I just spent seven weeks on the Alzheimer’s floor—settling my mom into a nursing home
I visited Mom every day, trying to help her get her bearings and become as self-sufficient as possible. Only five years ago she was doing yoga and hiking with her friends, so it was hard to see her in a wheelchair trying to remember what she was supposed to do to make it move. Suddenly, I had to mother my mother; it was like having a baby again.
Downsizing Mom’s belongings from her one-bedroom apartment in a fancy assisted-living home, to fit into a shared room in a nursing home, was a daunting task. Since we were still paying the rent at her apartment, they let my sister and I stay there until the end of the month to pack, while still visiting Mom every day. Our siblings and their kids all made quick trips to Calgary to visit Mom and to choose any keepsakes they wanted.
After researching the cost of shipping furniture, my husband drove down from Whitehorse to take some of our family heirlooms back to the Yukon. He engineered the packing beautifully and got it all home safe without breaking the glass windows on the china cabinet that my dad made.
Mom was so depressed that she was not able to help us make any decisions … even which clothes to save. We chose to keep only soft, stretchy, comfortable clothes, as well as any that still had tissues in the pockets, as they were obviously her favourites. Everything else, we donated or threw out.
While we were packing our Yukon-style moving truck, we often saw the Senior Relocation Solutions van outside the loading dock. It was interesting to learn that there are companies that specialize in moving seniors and will pack, unpack and donate everything for you. A nice option if you have more money than time.
My mom was in the hospital for three weeks before they found her a warm bed in a nursing home. My youngest sister, Valerie, got there first and lined the windowsill with pictures of Mom’s relatives, past and present. Many of the hospital staff commented on how nice it was to have something to ask Mom about, to get to know her better. When she moved into her shared room at her new place we hung the pictures on her wall, which made it feel more like home.
After all the moving was done, Valerie went home. I rented an Airbnb, close to Mom’s nursing home, for a month, so that I could continue supporting her. I always enjoyed the walk, there and back, to clear my head and be in the moment.
The first week, I observed the nursing home’s rhythm, to decide when the best time was to visit. On weekdays there was always some kind of organized physical activity, between breakfast and lunch (like hitting big balloons around), that Mom was more willing to join in on if I wasn’t there. The afternoon activities were more my style—like weekly Bingo and Happy Hour with live music—so that’s when I planned my visits.
Whenever it was nice enough, we went for a stroll through the park in her wheelchair. We used the Handi-Bus to get to the optometrist. What a great service that is! When we took the CTrain to the mall for a Teen Burger, it was heartening how helpful people were.
The hardest part of every visit was leaving. I liked to wait until Mom was tucked into bed, but she would always get teary-eyed at bedtime. So, one night, after having a cleansing cry on the walk home, I decided to start leaving her at dinnertime. It was still hard to leave, but nice to have a bit more time to myself in the evening.
As soon as I was outside, I would try to remember to do a little shudder dance to shake off any unwanted energy. Then I would touch or hug a tree (if nobody was watching) to soak up some of its grounding energy.
Most nights I would write a quick update in a group email to my extended family and a few of Mom’s friends. Not only did it keep them in the loop, but it helped clear my mind. Now they return the favour by writing updates to us all whenever they visit Mom.
One of the bonuses of this whole transition is that it has brought our family even closer together. My brother is the only one who still lives in Calgary, and his five sisters are spread around the country. We all have different strengths and personalities and have managed to share the load by each doing what we can. I also had the pleasure of catching up with some of my aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews—as well as with Mom’s friends who live in Calgary, who help support Mom, too. When your turn comes to care for your parents, remember to appreciate and honour this chance you have to return all the care you were given. The last day that I saw Mom, I helped her out of her wheelchair and onto the toilet, three times … and wiped her butt afterwards. As gross as it was, it felt like a gift to her—payback for all the times that she had wiped mine.
