February 2012
I recently had a medical appointment at
Clovis Community Hospital. I'd been there
before for this procedure, so I knew where I
was going. Or so I thought.
As I got off the freeway, I made a wrong
turn. For the next half-an-hour, I drove in
circles in increasingly unfamiliar turf.
Suddenly, I realized that I was starting to go
up into the foothills. I panicked, but
somehow, my diminished brain was finally able to re-orient me, and
I eventually made it to my appointment.
The following week, I got up on Wednesday morning and began
following my usual routine. As I started puttering around getting
ready for work, I had this nagging feeling that I was forgetting
something. It bothered me more and more, until finally, I consulted
my calendar. I had only one thing written on it: the name of the
friend I was supposed to pick up for breakfast. I called him,
apologized, and sheepishly came an hour late to get him.
When Mike McGarvin forgets a meal, things are getting serious.
It makes me think that my senility is almost complete.
Rationally, I know that forgetfulness comes naturally as we age.
However, it is shocking when it happens so often. Even though it
troubles me somewhat, I realize that I still have my faculties. It's
just that they are a little tattered and worn out.
My mother-in-law has had Alzheimer's for a number of years.
She is in a dementia care facility, but attended to daily by Mary and
my sisters-in-law. A good friend's mother also has advanced
Alzheimer's, and the burden of the care fell on him after his father
died. She is also in a residential facility, where her needs are met
twenty-four hours a day.
The condition of these two mothers is tragic, but the tragedy is
mitigated somewhat by the fact that they are provided for and have
loving relatives who take an active role in their care. Because I'm
close to both of these situations, I'm very much aware of what an
enormous task it is to be a caregiver for someone with dementia and
declining physical health.
These two situations create such a contrast to what I see on the
streets around here. At Poverello, we have elderly people mentally
incapacitated both by years of drinking or drug use, as well as those
who have dementia stemming from other causes.
The bottom line is that if you're old, your health is declining,
and you've lost the reasoning abilities necessary to take care of
yourself, you'd better have some family members who are willing to
step up to the plate and help you out. If you don't, Poverello House
is where you will find yourself.
Government assistance is no substitute for loving caregivers.
I've met a few heroic government caseworkers who had the
unenviable task of trying to help some of our homeless dementia
clients. It was a thankless job, but also fairly futile. There was only
so much they could do. Ultimately, their clients would wind up back
on the streets in spite of the caseworkers' best efforts. They didn't
have the same authority as a family member to make vital decisions
about the dementia patient.
One of the sad realities of our modern world is that many
families no longer stand in the breach for the elderly. The families
themselves often can't afford to help, or sometimes they simply think
it's not their responsibility. Widespread family dissolution also adds
to the problem.
For whatever the reason, these elderly poor end their years
alone and eating at Poverello House. I love old
people, probably because I had such a good
relationship with my grandmother. I wish we could do
more. As always, we do what we can, which helps;
it's just very frustrating that we can't solve the
problem in a big way.
Mike McGarvin, Founder/ Fellowship Director
info@poverellohouse.org