Who are the Grands?





They are 90 and 93, and they live each day like there is no tomorrow. Because there may not be. Their minds are not what they used to be and their bodies are breaking down bit by bit, but inside those old minds and bodies they are the same independent-minded young people that forged their own way in this world and made a good life for themselves. This is both a blessing and a challenge, as you'll see in the posts below. Welcome to our journey!


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Monday, March 24, 2014

The Grands will be Just Fine - When Caregivers Go on Vacation


Steve and I have had a trip planned to Tucson for months, but now that it's here I have a host of emotions about leaving the Grands for the week. They have been doing okay - not great, not terrible - and they have a wide safety net of people to help. But that didn't change the initial anxiety in me about being so far away. What if something happens while we're gone? I bought the trip insurance, but still. What if?

Everyone told me we need to go, I need to get away for a few days and not have the responsibilities always on my shoulders. But how do I let them go? How can I let go of the sweet faces that greet me when I open their door and smile? How do I let go when I know that little things happen all the time - they need something, Grandpa fell out of his chair, Grandma forgot to use her walker again and stumbled.

But God is good, and He gave me a wonderful team of people to be there for the Grands while I'm gone. Nita, my second mother, is there to stay with Lliam, and as an RN with a lifetime of experience in nursing I can't think of anyone better. She's undoubtedly better than me at coaching the Grands through the problems that occur. Then there is the staff at Bickford. Amazing people, amazing care. I couldn't possibly ask for more.

The best part of the Grands' care team is that Grandma and Grandpa know it, too. They did not have an ounce of anxiety about me leaving. They are so comfortable at Bickford and so confident in the care they receive that they were just fine. Flashback to nine months ago when I left for a few days, and it's a very different story. Grandma was extremely anxious when I left. She marked when I was coming back on her calendar, asking again and again what was going on. But not this time. That is a thrill for me, because it indicates to me that she knows that she has the help she needs. She feels secure and loved right where she's at. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!

So now I am sitting in sunny Arizona, the morning sun is already warm and inviting. My only responsibility now is to let go of the burden on my shoulders and relax. The Grands are going to be just fine while I'm gone.

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Victory!! The Grands Battle the Insurance Company and Win!


In 1990 the Grands purchased long-term care policies from a friend of theirs who worked for Union Bankers Insurance. The policies were for nursing home coverage because back then nursing homes were the only facilities that provided actual nursing care. Well, the evolution of nursing care has been vast and extensive, and today there are far more options available to seniors than institutionalized care at the glorified hospitals called nursing homes. Most companies, Union Bankers included, have broad enough definitions to cover assisted living facilities, too.

When the Grands moved into Bickford House last June, this was one of the first things I wanted to know from Union Bankers. The young woman I spoke with assured me that Union Bankers covered assisted living, too. Great! I scheduled a nurse to come out and assess the Grands for their insurance claim. Everything went swimmingly, and the nurse recommended that they needed care to the company. Great! I was told by a manager at Union Bankers that the Grands were approved for care. Great again!

Not so great. A week later I received another call from the same manager telling me that the facility did not qualify because it was not under the supervision of a doctor. Never mind that Bickford has a collaborative agreement with a nurse practitioner and that there is round-the-clock supervision by the RNs. Never mind that Union Bankers very loosely defines "doctor" in the contract as a "licensed healthcare practitioner" which could mean a nurse, nurse practitioner, or physician. Union Bankers had just decided on its own that Bickford didn't qualify.


I was shocked but I was also absolutely certain that this was not the end of the discussion. By this time, the Grands had been at Bickford for two months and were comfortable and getting settled. The manager callously informed me that I could move them to another facility. She suggested that I move them to a 'real' nursing home. So, I said, let me understand, you want them to give up their quality of life at Bickford and enter an institutionalized setting because of Union Banker's unjust assessment? I asked her if she had any idea what it was like to move elderly people, how difficult and psychologically traumatizing it was. She responded only by telling me that I would have to talk to the claims department.

This woman showed no humanity, no compassion, and no care. To her, these were just names on a piece of paper. How wrong, how wrong she was. The Grands are real people with real lives, real feelings, and real love in their hearts. These are my grandparents who raised me, gave me the only stability I ever knew, and loved me since the day I was born. My heart told me, how dare she treat them like names on a page? At the same time, my head told me that this was the way of the world.

That day I resolved that I would fight this company until the very end, until there was no fight left. That day began an eight month battle as I sent letters, made phone calls, sent more letters, resent letters that they "lost," followed up on phone calls, followed up again because they told they hadn't processed the appeal yet, followed up again and again and again. I quoted the policy to the company to show them that Bickford qualified. I involved the director of Bickford who made multiple phone calls and sent letters, too.

