet, since the bathroom is way too small for a transfer or the hoist. So at 9:00 am this morning I went out to a health care supply place and found a used but perfectly suitable commode, not too big and in fact looked as though it had never been used. I dropped it off at the home; dad was asleep in the doorway of his room so I didn't disturb him as I had to go back to work and he wouldn't understand my fast coming and going.

July 8/98
Popped over to see dad after a doctor's appointment. On the way up to his room I stopped by to see the nurse manager and told her I had a problem: whenever the staff have to clean dad up after a bowel accident, they move too quickly and roughly. They hurt him and he lashes out. Then they label him as 'difficult and aggressive.' Well, no wonder...anyone would be under those circumstances.

She certainly agreed that the procedure should and could be done better. She happened to be looking at scheduling to see where more help is needed; 5th floor where dad is has apparently become as heavy care as 6, so they are going to add more staff. I then said, well then they should have more time to devote to personal care and not be so speedy and aggressive. She told me she is trying to change some care attitudes...that the staff should concentrate on the residents and not on the task; if they have to leave their shift and a bed isn't made, it's not the end of the world. Move from tasks to people...I pray it happens.

His companion had not arrived due to a personal emergency so I organized dad, got his teeth...luckily the head physiotherapist happened to be on the floor. I grabbed her to point out the problems I see with dad's wheelchair. He is sitting very crookedly due to left sided weakness from his strokes and too far back in the chair so his feet don't always touch the ground. Cathy thought adjusting the back forward would certainly help; this will be done in the next few days.

I took dad downstairs to sit out on the front deck; some other companions were there so we all had a nice visit. I had to go back to work so Sheila said she would take dad up for lunch.

July 12/98
I had to work this weekend so decided to see dad later on Sunday over dinner. I found him in his room somewhat groggy; we went outside and met Mireille and her lady so chatted with them while I sewed some holes in dad's shirts. We agreed to meet downstairs after dinner and go to the village for coffee.

Dad ate a good dinner; I cut his hair which badly needed my attention, then went to meet Mireille and Sarah. We ended up on the patio of a nice restaurant in the village when Mireille suggested a glass of wine to celebrate France's win in the world cup. Dad and Sarah seemed to enjoy themselves; we ordered a pizza and dad and Sarah between them ate the whole bread basket.

I noticed dad's left eye was very red...allergies I thought. Well, when pus started appearing in the corner of his eye I knew it was more than allergies. When we got back around 8:00 pm I asked the night nurse to clean his eye; also to take his temperature and listen to his chest which was sounding very congested. She said she would chart all this and have it attended to tomorrow.

It was too early to get dad ready for bed; if they put him to bed before 9:00 pm, most times he is struggling to get up in half an hour. They have found him with his legs between the rails, all over the place. So I put him the doorway of his room so he could watch the hallway action and said goodnight. I knew he was distressed; on the way home he started grabbing at the poles on the sidewalk, trying to stop our progress. I asked him what was bothering him, if he needed something, if he was upset at me for leaving...all he could say was 'no no no no' over and over. Since I could not understand what he was trying to express, I told him I loved him and I would always be there for him and that he knew these things. I left, sad and feeling helpless. The next day I woke up with a stress-induced migraine. It now is evident to me that everytime I visit dad I get a migraine, no matter what the quality of the visit. I guess that although I think I am finally handling his condition, my subconscious still cannot deal with watching him deteriorate. What a life...

July 16/98
Since I was going away tomorrow, I visited dad this morning. I took him outside, then gave him lunch. His eyes are still infected so I bathed them and he is still so tired..they say it's the weather but I don't know. I got very angry because extra chairs keep being pushed into my dad's room, to the point where it's tough to move around. So I took them all out into the hall and said they were not to keep putting these into a private room. Ya gotta do this every once in a while to keep your sanity...I checked his drawers and closet to make sure his clothing was in order and took some home to wash. They do washing but sometimes I just have to do it...Once a loved one is in a home, you do lose control over things to a certain degree; I must fight to retain some, over his meds, his clothing..

July 24/98

July 26/98
Since I was in the city this weekend and the weather was lovely , I decided to take dad to church. As I was walking into the home, I saw Mereille and her lady Sarah. I asked if they wanted to go to church with me and dad; they did and suggested lunch in the village afterwards. So I went up to get dad; he was in the doorway of his room, snoozing. I woke him and told him we were off to church. Basically the service, again with a guest minister, was not as enjoyable as the last time. I didn't care for the hymns selected and the sermon was so convoluted that I started reading the bible, (Genesis), another disappointment. The 'new' version reads like it was written for kids; for me the beauty of the bible rests in its language and I will forever mourn the day the King James version was replaced. But this is not the place for such a digression!

We walked to the village, only to find the restaurant closed, so I suggested we come back to my apartment. Since I knew dad was hungry, I started to really push it. But he began to get very agitated and finally managed to say.."too much power...' so I slowed down! I made sandwiches and dad managed to choke quite severely when I wasn't looking and looked quite pissed off at me. I asked him if he was mad at me; he said yes. But he couldn't articulate why.

We made it back to the home about 2:00 pm; sat outside for a bit but dad continued to be agitated so I took him upstairs to be toileted. I can't tell you how much I hate watching this. They stand him up in his wheelchair, pull down his pants and diaper, then plunk him in a rolling commode to get him into the small bathroom. The stunned look on his face says it all. God, I'd hate to have that done to me, but there is nothing I can do..he is too heavy for me and they are just doing their job. I'm crying as I write...I feel so helpless and yet I know that as places go, he is lucky, to be where he is and have a companion and everything he needs. But it's so bloody inhumane.

I asked him if he would lie down for just a while to give his bottom a break; he nodded yes. But once down, he was so agitated, pulling at the sheet and trying to get up. When he saw me he would calm down but not for long. Then I figured out he wanted to lie on his side so somehow I managed to shift him. But again he began to pick at everything. So I started to rub his lower back where the arthritis is so bad, and in one minute he was asleep. I watched over him some more, then left, tired myself from pushing the wheelchair and the tension over his choking at lunch, hoping no pneumonia ensues. I wonder if I'll get a migraine..