Go Ahead – Make a Plan

What is it about carefully designed and crafted plans that makes God say, “Oh yeah? Watch this!” And send your plans spinning on their heads?

Today SHOULD be the day we move M into the long-term care facility I spent days/weeks deciding on. Instead, today is the first day M is spending in the behavioral health unit of a local hospital to be assessed and stabilized.

I hope.

He was SO EXCITED about this past weekend. His brother was coming into town and he’s been talking about nothing else for days. Every morning when he woke up and every time he walked in the house, he expected his brother to have arrived. Future events aren’t good for dementia patients.

But finally, Friday was here and so was his brother. The Lexapro his doctor had prescribed had been on board since Tuesday and we could see a dramatic difference in his behavior. I was thrilled!

Everything was great all weekend. We did some walking, some shopping, lots of eating – even had the grandkids over Sunday morning – and it all went so well.

And then came Sunday afternoon.

I think I’ve said in the past, it’s like a switch flips, and it was just like that on Sunday. One minute he was fine, as meek as milk and having a good day. The next he was RAGING at his brother, sister-in-law and me, wanting to know what we were doing here (in his house), why we were here, and to GET OUT! Banging on the walls, banging on the car . . . in serious danger of hurting himself or someone else.

We tried everything to calm him down. Food, water, offering a walk, a ride, going for ice cream – everything was met with “NO!” He was at the point he would have said “no” to a million dollars. He wasn’t about to say “yes” to anything we suggested.

The three of us finally left the house and walked up the street, out of his sight for a while and gave him time to calm down. The calm lasted for a little while before he ramped back up again – and we continued with that cycle until he finally went to sleep.

My sister-in-law is a nurse and she and I agreed M needed to be seen by a behavioral health doctor ASAP. I found out which hospital in our area took dementia patients in their behavioral health area (not all do) and the plan was set to take him there Monday morning.

Of course, he woke up Monday morning in a foul mood, determined to say “no” to everything. He also needed to use to bathroom, but wouldn’t go in there to do it, because one of us suggested it. He finally ended up peeing in the dog’s food bowl by the back door (something ELSE for me to clean up) and then pooped his pants.

Aw man!

Of course, he denied that it had happened, but my nose knows what I know. Finally, I got him to understand that it was an accident and we would handle it – and we did, with as little fuss as possible.

We got him in the car with the promise of breakfast and drove to the hospital . . . and started the llllooooonnnnngggggg process of being admitted through the ER. It’s bad enough trying to wait as a “normal” person. But getting an agitated dementia patient to wait? That’s asking a LOT!

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view) M’s behavior was true to form during the wait. He cycled through his array of moods, which meant he was aggressive and belligerent to me – and anyone trying to keep him in the waiting room – during the 11 hours we were waiting. THAT got security involved, which put the quietus on his aggression. It also meant I had witnesses to his behavior and it wasn’t just me trying to convince medical professionals about how he had been acting, when he was sitting there, all nice and quiet.

I’d like to say I had a restful night, with him safe in the hospital, but I worried about him and didn’t sleep all that well. When I called to check on him this morning, he hadn’t seen a doctor yet, but they asked if I wanted to talk to him. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but (of course) I said yes and he immediately got upset and started begging me to get him out of there.

Memo to self – don’t talk to him on the phone. And pray that the doctors are able to get his behavior under control so he can move into a long-term care home. Where I can go visit him and we can enjoy our time together. But I’m not making any plans.