Tag Archives: caring for elderly parents

Being a Carer

As most of you know both my parents are nearly 80 – my Mum is physically disabled and an alcoholic and my Dad has learning difficulties and mild dementia.  They both really struggle with the modern world and are clueless when it comes to technology.

When they first got their cordless phone it took them forever to understand that they now had to press the green button to pick up a call and the red button to finish the call – they kept forgetting to press red then nobody could get through.  It also took ages for them to get used to using the phone book and speed dial, but now they love it because they can’t remember anyone’s phone numbers in any event (can any of us?!).

My Dad now also has a mobile phone on which he can make and receive calls although texting is beyond him, however at least he can ring 999 on it if needed and more importantly we can ring him to check he’s OK when he’s out and about.

I live 6 miles from my parents, but there’s currently masses of roadworks and diversions and I have to drive 9 miles to see them making an 18 mile round trip.  As you know, I was out all day yesterday plus have been feeling rubbish all week so today I’m exhausted but I always ring my parents every morning to check they’re OK…………..and this morning the phone rang and rang and rang and not only did no-one pick up the answer phone didn’t kick in.  Summat was up (as we say in the north).  I eventually got through on my Dad’s mobile, though, so at least knew they were both fine but there was clearly an issue with the landline.

So after I took Bertie out this afternoon I drove the 9 miles into town to discover the base wasn’t working on their cordless phone so neither of the handsets could make or receive a call.  I tried everything Google told me to do and eventually concluded the base had become faulty and would have to go back to Amazon (luckily it’s under warranty).  However, this left them without a landline, vital for Mum should Dad be out and have taken his mobile with him.

So I drove the 9 miles home, picked up an old corded landline phone I keep in case of power cuts, and drove the 9 miles back into town with it.  I plugged it in, rang my mobile on it to make sure it was working, showed mum how to use it and drove the 9 miles back home again.  By this time it was 4.30pm and, as I’m usually in bed by then, I was feeling pretty ropey.

I was just about to get into my pjs when my mobile rang – it was my Mum, using my Dad’s mobile to ring me to say that she’d tried to use the corded phone to ring me but it said ‘number not recognized’.  So I patiently, again, went through how to ring out on the corded phone (“don’t press any other buttons than the numbers” I tell her, “there’s no green or red buttons like on the other phone”).  I asked my Mum to try it again and ring me back.  Nothing.  So I rang the mobile back only to get a voice telling me the call could not be made.  So I tried ringing the landline, only of course it was engaged as my Mum was trying to ring me.  *sigh*.

Eventually Mum gave up trying to ring me so I could then ring her. “What’s happening?” I ask.
“The stupid bloody phone still won’t work” she replies testily and now your Dad’s mobile is saying “sim not recognized”.  I have no fucking clue what they’d done but were effectively now without a phone to ring the emergency services if needed.  I told her to put my Dad on the line, asked him to turn his mobile off and back on again, and he said he had but it still said “sim not recognized”.  FFS.  I couldn’t leave them like that all night, so in my slippers I bundle Bertie back in the car and drive the 9 mile back to town.

I tried ringing my mobile from the corded landline phone and it worked a treat.  I also called my home phone and it worked a treat.  “Well it wasn’t working when I did it!” my Mum shouted at me, obviously embarrassed that the phone was clearly fine she had just pressed something she shouldn’t.  So, using every ounce of patience I possess, I went through yet again how to dial out on the phone when what I actually wanted to say was “well if you weren’t bloody drunk all the time you might manage better!”

I then turned my Dad’s mobile off and back on again and it, too, was working perfectly.

I got back in the car and drove the 9 miles home.  I now feel too sick with tiredness to even contemplate eating my dinner and the much needed bath I was going to have has gone out the window as I no longer have the energy.

Things like this happen week in week out, month in month out, year in year out.  Caring for elderly and confused relatives isn’t just about hospital appointments or putting the bins out – it’s about the million and one little things which frazzle your nerves, test your patience and drain you of energy.  And it’s all doubly difficult when you’re ill yourself and have no-one caring for you.

Thank you for listening to my little rant – I have no-one else to tell y’see and it always helps the frustration to put it down on paper.  The shitty part is I know my Mum still can’t use the corded phone and neither could my Dad if needed, so basically it’s all been a great big waste of time and energy.  I’m off to order a replacement cordless phone with next day delivery on Amazon and to arrange to send the faulty one back.

