My parents (91 and 88) are in a retirement home together, and of course with the Covid-19 regulations, I am unable to be with them at all. My only sibling lives across the country so hasn't been here for over a year. The closest I can get is a visit through a window on the ground floor now and then. On top of that, Dad was diagnosed last year with dementia and mom has just been diagnosed with advanced cancer. I call several times a day and when I drop off essentials and see them through the glass of the double front doors, the fear in their eyes is terrifying. They look like they want to claw their way out to me. The reality is that with their continuing health issues and the threat of Covid, every day could be the last. I don't feel guilt, for I know they are where they need to be and are looked after well. I just feel helpless and frustrated and so very, very sad. They are slipping and when they most need care and hugs, I can't be there. Technology is a help but their ability to handle it is limited. We struggle through, but it is very tough.
After the lockdown I did window visits and exchanged videos with the staff but it was heartbreaking not to be able to see him and interact. He still knew me sometimes or thought I was his brother or a workmate at times but I was a comforting and familiar presence for him.
It was a relief when he passed peacefully. He was on hospice and they made sure I could be with him the last couple of days.
I’m surprised how much I miss him now. I use some of his tools in my shop. I catch myself just standing and looking at the wrench in my hand and thinking about dad. Have to shake it off, get back to work.
It was so much of my life for years, looking after my mom and dad. I’m glad it’s over now but I’m grieving in bits and pieces.
I know how you feel. You’ve got some tough times ahead. My best wishes to you.
Anyone that is dealing with a sick person(mental decline or otherwise), deals with anticipatory grief for many years prior to their loved ones passing. It's almost like we are in a constant state of grief, even though we don't always realize that's what it is, or dare to call it such.
I had experienced anticipatory grief for many years, as my husband who had a massive stroke in 1996, a year and a half after we were married, and slowly over the years just continued to decline, until he became completely bedridden in our home for the last 22 months of his life. I honestly didn't know how I would react when he died in Sept. of this year, as I had been grieving for so long, but soon learned that anticipatory grief and actual grief, are 2 different things. It hits you like a ton of bricks, as there is finality in the grief of death, when you know your loved one is never coming back, compared to the slow grieving you do over the years with anticipatory grief. They're both hard, don't get me wrong, but I have to say from experience now, that the grief from death is much harder to deal with. I know that in time it will get easier, and I'm grateful to have gotten through my first Thanksgiving, his birthday, and Christmas without him, to get those "firsts" behind me. And though I did shed tears on those days, I also had moments of joy, which I am forever grateful to God for.
My prayer for you is that soon, very soon you will be able to give both your parents the biggest hugs ever. God bless you.
I read somewhere that losing our parents feels like the roots have been ripped out from under us. To me, that feels accurate. Like a bandaid being pulled off very slowly.
Thanks to Covid, there are millions like me, I know. There is also something weirdly lonely about this. Thanks for reaching out. I appreciate it.
It is heartbreaking to watch loved ones decline.
Add Covid to the mix and it becomes even more complicated.
I hope this will be taken in the spirit it is meant.
My mom was ready to die years ago.
So, while I think it’s normal to grieve, it is also normal to be relieved that they are out of pain.
My mom’s quality of life has deteriorated horribly.
Nothing would please her more than to join my father in heaven.
My heart goes out to you and the many, many others who are going through the same thing. It doesn't seem fair for our elderly loved ones to be alone, fearful and unable to have the hugs, kisses or touch of a loved ones hands at the time it is needed the most. If anything, I am thankful that your parents have each other.
I lost my dad in 2004 so I'm so glad he didn't have to go through this horrible pandemic. But, my mom who will be 96 next month and has Alzheimer's is alone. I hadn't seen her since I took her out to lunch on Feb. 28th. Then the day of the lockdown on March 13th I had to cancel an outpatient appointment for her to get an injection shot to help with arthritic hip pain. I couldn't do window visits because her AL apartment was in the inner corridors and COVID was running rampant in the facility. Even though we bought her an iPad so we could keep an "eye" on her and would know if something was wrong by the way she looked. At the time she was at her worst, she couldn't even answer the device and she struggled with the technology as well.
