Dementia and Doctor Appointments 

In previous posts I have mentioned how difficult it is to parent a parent. This flipflop in roles is front row and center when it comes to taking my mom to her doctor’s appointments.

Like a child

Mom hasn’t driven for many years, but also my sister or I’s presence at appointments is necessary to not only give the correct past and current medical history, but any instructions given regarding care or medications Mom would not be able to retain. 

As a mother, I remember taking my children to their yearly check-ups when they were young. They never wanted to go, and would often whine when they were told they had an appointment. Well, my mother is no different! Gracious she complains whole-heartedly every single time. When Mom lived in independent living, prepping for a doctor’s appointment was never fun. 

Texts with Mom:

Me: “Good morning Mom! You have a dentist appt today.”
Mom: “Does make me happy”
             “Not make me happy”
Me: “Well I want to make sure your teeth don’t fall out of your head”

Mom: “Call that I have a dr apt tomorrow at 3! I do not want to go!”
Me: “It’s here on campus. I’m going to take you”
Mom: frowning face emoji 

She would try her best to get out of the appointment, and when that didn’t work she would pout. Like a two year old. I never wanted to tell her too early that she had an appointment because then the complaining would start. I figured I’d save us both the annoyance. But I also had to give her enough time to get dressed and be ready. 

So much planning

I had to take off work so I tried to make these appointments as efficient as possible. Mom being dressed and ready to go was key. So I would start texting her the morning of her appointment in hopes that I could verbally cue her enough so that she could be dressed when I came to pick her up. Sometimes this worked, sometimes it didn’t. Getting her from her apartment to the appointment was another task that became progressively difficult (as discussed in the posts Rollators, Transport Chairs and Shower Chairs Oh My!).

Roles

Once we got to the doctor, my biggest hope was that Mom behaved. Truly BEHAVED. Just like I used to hope for my kids when they were little. There were many times where she would complain (loudly) in the waiting room, or say something embarrassing. And when we finally got into the examination room her blanket answer when the doctor asked how she was doing was always, “I’m great! I’m as healthy a horse!” 

Nevermind we were there after a recent mini-stroke and hospital admit. Or a new diagnosis of atrial fibrillation. Or a severe bout of diarrhea. Mom didn’t remember anything bad that may or may not have been going on and therefore as far as she was concerned, everything was just dandy. I would have to speak up and relay her current issues (if there were any). She would often look to me when the nurse or doctor would ask a question. Again, I was like the mother and she like the young child looking to their mom for help.

Always difficult

These appointments were always an ordeal. After I got my home, I was exhausted emotionally and physically. She was too. My sister and I took turns taking her to appointments and we texted each other throughout for support. Sometimes we would even go together to make the whole thing less difficult. But regardless Mom didn’t make it easy and she fussed the whole time.

Now that Mom is in memory care, her primary doctor comes to her room in the neighborhood for appointments. This has helped tremendously. We still have other appointments off campus though and I’d like to think we are more prepared now for whatever Mom is going to throw our way. Just like with my second child as compared to my first, as time has passed I can handle Mom, the prep and the aftermath with a little more grace. But make no mistake, she still protests just as much as ever.