 

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Weekly roundup

The first half of the week was dominated by The Curse.  My endo pain was excruciating, I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, had a 3 day migraine and felt bloody awful.  Despite all that, Tuesday night I’d committed to help out at the beginner’s photography class but as I sat there my entire body was tingling and I felt scarily light-headed.  My iron levels, I’m sure, are low again due to me not eating as well as I could with everything that’s gone on with my Mum in the past couple of months.  So on Weds I decided to take 2 sachets of Spatone iron water instead of the usual 1 and within 24 hours I did feel much better 🙂

While I was at the photography class my friend noticed one of the rear tail lights wasn’t working on my car, so on Friday I had to go to Halfords to get it replaced, which cost me £20!   For 2 tiddly little bulbs – daylight bloody robbery.

My parents live in a first floor apartment.   They have an intercom on their front door so that they can see and speak to anyone who arrives at the house, then can open the door remotely with a wireless fob.   Only the day my Mum arrived out of hospital the bloody intercom stopped working *sigh*.  What was needed was a new system, because the handset for the intercom was in the hall and my Mum can now barely get out of her chair so she really needs a handset next to her in the lounge.  No problem, you can get wireless systems these days that I could fit myself…………..which worked everywhere in the house except where my Mum sits in the lounge which was a black hole of interference.  FFS.  I had to send the first one I tried back, and the second one I tried back, so this aft I’m picking up a third one which guarantees to be interference free.  Please God can this one just bloody work?

My Dad takes the fob to open the door with him when he goes out, as he now sometimes struggles to remember the numbers for the doorpad.   This, of course, leaves my Mum with no way of opening the front door if she’s in the house on her own.  No problem,  I thought, I’ll just get a second fob from Yale.  I then spent an hour trying to pair it to the front door without success.  I spent 25 minutes on hold trying to get through to the Yale helpdesk, only to be told they couldn’t help me and I needed to speak to the technical team……who were busy.  A ticket was raised and after I explained it was for my disabled Mother they said they’d get back to me urgently.  A week passed and I heard nothing.  I then shamed them on Facebook and 3 people rang me in the space of an hour!  Apparently since we got our door several years ago the wireless receiver for the fob has changed, so they sent out a new receiver.  Which still didn’t work with the new fob.  I then spent another hour on the phone to Yale who told me to reset everything.  Only then the door wouldn’t work at all.  You couldn’t get in or out and it didn’t lock.  The customer service chap then gave up, said he hadn’t a clue how to fix it and left me to it, saying he’d ring me back on Monday with a solution, leaving my disabled, vulnerable and elderly parents all weekend with a front door which wouldn’t lock or open!!!  I worked out that the reason nothing worked is that we’d faffed on for so long the batteries had died and all was well after new ones were put in (how come I could figure this out and the technical chap from Yale couldn’t?!), but I’m still none the wiser on how to get a 2nd fob to work with the old lock.

Why does every goddamn thing end up being so stressful and exhausting?!  The reviews for the wireless intercom on Amazon were excellent – everyone else just plugged it in and it worked perfectly.  Not for me though, oh no, that would be far too easy :-/  Y’know, when the people around me helpfully suggest I “get more help” in dealing with my parents who the fuck do they think I’m going to employ to do stuff like this?  Or to trail into town because my Mum needs new slippers, only her feet are swollen so she doesn’t know if she needs a size 4 or a size 5, so I have to buy both, take them home, try them on her, then go back into town to return the pair that didn’t fit.  Or the fact that my Dad can’t even cope with deleting photos off his camera so that he can take the memory stick up to the Kodak shop to get printed off, so needed me to help.  Or the decorators who promised to paint my parents’ hall and stairs by the end of September but haven’t yet turned up and needed chasing.  They’re now coming on Weds this week, so muggings here has to go today and take all the pictures down, the shelf off the wall above the radiator and my Mum wants rid of the old Intercom and wires which involves me crawling about in the loft and just hoping I don’t get electrocuted.  I do wish the do-gooders, who have absolutely no clue what’s involved in looking after elderly parents, would shut the fuck up about me needing more help like it’s an achievable solution when it’s nothing of the kind.

Lovely people keep buying me stuff for birthdays and Christmas, only I’m not a ‘stuff’ kind’ve girl and have zero need for most of it.  So I now have several boxes of irrelevant, but brand new and beautiful, shite sitting in the corner of my bedroom.  I had planned on doing a couple of car boots in the summer to get rid,  only a combination of the weather, my own health and my Mum’s health put the kibosh on it.  However there was a table top sale in the next village on Saturday so I loaded up the car, unloaded it the other end, reloaded it 4 hours later and carried it all back into my bedroom, making a lousy £19 in the process.  This morning I’ve woken up with my back, elbows, wrists and knees on fire from all the lifting and I’m not entirely sure the pain is worth the piddling amount of cash I raised 😉

Apologies for such a grumpy roundup, but the truth is I feel grumpy (I think I’m still hormonal).  And tired.  And a bit fed up.  This week I’ve had zero time for myself or to do anything fun and I’m a girl who needs a bit of fun to keep my disposition happy.  I promise to try harder this week 🙂