Finally, I was told no again and I filed a complaint with the Department of Insurance. Union Bankers persisted. They even gave the Department of Insurance the run-around. But that didn't last too long, because finally the Grands and I, the little fish in the big pond, had some muscle. If you are an insurance company, it's best not to mess with the Department of Insurance.


Still, more weeks passed. I felt like that little red fish, holding on for dear life and not knowing quite what the point was. I was feeling pretty despondent. Every day, Grandma asked about the insurance. Did you call them today?, she'd ask. Every single day.  I couldn't blame her - we were talking about a lot of money. Lots and lots of money that would really help them pay for their place. I knew how much it meant to all of us. I tried to be patient. I think I succeeded for the most part.

But I was tired, weary of the whole thing. This wasn't the only thing on my plate. I remained confident that we would win in the end, but I knew that it might last a lot longer. I knew that I might need to hire a lawyer and sue the company. I didn't want to do that, but I would if I had to. I had already talked to a lawyer here in town. I just wanted it to be over. I prayed, as I had prayed throughout this time. But this time I just it gave it up to God. I handed it all to Him. I knew that I was at the end of myself because I was just too weary. That was Wednesday.

Then, out of the blue, as these things always happen, I got the call. It was Friday afternoon. I answered the phone. At first, I had no idea who it was or what she wanted, but after a minute or so it became clear that this was a manager from the Grands' long-term care insurance company. It was the very same manager that had callously told me to put them in a nursing home. She was calling to inform me that the company had approved the Grands' claims. She repeated it several times in a tone of voice that said she couldn't believe it herself. She told me Union Bankers would start cutting the checks immediately. Immediately!!

Relief and joy and gratitude washed over me. Relief that I no longer bore the burden of this battle, joy that the Grands had experienced justice, and gratitude to God for all He has and is and will do for us. Woo hoo!!!

I went over to the Grands that night. I had them sit beside each other so I could tell them the amazing news! Grandma's jaw hit the ground and then she smiled. Then she laughed. She laughed and giggled in joy. Grandpa nodded his head and said, "Thank you, Lara. Thank you." Grandma sang "Thank you, God" and "Count your Blessings." The fight was over. And we won! We won!

Victory!!!! We did it! Grandma was once a Rosie the Riveter, so this seems appropriate:

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Why Caregivers Do What They Do


The last few weeks with the Grands have not been pretty. These weeks have been exhausting, depressing, irritating, and, well, you get the idea. I am at the point of caregiving where there is nothing left of me to give yet I keep giving. So I give from a space that I didn't know existed.

For the past few weeks, if it hasn't been one thing it has been another. Between Grandpa's symptoms and Grandma's dementia, I have had my hands very very full. It has brought me to the point where I cringe every time I think about all the things I have to do for them. Yet I am driven to continue to do these things by an insane hamster on a wheel inside my head. That hamster has been the only thing keeping me going, but some days I have been seriously considering having him assassinated.

Today, for instance, was a day when I had hoped to have some rest from the wearying tasks that are laid before me. But the hamster told me I had a job to do. I needed to make Grandpa some boxer shorts. Grandpa's waistline continues to expand because the toxins are building up in the spaces between his cells as his liver can no longer do its job properly. This symptom is called third spacing. It has caused Grandpa's waistline to go from a 40 to a 46 in four weeks while he loses weight everywhere else. His face is becoming more gaunt and his legs and arms are pencils, but his waist is ginormous.

There are no shorts big enough to fit him that can also be adjusted for his expanding midsection. So I went to the fabric store, picked out a pattern, found some material, bought the notions, and came home. And today I made him fully adjustable shorts.



I am proud to say that they are the perfect waist size, 46 inches, and they will expand out to 50 inches with the snaps I put on them. Even better, when we took them over to the Grands, they were thrilled. Grandpa said that he was going to show everyone his new shorts tomorrow (he was joking, of course). Steve said Grandpa might want to go to dinner in just his boxers tomorrow (hahaha).

But the proof will be in the pudding. I just hope they are easy for him to use and that they are comfortable. The snaps are snug so now I'm worried that he won't be able to get them undone. I'm worried that they won't fit him right. I only made him one pair just in case there's a problem.

But for now, for today, the Grands are thrilled that I made him that pair of shorts. Grandma was impressed with my handiwork. She may be blind in one eye so that she can't see all my mistakes, but it still means so much to me to hear her praise. Grandpa said he's going to get a special tag for them that say, "Made in America." Seeing them smile and knowing I've pleased them during this incredibly difficult time of their lives is the reason that hamster keeps on living.