Noah's Arc? Elder Care in the times of COVID-19

Let's start by saying that this is my opinion, and not that of my employer. :) Personal. And written pretty raw, and from the heart. 100% Zafira. There are tips and tricks that I consider best practices, but those are from experience :)

I keep hearing that we're in a unique time - where COVID gives us the opportunity to break our addiction to technology, build the younger generation's social and empathy skills, rethink what's important - but that's only true if we enact that behavioural change and start living with those values. I've been saying within my innermost circle for weeks - that this is our version of Noah's Arc. A fresh flood plane to build on, a fresh slate. I'll start with #gratitude for my best friend and partner. Who together, form the base of my support system every day.

Last week, I wrote about Parenting in the times of COVID-19. Thank you to so many for such awesome feedback, either on the post or privately. Another big piece for me is elder care. As an only child with a widowed parent, I'm all my dad has. Over the last 10 years, as he has experienced setbacks, I have spent as much energy and focus on advocating for stronger health supports for him as possible. Over time, I've increased how many appointments I attend with him, connected with doctors, caregivers, service providers. I get a lot of surprise from them that I'm not a medical professional. I've performed a significant part of that care myself. You see, my dad was living with me. If solo parenting is hard, solo care giving for an elder, a parent, is even more difficult. My dad? This is the person who used to take care of me. Carried me on his shoulders. Wiped my tears. Kept my secrets. Supported me without question. Fostered my fashionista. (he never hesitated to encourage "just one more pair" of shoes, or building a shoe closet!) Last year, after 3 months of hospitalization - we got a diagnosis I was unprepared for, and had no understanding of. That in itself devastated me. My dad is my hero.

I was freshly back to work after my parental leave when that diagnosis came through - a new, working mom, and forced to make a tough decision - bring dad home or consider a care home. It was a difficult piece to accept, the risk of falling, further injury and harm was too great. Devastated, I finally understood all the little things that hadn't made sense. As I packed up his things for his move, I saw signs of the illness in his intimate life - his writing, filing, laundry folding - you see, getting a diagnosis turned on many light bulbs.

Fast forward to COVID-19. Now we can't visit. He's in a care home and safe. That's the most important. There's no known cases of COVID-19 in the facility. But, he's put on some weight and wants to exercise more, maintain independence - and they are short staffed - limited time with a PT or Nurse to encourage that; and their Social Activities coordinator moved to another job. Not being able to visit or for him to go to mosque, exercise, get fresh air? Hugely accelerates the mood and overall health of someone in care. Last week, one day - he called me 25 times to talk about the lack of exercise and how HOT it is in there. How his clothes come back different colours (blue turns pink with bleach), or things are missing - and most importantly how if I just let him come home, he promises he will take care of himself. It was like an older version of my preschooler, and in tears I just listened. He is, after all, still my hero.

It's heartbreaking to hear and even more heartbreaking to tell him that I don't have the skills we need to take care of him at home. Dignity is important. Quality of Life is important. We are as resilient as life forces us to be. If I am strong -- He is stronger. Inside, he is still my dad, my hero. And while he's angry and frustrated, he is SAFE. I can be the bad guy, as long as I keep that in mind. The little one begs and pleads to go visit, and is so angry with us, that when we do reach dad via phone or video call, he refuses to talk. At night, every night though, he tugs his invisible string and cries to heaven that he misses his Bapa.

That's the sandwich generation. But there's more -

Two weeks ago, my FIL was rushed from home to small town ER to the interior. Our dads are 1 year and 1 day apart in age - and essentially the same person: Ornery, introverted, independent, sarcastic, loving & loyal to a fault. Lucky for my in-laws, I'm a medical advocate supreme, so when the information was conflicting and their huge, close knit family was clamoring for answers, I put on my daughter hat and filled the gap. The realization that we are 2 only children, 2 single parents, with 3 parents to take care of between the two of us hits close to home.

We're by no means neglectful, but we CAN'T go visit. Homes and hospitals aren't accepting home cooked food, care packages. Caregiving is a big job most days - doing that while balancing life in the times of COVID-19 and not knowing if the world will even remotely normalize, hoping, waiting - not knowing if you'll get to see the ill and isolated loved ones ever again breaks my heart a hundred times a day.

Reality of life right now in care homes? Physically Distant social dining, if allowed, at all, extra screening of packages, visitors (essential only), no doctors visits unless emergent.

What can we do?

1. Engage with technology - most care homes now can accept video calls for patients, if not, a phone call will work. We like to read stories, just "play" over a WhatsApp call, hang out, read stories, look at pictures. We also make sure to send Grandpa as many videos as we can - so Grandpa can watch them when he feels like.
2. Keep the conversation alive, so when we can visit, the kids aren't afraid of their elders. Teach our children what their grandparents would want them to learn.
3. Be the children our parents aspired for us to be. Fill those shoes. We CAN continue to advocate, be there, and listen. Those 25 phone calls from my dad - he wanted me to know that he was uncomfortable, lonely, and still there. Seniors Care was in crisis before COVID-19. Make sure your elder has a voice.
4. Don't let them want for things. They are not forgotten, or put out on an ice-flo to meet their maker as their days end. Are they short on q-tips? do they want a new fragrance of lotion? a fresh tooth brush? Even if they don't - think of things that might brighten their day. Double bag and use new packages. This way the packages can be sanitized. Don't try to sneak in packages that aren't allowed or bend the rules.
5. Find creative ways to connect. We coloured hearts and rainbows outside our house - but we also visited my dad's home and coloured while he watched last long weekend. The staff was in tears and later, dad told me he had visited the window every day to show his co-residents what his family did for them. We showed them that they matter. Soon, we'll visit and refresh the colouring. You can too.
6. Encourage family and friends to call, send video messages, or write. The more micro-contacts, the less isolated the elders will feel.
7. Adopt someone else's grandparent - If your elders aren't nearby, connect with someone in a home that may not have family - drop off a card, a picture, a wish.
8. Don't complain that you can't visit. Let's keep the virus OUT of those care homes that aren't affected.
9. Thank the care home staff. Don't drop off baked goods or things to share. Do drop off a card, a promise of baked goods, store wrapped items like chocolate bars or individually wrapped Candy in an outer bag that can be shared. These are the people who CAN hug your family, sneak them an extra apple, or adjust the menu to include a favourite food when you can't.

Build a bridge of love with an elder in your community. Even if not your own, we can get through this together if we reach out to others. Let's remember the values that are important and use this fresh start to be better. Not just survive Noah's Arc, but thrive.

Be safe & Well. Miss you dad.