Assisted Living-So you wanna help...

UPDATE Transportation problems solved!
The several agencies that help individuals with transportation each have their own set of rules. Each agency contracts with separate private companies to accomplish this mandate. And so if one agency only takes people in a designated zone, they can't pick up in another zone. In order to facilitate the Ol' Guy to the 2x a week Adult Day Care (the wonderful One Generation-send donations or volunteer there), we have to use two agencies. After a surprisingly short wait time, I have a standing order for both directions. What I love about this arrangement is that I don't have to drive and I don't have to ask for favors from others! I was very lucky and had a good friend helping out, but really one can ask so much from non-relatives.
Take away:

If you are a friend of a caregiver and want to help, offer to help decipher the bureaucracy of the various agencies. That is the real work that will last long after you grow weary of driving

Photo Collage, Assisted Living.

My friend M. says that Blogs need lots of photos. I think its because she thinks people won't read anymore and need the quick visual. She's probably right. Still, I do love me a juicy, well expressed sentence. Not that I am the purveyor of said writing, of course.
Anyway, back to the photos. Below you will see what things I attempt to do to keep The Old Guy healthy, clean and safe. Naturally, all this depends on one thing and one thing only: Him actually reading the notes. One can hope.

TDT, aka Assisted Living Part 9.

My WWII air raid ring-tone goes off. Its the Old Guy. "Say do you have my wallet?". "How would I have your wallet?" (I am 10 miles and 2 galaxies away). "I guess I must have lost it in the City Ride bus." "Ok" says I. "I'll call them", says he.
So I call them, game the system and get to a human being in less than 40 minutes. Yes, the supervisor (hold for the supervisor) says, we have his wallet. I can bring it to you on Monday. Great!
Now this was before we were going up to San Francisco (see below posts), so I thought I would try to fool the Old Guy but putting together a "fake replacement wallet". But no, each day we are gone he asks me where his wallet is. Finally, I can't take it any longer (see below post). As today is Tuesday and obviously the wallet was not delivered yesterday, I approach a City Ride driver after I drop Old Guy off at the Adult Day Care Center where he goes on Tuesday and Thursday (see future post). The driver takes pity on the crazy lady and actually calls the dispatch. They do indeed have the wallet. The driver says, in his humble opinion he would suggest I just drive out to Pacoima to pick it up, that it might be 2 weeks before they actually bring it to me. And that is just what I did.(Random thought: what a horrible place to work and why wouldn't someone want to get out of there, if only to deliver a wallet someplace nice?)
My next challenge: how to talk the Old Guy into a wallet chain.

TDT aka Assisted Living Part 7

Preparing for a trip away is always daunting, but in addition to figuring out how many black tee shirts I should bring (2 per day, if it is a hot clime) I must figure out how many tight-y white-y's to bring for the old guy. Yes, it is a lot like having a kid. Now the kid will get more capable, have a mind of their own, and come to resent you. An aging parent, will get less capable, loose their mind and if you are lucky, thank you every day. And most of you will find this charming; me? Well, lets just say its been a long 8 years...
So we hit the road, an hour late. The ride is long and hot; my left arm begins to hurt,as well as my back, and I am wondering why I didn't just rent a lot of movies with San Francisco in them?
But despite traffic (and you NOCAL folks think LA is bad, au contraire) across the bridge, we had a delightful dinner with my cousins (the liberal white sheep of that side) and fairly easy drive back (did I say that every event possible was happening in SF that night?). The next day, in true fashion, the old guy had no idea why were were here, but in spite of my impluse to do something untoward, I pushed on. We hit the beach (foggy and cold) the mission (warm and uber hip), the Zen Center-no I am not meditating, it was once my mother's home and where my parents met. No, it was A Jewish Women's Residence designed by the famous Julia Morgan. I remember Passover Seders there... And a cray-cray trip to the Ferry Building, with every other tourist. Did have a kick ass snack at the Slanted Door take out window! And a surprise visit to the Railway Museum (all the trolleys), which I dearly love.
Upon return to the Berkeley Marina, we took a plunge and short swim, showered, rested and met Hannah and Felicia at the delicious Pizzaolo in Oakland. Lovely Lena was hostess and so we got rock star treatment. One word: panacotta!
The next day we walked on the Marina, did a quick drive by of the campus, ate Bagels and Lox at a Cambodian owned bagel store and hit the road.
My left arm still hurts, and I slept like a log, but all in all, I am glad I didn't just rent the movies.

TDT or Assisted Living- part 5

My new subtitle for my series will also be the name of my TV show. So networks, get ready! The Lab Visit. For some reason the Doc (the last one in a line of fired ones-more on that someday) thinks The Dad should have some blood work. So I proceed to the Lab. One would think that would be it-a little waiting, a little poking, a little leaving. But, NOOOOO. The Lab assigns take home duty (ah, yeah, that is a double entendre). Now, he has to engage in a difficult set of steps (3) of which I will not be a party to (yes it is ok now to end a sentence with a preposition...) It did not happen according to the plan. I am ok with that. What could it detect anyway? He has made it to the amazing age of 90,eye sight,walking with the help of a mere cane, ok he can't hear and his mind is going, but basically ok. I really don't think I have to push on this. Yeah, I know, more double entendres... and this is what my life has become.

