<p>We have a portable wheelchair that my father used, but my mother will need a strong one, like, soon based on my assessment of her yesterday. I can’t imagine getting a regular wheelchair in the trunk of a Subaru Legacy. I can hardly get the walker in. Can a regular wheelchair fit in a standard sedan? I will use these posts above for (what looks like) the near future. </p>
<p>LF:
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<p>Yes, clearly afraid, and I don’t know why. No one would be surprised if I went off topic (it’s relevant here) and contrasted this mealy-mouth behavior against significant achievements I have initiated on my own, (well, one in particular) where I had 20 people answering to me, respecting and following my judgment.I was fearless, made decisions that affected international relationships and involved subtle “foreign manners” negotiations, and involved millions of dollars. The team I built up was so well trained I handed over the reigns when went to China for DD3 and today continues to thrive. </p>
<p>First, I learned through this rental car baloney and yesterday with my mother that I will NEVER be a doormat to either again and my sister and mother will be quite surprised at the lack of accommodating behavior on my part that will disappear when I see them soon/next.</p>
<p>But first, I must tell you the lowest of the low. Also while discussing the rental car, I (shudder to think of this now) I asked my sister in the email if she wanted to call our mother herself to tell her she’s coming to visit, or if she wanted me to tell her? Of course she replied, oh, tell her for me - she is too hard to talk to on the phone.</p>
<p>You don’t have to jump on me, because yesterday, when I wrote my sister the brief YOU WILL HAVE TO RENT A CAR PERIOD email it hit me like a thunderbolt how groveling and demeaning to myself my question about the phoning was,and It goes without saying, I should have written Here’s mom’s number. Call her and tell her you’re coming.</p>
<p>We don’t have to talk about stuff like this anymore. First, I will be angry for a week. Then I will be a different person. </p>
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<p>LasMa, this is easy to explain. A while back we walked about how my mother insisted on returning once to the house to identify each particular thing that she wanted to go to AL. Some people wrote Don’t let her go back! Cardinal Fang wrote what I felt, that it was kind to let her make one more trip to the house and select what she wanted herself. So I engaged a friend to help–gathered wine boxes and borrowed suitcases–and with the go-ahead of the SW, picked her up yesterday to do the job. THANK GOD I had the friend to be on hand, her handyman/best friend. (While he was upstairs I wrote him a thank you note, wrote him a worthy check, put them in an envelope, and placed it in his driver’s seat). So, senior management movers were not necessary/appropriate for this aspect of the move. </p>
<p>It was only partially a success, but very revealing. When I got to the NH to pick her up–I told the staff to have her READY at 1:15, she was far from ready and ignored me. As she is declining, I think of this much less personally and more like “this is old age.” She struggled for a long time to get her arm into a sweater and I made a big mistake. I should have asked permission to help her. But I’m used to dressing children for so long, I guess, I just reached down and tried to guide her hand/arm into her sleeve. “Get your hands off me! Stop manhandling me!” So that’s how we started. </p>
<p>We didn’t really test it, but it seems she can’t handle a walker. They gave me a wheelchair (and curiously, a copy of her DNR “in case you have to call an ambulance”) and it was hell/dangerous/nearly impossible to get her into the passenger seat. I certainly should have had an aide; they should have known. We’re on the road two minutes and she starts lashing into me, I forget what it was about/why. I turn on my book on CD, loud. She demanded turn that thing off! And the new me ignored her and we drove 40 minutes with the bk on CD playing. </p>
<p>Poor friend was waiting.Big effort to get mother into house . Mother sat in her wheelchair in the living room and kept saying what she wanted and immediately would change her mind. It was a farce. Unfortunately, friend filled boxes with dozens of framed family photos which I will have to undo because she will have nearly zero surface in the studio. Mother fell asleep and friend and I quickly had the obvious brainstorm to just do it ourselves, gathered , sheets, towels, a small amount of kitchen ware, etc. Mother wakes up and spends, I am not exaggerating, over an hour on the toilet. Periodically I scream (scream, not yell–she is too deaf to hear yelling) Are you alright? Do you need help? Leave me alone! I’m fine! Friend and I discuss what to do about the great Picture Gathering task. We pick out six works an add them to the pile of boxes we’ve accumulated in the garage. Its getting dark. INSIST SCREAMING that mother leave the bathroom and friend gets her into the car.In the car she says, I need socks, so I go back and get socks, meekly showing her what I selected. She SCREAMS at me I NEED WINTER SOCKS and tells me the weird hidden place they are. So I think and get heavy socks and add coat, scarf, hats, in a big black bag . We did nothing (o time) about packing day-to-day clothes but I will easily do it myself. Check the house, turn off the lights, check the bathroom, toilet and region soiled. Clean it all up. Throw up.</p>
<p>If only I had your read your advice posts about a meal. Pulled up right to the door of Dunkin Donuts and their doors are HEAVY. Scary/dangerous trouble getting mother into wheelchair and into store. Had to SCREAM every sandwich item to her. A dozen people standing behind us. She says, I’ll have a hamburger. I place her ham/cheese sandwich order tell server to bring it to the table, and go park the car. It took her an eternity to pick eat the sandwich the way a toddler eats, opening it, taking out scraps, drifting to sleep. I made three phone calls just to talk to people. Finally threw everything away, got the car to the door, and asked a man and his son to hold the door open for me. The man even helped me get my mother into the car. Called NH and said I am in front; send aids to help. Mother rushes straight to the bathroom and we don’t say goodbye.</p>
<p>Her second “nursing assessment” at the AL (the first expired after 30 days) is Wednesday, and she is so declined, I wonder if they will even assess her at ANY level as fit for AL. Now she needs help dressing , toileting, and needs a wheelchair. Tell me, will she qualify (at higher cost now ) for AL? Some of the questions on the application were about really feeble people, like, Can you feed yourself? (Are there people like her in AL, hidden away somewhere? Almost everyone I see at the ALs uses a walker (some are in wheelchairs.), Her “move in date” into AL is October 28. Is it possible? I guess I will find out on Wednesday, at the nursing assessment. </p>