Loose ends
By MM on Friday 24 November 2006, 14:08 - Journal - Permalink
Before I report on the big meeting yesterday, which is very much a
future-oriented subject, I want to cover a few lingering present-oriented
subjects.
On Tuesday, dad and I had another discussion about money. He peeled open his wallet to show me how little he had: $55. I was surprised, since I had given him $100 on Saturday, and he hadn't been shopping, as far as I knew. However, I didn't bother to start an investigation into where the money had gone, as I was pretty certain nothing definite would come of it.
'Have you given any thought to what the minimum amount ought to be?' I asked, knowing that the last time I asked him this he had said $3.
'Oh, only about a thousand dollars.'
'Come off it, dad. You never used to carry that much cash around with you. I certainly don't. It's an invitation to robbery.'
'Oh, well. Just a bit, just enough to keep us going.'
It is not that he comes to a rational conclusion that he has insufficient cash. It is that he is accustomed to being financially independent and now realises that he sits at the bottom of a cash pipeline and has no control over the tap. His near-constant preoccupation with cash is a reaction against dependence.
A couple of minutes later I found a $50 note under the table. I handed it back to dad.
'You dropped this on the floor to make your wallet look empty and to convince me you were short of cash, didn't you?' I accused him jokingly.
'No, no, no,' he said.
'I've got to keep my eye on you. You'll try any trick in the book, you will.'
He laughed and protested his innocence. The 'extra' money (which was his anyway) was the perfect tonic, of course.
That evening, at Greg's, we talked about the telephone calls we all get from dad. In particular, we were trying to analyse the real meaning of the alarm calls that there was no food in the house, when there most obviously was. My take was that the call really said 'There's nothing on the table!' meaning there is nothing to sit down to eat, and perhaps someone ought to come over and feed us. Greg's modification to this was that it said 'There's nothing on TV!' meaning that mum and dad don't know what to do with themselves and think up the least implausible pretext for calling in the cavalry.
We are also contemplating dealing with purely commercial organisations to replace the social services.
Rachel has heard of a local commercial alternative to Meals on Wheels. While MOW are the best aspect of the social services, their food is pretty unvarying. Pumpkin is an almost daily feature. We will investigate using another service, possibly just at weekends at first, to vary the diet.
We are puzzled by the fact that the careworker will clean the house, but only when she considers it to have become unbearably dirty. Why leave it until then? If she is prepared to do such work, why not a little every week?
Just across the road from mum and dad live two adult twins who are friends of theirs and make a modest living by cleaning other people's houses. We may see if we can get them to help mum and dad in their house.
On Wednesday, Lana called me again to say that Gail, the careworker, had had trouble with mum, who had scratched her arm. Gail had withdrawn from the house. Lana had then called the day care centre to ask them to send dad home. She would discuss what to do in future with us the following day, but it seemed unlikely that she would be prepared to send a single person to look after mum any more. I don't know what happened at the house, but is this all really necessary? Do we need two people, just to keep mum company? Do we need a companion at all when they cannot develop any rapport with mum?
On Tuesday, dad and I had another discussion about money. He peeled open his wallet to show me how little he had: $55. I was surprised, since I had given him $100 on Saturday, and he hadn't been shopping, as far as I knew. However, I didn't bother to start an investigation into where the money had gone, as I was pretty certain nothing definite would come of it.
'Have you given any thought to what the minimum amount ought to be?' I asked, knowing that the last time I asked him this he had said $3.
'Oh, only about a thousand dollars.'
'Come off it, dad. You never used to carry that much cash around with you. I certainly don't. It's an invitation to robbery.'
'Oh, well. Just a bit, just enough to keep us going.'
It is not that he comes to a rational conclusion that he has insufficient cash. It is that he is accustomed to being financially independent and now realises that he sits at the bottom of a cash pipeline and has no control over the tap. His near-constant preoccupation with cash is a reaction against dependence.
A couple of minutes later I found a $50 note under the table. I handed it back to dad.
'You dropped this on the floor to make your wallet look empty and to convince me you were short of cash, didn't you?' I accused him jokingly.
'No, no, no,' he said.
'I've got to keep my eye on you. You'll try any trick in the book, you will.'
He laughed and protested his innocence. The 'extra' money (which was his anyway) was the perfect tonic, of course.
That evening, at Greg's, we talked about the telephone calls we all get from dad. In particular, we were trying to analyse the real meaning of the alarm calls that there was no food in the house, when there most obviously was. My take was that the call really said 'There's nothing on the table!' meaning there is nothing to sit down to eat, and perhaps someone ought to come over and feed us. Greg's modification to this was that it said 'There's nothing on TV!' meaning that mum and dad don't know what to do with themselves and think up the least implausible pretext for calling in the cavalry.
We are also contemplating dealing with purely commercial organisations to replace the social services.
Rachel has heard of a local commercial alternative to Meals on Wheels. While MOW are the best aspect of the social services, their food is pretty unvarying. Pumpkin is an almost daily feature. We will investigate using another service, possibly just at weekends at first, to vary the diet.
We are puzzled by the fact that the careworker will clean the house, but only when she considers it to have become unbearably dirty. Why leave it until then? If she is prepared to do such work, why not a little every week?
Just across the road from mum and dad live two adult twins who are friends of theirs and make a modest living by cleaning other people's houses. We may see if we can get them to help mum and dad in their house.
On Wednesday, Lana called me again to say that Gail, the careworker, had had trouble with mum, who had scratched her arm. Gail had withdrawn from the house. Lana had then called the day care centre to ask them to send dad home. She would discuss what to do in future with us the following day, but it seemed unlikely that she would be prepared to send a single person to look after mum any more. I don't know what happened at the house, but is this all really necessary? Do we need two people, just to keep mum company? Do we need a companion at all when they cannot develop any rapport with mum?
Comments
Wow, interesting questions, even the minor ones like, why doesn't the social services carer clean a little at a time rather than a lot at once; although I have an answer to that one. She's probably rather like me. I don't notice dirt and disorganization until I am forced to view it through someone else's eyes. Then, I get busy.
Anyway, the more I read of your minute analysis of your father's phone calls and your parents' unbridled anticipation of visits with their children, the more I am reminded that caregiving for anyone for any reason needs to imply emotional sustenance. In at least two Northern European cultures/societies with which I'm familiar (less so with the second, I admit), U.S. and Australian, it seems that, over all, this is the least supported necessity, thus the hardest to meet, as well as the last to be considered. It is also the most complicated and individuated.
Mike--I think the author of the book "Learning to Speak Alzheimer's"--which is about a therapy called "habituation"--regards these repeated questions and worries the way you and your family have. Concerns about money, losing things, going home, being robbed all symbolize the losses that can no longer be expressed--independence, context, security. My mother is chronically concerned with not having money in her wallet, even though she no longer goes anywhere without me. I think you're right--the cash means to them that they still can take care of things.