The Daughter Track (TDT) part 4

Am I repeating myself, repeating myself? Sadly I have no patience. I was given the "does not suffer fools" stamp at birth and all my life I have had to fight it. Mostly, unsuccessfully. I am generally: snarky, sarcastic, deeming, rude. I know it and for that I have had to learn to apologize. Wouldnt it just be easier to stop this behavior? Ya think? See. Even in my imaginary conversation I can't help myself. I am a bitter ol'queen (this is not an offensive statement, because in my mind, BOQ's are quick and witty. Sure there is an edge of meanness. If you had been attacked all your life you would too. This is the gay version of The Dozen's. Look that up if you have no idea what I just said.0 Back to the original thought (and that's another thing about me. I get distracted easily-in conversation, that is). I have a particularly low threshold for my father's repeating things. I generally go from about a 2 to a 10 in nothin' flat. And I know this is wrong. He has no short term memory. I will repeat myself, for my benefit. He has no short term memory. And yet I want him to use what's left of his brain to try to rationally figure out things. Why do I do that? Most people are incapable of rationally figuring out things (see political situation in the US circa, well the whole life of the country really, but especially since Reagan...). So why would I think this sweet 90 year old man, who was never a Rhodes scholar could do that now? Personality flaw they call it is AA. Indeed.

THE DAUGHTER TRACK part 3

So back to the beginning. There I was a free-wheeling lesbian, living her unconventional life, darting around the world (ok NYC and London, some parts in between) working, loving, creating havoc and doing a little good. Now I was a stay at home mom. And I didn't even get the joy of a new love! I did get a new home and some furnishings that weren't culled from the resale shop. I set up my new home for Dad and I in what I like to call the Resort. This apartment complex, expensive but had all the enticements one could want. I loved it. We settled into a new life. I found Dad a few Tai Chi classes (Seniors Waving Arms), a Senior center and joined the LGBT Temple.

JUST a moment out of the story: Why do crazy people feel the need to SHOUT their inner conversation, as they walk down the street? Wouldn't it do just to speak in at a normal level, since they are talking to themselves? And were back: Joining the Temple was a stroke of genius on my part. I did it because I found out they were going on a trip to Israel and Dad had never been. I thought at the time, tempus fugit, so we went with 25 people we did not know, but upon return 25 new friends. It was a great trip, and I was very supported. From that trip I found my sister-wives, who have been so very helpful with my TDT. Everyone is so gracious with their compliments, but there are very few who actually come through with the actual help, and these two amazing munchkins have done that for me, for many years now. Part 4: didn't you say you were a lesbian?

THE DAUGHTER TRACK part 2

My original plan was to talk about the past, but today I am having a quintessentially TDT (The Daughter Track) experience. We are waiting to be assessed for ACCESS- the service that picks people up who cannot take public transportation on their own. It is in the obscure Arts District (you knew we had one downtown L.A. right?)-off the 4th street bridge. Enter the non-descript warehouse and a line of elderly, physically challenged individuals with their caretakers awaits you. Hulls of busses,dotted yellow lines, green arrows,amid a maze of that would confuse the best minds, let alone confused or those suffering from dementia. So Dad is finally called at 12:15-we arrive at 11am. Not too bad. Told to follow green arrows to bus # 2. He gets on that bus, for about a minute then name is called with 5 others and he is made to walk into another rm staffed by what looks like ex-cons-not that I have anything against that... made to sit down, sign again then told to go back to bus #2. ( why don't they have a lap top and take it to each person?) 10 minutes later he is called again for evaluation-what health conditions do you have? Dad: looks at me and guesses. After a few more invasive questions, he has his pluse taken again. You will hear in 21 days, if not call this number...one more thing-have your photo taken (again). Then, as if pigs were actually flying in edges of East LA, we were done. 1:00pm. Dad: Why did we do that? and you wonder why my new hobby is drinking...

THE DAUGHTER TRACK-part 1

I have recently realized that all my life I have fit into various current categories: Baby Boomer, anti-war protestor,Radical lesbian feminist, Sex-positive dyke, live-r of life on life's terms, "artist", and now I am in the words of the New York Times(the paper of record) www.nytimes.com/2005/11/24/world/.../24iht-daughter.html?...all the DAUGHTER TRACK. For the last 8 (or 9?) years, I have been living with my now 90 year old father. I remember as if it were yesterday: it was the last night of OUTFEST Film Festival. I was in the Orpheum Theater, and for some reason I felt my phone ring. I peaked at it and saw a strange number, Later that night I listened the message that would redirect my life. "Debbie. this is Dad. Ann (2nd wife) died and I wondered if you could come help me." The rest,is, well my life. I went to Fresno (yes, I have some ideas on how to make that place an actual destination, but that's for another time), did what I had to do: assess the situation and figure out that it would be mutually beneficial for us to combine resources, in LA of course. Many people say very nice things about what I am doing. It is refreshing

to be on the receiving end of praise. But really I did not feel like there was another choice (and of course as I say that I realize there is ALWAYS a choice). It just seemed like the right thing to do. So that was the beginning. And so much more.