“How would you like to move to Florida?” I ask my 93-year-old mother over the phone. Again. Mom has dementia, and lives in a memory care center in Los Angeles.
“And be closer to you?” she asks. “I would like that, but I have to check with the family.”
That’s Mom. Family first. Problem is she forgets she doesn’t have much family left there.
“Well you think about it,” I say, but the moving machine was in motion.
In fact, as you read this, if all has gone according to plan, I will have packed up Mom, rolled her and her oxygen equipment via wheelchair onto a one-way flight to Orlando, and transported her into her new home, an assisted-living facility with memory care near me.
Then I will sit down on a curb somewhere and have a stiff drink.
This milestone will cap a plan born two months ago when I visited Mom in the care center where she’s spent (I can’t really say “lived”) the last three years. That day I left her with a kiss and a promise: I would be back as soon as I could.
And I meant it, though I honestly didn’t know when I’d next make the 3,000-mile trip from Florida. And that bothered me. My heart ached.
A few days later, while brushing my teeth, the thought hit me like one of those cartoon moments in Batman. Bam! Pow! I will move Mom here! Just because she’s lived in California since she married Dad in 1948, doesn’t mean she can’t leave.
I calculated the hurdles. I’d need my brother, my only sibling, to agree this was a good idea. I’d need to enlist the staff at her current residence to help, which would take some coaxing. I would need Mom, who’s easily confused, to cooperate. I would need to figure out how to get her airline-approved oxygen equipment. I would need to find her a new wonderful home, a pretty place, with caring well-trained staff, a good track record, tasty food, beautiful gardens, activities and happy residents. That’s all. And I wanted that by Christmas.
I became a woman possessed. Suddenly, I needed Mom here as badly as I needed my next breath. Those who know me well know this: When I want something, I am as determined as a terrier, relentless as a prosecutor, focused as a laser beam.
With Mom close, I could visit her a few times a week, drop in for coffee. Fix her hair. Look at old photos with her. Bring her to my home where I could serve her lunch on her wedding china.
I floated the idea by my brother. He agreed that the hassle of uprooting and moving Mom would be well-worth the long-term benefits of frequent visits. I gave notice to her current care center and asked them to start the transfer process. I kept Mom in the loop.
“How would you like to move to Florida?” I ask her again, hoping that if I keep bringing it up, the move won’t come as a shock, though it will.
“Florida,” she says. “That sounds nice. I could use a change.”
“Well,” I say, “you’re going to have one.”
The hunt for assisted-living facilities is, let me just say, about as much fun as used-car shopping. Fortunately, I stumbled on A Place for Mom, a free, nationwide service that helps families find senior living options. My senior living adviser, Laura Skender, became my personal angel, and helped me find, well, a place for Mom. Here’s what I learned about this kind of home shopping:
Read the reviews. Before you visit any facility, investigate them online. Go beyond the facility’s website. Read online reviews and check government agencies for reports of inspections, violations and citations. The information is public. I ruled out several facilities for serious violations I wouldn’t have otherwise known about.
Get an advocate. Working with a senior living advisor was a great move. Skender narrowed my search, sent me a list of potential communities, fielded questions and set up tours. She knew which places had openings and what they charged. (Information not available on the website.) She also knew what licenses to look for based on the care Mom needed. She saved me hours of wasted time.
Visit. Once you get a short list of communities that fit your criteria, tour them. Get a sense of whether the place is clean, attractive and inviting. Look at both common areas and rooms. Try to picture whether your parent would fit into the culture. Check out the activity schedule, outings and religious services.
Follow your nose. If the place smells sour or like urine, be concerned. If the odor is isolated, it’s likely related to one incident. But if the place smells bad throughout, cross it off your list.
Staff check. You can expect the tour guide to be warm and friendly, but note how staff members interact with residents. Do they listen, make eye contact, and show kindness, patience and respect?
Price check. Find out what the room cost covers, what is extra, how often rates increase and historically by how much, and how costs could increase as care needs go up.
Eat there. Most communities boast about their food, but there’s only one way to find out.
Look down the road. Find out under what circumstances your loved one might have to leave. I wanted a place that could care for Mom through the end of her life. The place I will have moved Mom to by the time you read this can.
Welcome to Florida, Mom.
Contact Marni Jameson via www.marnijameson.com.
