Hospice arrives

Backtracking a month or so from my last entry (when Dennis got home from the hospital on Sunday November 14), we had an appointment at the ALS Clinic in late September. From that came the news that Dennis was "borderline hospice" and Doctor Lomen-Hoerth thought it would be a good idea to get signed up with hospice services, so that we could get to know some of the people that we would be working with in the coming months. She routinely had her patients sign up for services as soon as they were eligible, to establish rapport with the new caregivers.

We did an intake interview with a representative from Hospice By the Bay (I cannot remember her name). It was done at our dining room table, and at that time, Dennis was still walking with just his cane, though it was obvious to me that his walking had become more problematic than it had been in the recent past. During the intake, while running Dennis through some simple tests, he almost fell twice. After the second time, Susan (I have to call her something, right?) stated, "I'm ordering you a walker." Dennis responded, "I don't want a walker. They're for old people."

I looked at Dennis, then at Susan. "Thank you for saying that, Susan. I've been trying to convince him that his walking has become more unsteady and he needs more support than he can get from just his cane, but he's been very obstinate about it." Looking back at Dennis, I continued, "Dennis, we're trying to make sure that you remain as safe as possible. I'm sure the walker she's ordering is going to be a sturdy one, not like the flimsy one they had you try at General once. Let's just give it a try and see how it goes. Okay?"

Still pouting, Dennis replied, "I'll give it a try, but I know I'm not going to like it."

Later that same day, the doorbell rang. When I answered, a man was standing there with a walker and a clipboard with paperwork for me to sign. "This is for Dennis Healy. Do I have the right place?"

"Yes, I have a Dennis here. I'll sign for it. I'm surprised it got here so quickly. Thank you," I replied, signing on the dotted line.

I was pleasantly surprised at the sturdiness of the walker. It definitely was well-built. I carried it back to the living room; upon entering, I said, "Look dear, your walker is here. It's real sturdy, just like I figured it would be."

I will give him credit—he started using it immediately, albeit with grumpiness. Coming back into the living room from the bathroom, the wheels got caught on the living room area rug, and he almost fell, but I was able to jump up and grab him before he did. I decided at that point to remove the area rug. I managed to make it fit in the front computer room. I also rolled up the carpet runner we have in the kitchen, allowing freedom from having to worry about getting snagged again.

I was very hopeful that the walker would help, as between August 19th and October 1st, he had fallen eight separate times, and those are just the times I knew about. There could have been times when he fell while he was alone and he didn't bother to tell me.

After the intake interview, within the next 10 days, we met our primary nurse, Peter Mao. He came by and introduced himself and told us how to use the "comfort drugs" that had been delivered. We also met with June Jackson, the social worker who was in charge of coordinating services. The services they provided were a welcome relief for me, as it gave me access to professionals who could offer me advice when I needed it.