Dr. O Weighs In
I wrote to Dr. O regarding mom’s fall, the communication fails at the community, and to ask if it was time for a wheelchair. He replied that he’d received a fax about the fall. I asked him to send me the latest news releases, as he was in the loop, while I was not. Slightly tongue-in-cheek. We understand each other’s humor.
Dr. O thinks it’s time for Elvis to go. This crushes my heart, and he’s right. Mom can’t remember, much less understand her own limitations. Even if full-time pet care were affordable, she’d forget that she doesn’t have to reach down to pick up his dishes, and would fall again. And again, and again. I am not convinced removing Elvis from her environment will stop the falls. In this moment it feels like chasing an uncatchable solution to my mother’s orthopedic and cognitive trajectory. It’s no one’s fault. It’s just very, very sad, stressful, and strums all of my anxiety notes.
I had a text conversation with my nurse kiddo, who gave me advice on how to remove Elvis. Then I came up with a plan. It goes like this:
- I pick him up the evening before a ‘routine vet appointment.’
- I’ll ask mom if I can borrow his litter box.
- We let mom know Elvis needs minor surgery for something yet to be determined, but it can’t be scheduled for a few days. He can have a sleep-over. We string this out.
- After his surgery he needs a couple of days’ recovery at the vet.
- After that, he needs a number of days’ recovery with us, which is strung out indefinitely.
Meanwhile, I’ll very slowly remove kitty things from her apartment.
We have always known that Elvis would join our household. I assumed it would be when mom passed. It never occurred to me we would have to take him away from her for her own safety. 😿
Dr. O let me know that when PT assesses mom, Medicare will cover the cost of a wheelchair, which he thinks she’s ready for.
This feels like it’s happening abruptly, though not unexpectedly. As Dr. O said, “Things are OK until they’re not.” I’m on board in realtime, and flagging emotionally.