April 22nd, I got the call from an outside RN from a mobile doctor's staff saying she was near death from severe dehydration and COVID. My husband and I drove down to the facility so we could at least see her as they loaded her into the ambulance but, because the facility had so much publicity from every local news station (the news crew was already setting up when we arrived and I parked out of view). I approached the cameraman and said they would be taking my mom to the hospital which was right around the corner and I didn't want them filming her. Turned out not only did they not get to see her but, we didn't either. They snuck her out through the back. My husband and I waited 2 1/2 hours outside the facility for nothing. I knew she'd think we abandoned her and wouldn't know what was going on. Thankfully, the hospital staff were wonderful. I talked to nurses, doctors, social workers and a chaplain. Upon further tests she had bi-lateral pneumonia as well as a severe UTI. They were able to pass around an iPad to patients who had families and twice we got to talk to her via Facetime. I told her I knew she was there because I had her sent there. I reassured her that I was in contact daily with the staff but, I was taken aback by the full black gas masks they were wearing as if in a war zone.
After being released from the hospital and 3 weeks in rehab, there was about 3 times I though it was the end and the anticipatory grief kicked in. I notified her siblings and said if they had anything they needed to say to her, that now was the time. Then I called the mortuary and they sent me preliminary paperwork so I could get a head start. I talked to the cemetery where she has a plot with my dad and I moved her to a new facility in their MC wing on the first floor with two windows. As soon as she arrived, she began hospice care. She went from a completely mobile person to someone who was bedridden and could no longer walk, lost 30 lbs since February/March. I've been doing mainly window visits, blow kisses, give the thumbs up sign when I'm leaving. She likes it there and now they are taking her to activities which she would never do before.
I grieved many times thinking she would die in the hospital. I'm her only child and other than my husband there is no other family that lives in our state. She does have 5 remaining siblings ranging in age from 76 - 90 but, they aren't involved in her care.
She was released from hospice care Dec. 18th because she had gained 10 lbs.
Five days later 9-1-1 was called because they found her unresponsive. It was the first time I was allowed to be by her side, give her a couple hugs, mask to mask kiss and held her hands.
She's back at her MC apartment and we saw her both on Christmas Eve/Day.
It truly is and has been a rollercoaster ride.
You will be in my thoughts and prayers as you face the same uncertainties on this ride!
They should be able to be visited at least once a week.
One thing I forgot to mention in my post down below is back in 2004 when my dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer, I had never lost a parent so I never even heard of "anticipatory grief."
The hospice case manager thought he would live to see one more Christmas; it was mid-August at the time. I was going to my parent's house six days a week to help out. Two days before I was going over there, I found myself sitting on the couch just crying. I couldn't figure out what was wrong because he was still alive. I was so puzzled that I called the hospice chaplain and told him I couldn't stop crying - what is happening to me? That's when he explained I was experiencing "anticipatory grief."
It shook me up and that morning when I arrived, he was quite alert (rallying) and said what would be his last "hi (my name)." He never spoke again but, instead slept from that point on. I decided to start spending the night and hospice was able to give 24/7 hour care until he passed away two days later. It's as if I knew since the morning I cried for what seemed to be no apparent reason. When the hospice nurse called the case manager that morning telling her she didn't think my dad would make it through her shift, the case manager actually came over on her day off and I could see the look of shock on her face. Even she couldn't believe he went that fast - instead of four months, he passed away in three weeks.
We just never know how and when things are going to end.
Every day brings new challenges and victories for us all. Good days and bad days. I am working on self care a bit more now and treasuring every exchange I have with them. There is even humour in it all if I look hard enough. (Like when Dad is trying to FaceTime, chatting away, and all I see is the top of his head).
Wishing you strength in all of your own struggles.