I've been fighting myself all day about writing this post. It's hard to share some things that are so personal and private and I don't want to shame my dad in any way (although he has nothing to be ashamed about). Maybe I shouldn't write anything, but then I wouldn't be sharing the whole journey: the not-so-good, the bad and the ugly. Today was an ugly. It was the kind of day any caregiver would dread and I was fuming for the better part of the day.
It started when I stopped by my dad's to drop something off for my Aunt, who watches my mom on Friday mornings. My dad was supposed to be gone, but his truck was parked almost midway down the driveway with his front end hanging a couple feet into the street, which I thought was odd. I walked up to the porch and noticed a white car parked across the street that I didn't recognize. As the kids and I reached the doorstep, I pulled my house keys out and went to unlock the deadbolt only to discover that the screen door (which is always kept locked to prevent mom from running out) was not only unlocked, but cracked open. Strange, I thought. In a quick instant I wondered if something was going on and when I opened the door I walked in to find two women, standing in the living room and talking to my dad, who was sitting on the couch. One of the women was holding a clipboard and after only a few seconds of listening to the conversation, I knew they were talking about my mom.
I looked over to my Aunt Claudia, who was also sitting on the couch, and gave her a questioning look, wondering what this was all about. She mouthed the words "social workers" to me. Weird, I thought, crinkling my nose. I left the room, while they continued talking, to check on my mom in her bedroom. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in there. When I returned to the living room, the social workers were finishing up their visit and said good-bye to my dad. As soon as they left, I turned to my dad.
"What was that all about?" I asked him.
"Well, it seems somebody called Adult Protective Services on me," he said, matter-of-factly.
My jaw dropped and I couldn't even find words to respond. It made no sense. Who would do such a thing? Why would someone call and cause trouble for my dad? And most of all, what could they possibly have reported??
When I finally found my voice to ask my dad these questions, he replied that the social workers were not allowed to tell who made the call or why. All they could tell him was that *someone* called because they were "concerned" about his wife.
The social workers checked in on my mom and talked to my dad, who had nothing to hide. He answered each question honestly and opened up about some of the struggles we've faced. They talked to him about the option of putting my mom in a facility; my dad told them it was out of the question. In the end, I think they were satisfied with all of my dad's answers and could see that he is doing his best to take care of his wife; they didn't say anything about a follow up but I don't really know what the procedure for that sort of thing is (if they would tell him or not) but I fear this has opened a door to social workers now breathing down our necks and watching our every move.
Let me just tell you how I felt when he shared this information with me. You know what they say about Mother Bear Claws? It was something similar to that. How dare somebody call Adult Protective Services on my dad!! My dad loves my mom more than we even know. I can see it in his everyday actions for her; working hard to find a way to keep her at home where she is comfortable, keeping her happy with her pb&j sandwiches and "slim fast" and Bath & Body Works; buying her endless supplies of make-up and following after her on her walks; disabling hot wires of her blow dryer just so that he doesn't have to take the blow dryer away from her completely (she loves that blow dryer!); switching out her non fat milk to almond milk in an effort to get her something more nutritious and easier on her stomach (talk about a pain in the neck!)...these are just a few of the great lengths that my dad goes to for my mom to see that she is safe and happy. If my dad didn't love and care about my mom so dang much, he would've put her in a home a long time ago. None of us are perfect and this is a hard, untraveled road that we find ourselves going down. Mistakes may be made, but make no mistake about her well-being; mom is getting the best care possible at this time. At the end of the day, people may disagree with the way we deal with things, but it is nobody's business!!
I've spent most of the day stewing over this issue. I can't figure out who would do such a thing. I would hate to think it could be any of our caregivers or family members. Most of the immediate neighbors know my parents. If there was any concern, why would somebody think they need to address it with Adult Protective Services? I've tried to think that maybe it really was out of concern for my mom but let's face it, calling APS is a chicken move! If there's any concern, they could have talked to my dad. Instead, this person has added even more stress into my dad's life because now, whether he realizes it or not, APS is going to be checking in on him, watching for any and every little mistake; this is what worries me the most. Until someone has had to care for their loved one with dementia, they don't understand it-not social workers, not therapists, not doctors. The last thing a caregiver needs is someone breathing down their neck and feeling that they aren't doing a good enough job.
So, for the person who called APS and to everyone else reading this post, let me say it loud and clear: MY DAD IS DOING A GREAT JOB CARING FOR MY MOM!! I admire him greatly and have learned many lessons of love from him. There's nowhere else that my mom could be where she would be better taken care of or loved more than with my dad. So...if anyone has a problem, either brave up and bring your concerns to my dad, or go away!