Hello,

Messages | My Profile | Logout | Renew

• Health
• Money
• Leisure
• Make a Difference
• Family
• Online Community
• Membership

The first shock for Bonnie and David Heath was the call about David's mother's fall. But David's Dad, Larry, was ready and willing to be her caregiver. That New Normal lasted for almost two years. And then—Boomerang—Dad fell. Now neither Mom nor Dad could be of much help to each other. As so often happens, the responsibility shifts to the adult children, who are usually unprepared.
 
"The night we got the call from the paramedics about Larry, everything stopped," said their daughter-in-law, Bonnie. "He couldn't cook. He couldn't drive safely. He could no longer be the caregiver."
 

Bonnie and David were suddenly turned into full-fledged members of the "sandwich generation," those who are raising children while caring for a parent. David protested, as he had no time on weekdays. He left the house at 7:30 a.m. for a demanding job at Universal Studios in film editing, and he didn't get home until 12 hours later. On weekends, he was happy to take a half-day to pay his parent's bills and do financial planning. All the rest—getting his mother, Raylene, dressed and driven to the doctors and physical therapy, plus calming the tensions between her and her husband now that Larry felt robbed of his role as her caregiver—fell to Bonnie, the daughter-in-law. It turned her days into a series of 100-yard dashes.

"Being a substitute teacher, I'm up by 6 o'clock," Bonnie rattled off her schedule. "I have to make lunches for my kids. One son goes to school at 7 o' clock. I drive him. I come back. The next son has to be there by 8; I drop him off, I get to my school. I'm off by 3 o'clock. I have to go back to the high school, pick up my other son. I have just enough time to change out of my work clothes, put on my mom gear, and run out to pick up my mother-in-law, help her into the car, take her to physical therapy for an hour-and-a-half, or take Larry to one of his six doctors, and come home and say, 'Eh, what's for dinner?'"

Sound familiar?

Training Session
Bonnie reminded her husband that he had five siblings (five!) all living within an hour and a half of their parents. Why weren't they part of the circle of care?
 

Fortunately, the Heaths belong to the Motion Picture Television Fund, a nonprofit health-care provider in Los Angeles for members of the entertainment industry. Dr. Humayan, the head geriatrician at MPTF, strongly advised David to call together all his siblings for a family meeting. "A geriatric assessment really can't be complete without having the family be part of the care planning and the education," he said.

At the meeting, Bonnie emphasized the problem of transporting her mother-in-law to doctor's appointments and physical therapy. "I've been driving Raylene to five physical-therapy appointments a week, and most of those appointments are at 4 p.m.—I'm never able to be home to cook dinner for my family."
 
Raylene chimed in, "My problem is I need someone like Bonnie, who knows how to get me in and out of the car. I feel very, very secure with Bonnie, because she knows how to handle me."

David's brothers and sister were then able to excuse themselves by saying that Raylene didn't trust anyone else to move her. John said, "We come over to visit Mom, but she never wants to go out."

This gave David's sister, Mary, an opening to raise an issue nobody had wanted to talk about: Was Raylene depressed? It was decided that she should have a mental-health evaluation. But the immediate, practical issue was how to involve the rest of the family in driving Raylene where she needed to go.
 

David had a bright idea that is helpful for any caregiver. "If we can get everybody to come over and just do a rehearsal of transitioning mom in the car, from the wheelchair, then she can overcome that fear and gain that trust with everybody in the family, not one person in the family."

Bonnie added, "You have to see where your car comes to the curb, so when she backs up, she doesn't fall. It takes a lot of practice. And it changes depending on what kind of car you have."

Transferring anyone who is fearful of falling and unsteady on her feet is a major obstacle to defeating isolation and depression. Learning how to do it properly, however, offers an opportunity for physical intimacy and even a boost to your loved one's sense of mastery. It's like learning new dance steps. You hug them, turn them—there's a rhythm to it—you can count it out and perfect your style. You're a dance team!  Everyone will feel safe and effective and more independent, and Mom will want to go out.

Brother Bud stated the obvious, saying, "We have to get Raylene to allow this to happen."

The social worker, Jessica, asked the mother, "Raylene, if they have a training day, would you let another one of your children drive you?"

Reluctantly, Raylene agreed, saying, "I'd have to get used to it."

Ask for Help
Most important is that someone show the caregiver the right body mechanics, which involve using your legs instead of your back as you turn to move your loved one from wheelchair to car. While your loved one is still in the hospital, don't be afraid to ask a nurse or an aide to show you the procedure. If your loved one is already home, contact your local visiting-nurse services, home-health agency, or rehabilitation center, and ask someone there to put you in touch with a person who can train you to transfer your loved one safely. When you're being trained, it's important that you use the vehicle you'll be using to transport your mother.

There are devices that can help you transfer your loved one. One of those is a "sliding board," or "transfer board," which bridges the gap between two transfer points. The upper side of the board is slick, to allow the patient to slide easily. You put one end of the board under one hip and the other side on the seat of the car, then slide your loved one over to avoid having to lift most of the body weight. A sliding board works fine with most cars, but not with SUVs, which are too tall.