The doctor, social worker and care manager affiliated with the military hospital where my parents showed up at the ER and seemed confused have called a meeting with my parents and asked that they bring me along.
My mom obviously does not want me along on this appointment, but my dad told her he felt it was important they do what the doctor has asked. When I step back and consider their actions, I recognize the pull of loyalty and self-preservation mixed with the awareness that something is not quite right.
My sister has flown into town and will be here to shore me up and present a united front. I think it’s also hard for her to process how much my parents have changed since her visit just a month ago.
There is a common expression that many Americans use that the “wheels on the cart are wobbly” to express the sentiment that something is not functioning at its prime and will most likely just stop working. The wobbly wheel puts a strain on the other wheels until they are all wobbling. Eventually, one wheel just falls off and all forward movement halts. I feel like I’m watching all four wheels wobble and I’m wondering which one is going to fall off the cart first.
I hope this appointment will allow us to tighten the lug nuts on the wheels or maybe add in two extra wheels to take the pressure off the four that are obviously very tired and strained.
While I’m reluctant to believe my parents will listen to this third doctor, the effort by the medical community is heartening. They will present my parents with a medical team that is interested in working with them to enhance their quality of life. Anticipated.
Sending you positive thoughts for the appointment tomorrow.
Kay, your analogy is very apt. Perhaps they need to be fitted for training wheels like when we all learned to ride our first two-wheelers. Seems like dementia almost reverts the mind back to that of a child, but painfully they are not capable of learning new things, so it seems. Perhaps we will be surprised. (Not holding out hope)
e.