[TIMELINE: AUGUST–SEPTEMBER 2019]
As my sister adapted to life in her new assisted living apartment, we were happy to observe in action a few of the different amenities the facility had to offer, such as the main dining room. That set-up worked out very well for Peggy. Meals were served three times a day with assigned seating, which increased the chances that Peggy would remember the names of her table-mates, at least for a while. I really liked that.
Sometimes when I’d have breakfast with Peggy, I’d sit with her at her table (if one of her regular table-mates wasn’t there) or we’d go sit at an empty table if there wasn’t room for me. The food options were pretty good, I’m happy to say. Still, I made sure she had some favorite snacks in her room. Our brother Les helped with that too, making her some keto-friendly chocolate bites. I felt very good about her new arrangement and I wanted her to feel the same.
In the first couple of months after my sister’s move, I went back and forth to our parents’ house a few times to make sure I hadn’t missed any of her possessions. I actually had missed a few things—like 45 more bottles of wine. We ended up bringing some to Peggy (not that she could drink any of it) and divided the rest between family members. Having a lot of wine sitting around is one of the perils of living not all that far away from wine country.
For years, driving to Napa or Sonoma for a weekend of wine tasting was always a fun treat for my partner Jon and me. It was not uncommon for us to spend a whole weekend in the area, trying different vintages at different wineries and touring the beautiful grounds. It was also something Peggy enjoyed before her diagnosis. Peggy always had the best taste in wines, no question, so displaying some of her collection at the facility seemed like the right thing to do.
Also around this time, I brought Peggy in to her bank—where, thanks to a perk of her former city job she had a long-term relationship with a personal investment advisor. Since I had already obtained a durable power of attorney (DPOA) earlier in the year, meeting the financial professionals in her life was the next step in setting things up to care for her.
My primary goal was for her advisor, Josh, to get to know me, and to see that Peggy and I had a good relationship and that I had her best interests at heart. We went over all of Peggy’s financial matters that day, including filing the DPOA with the bank, although I did not become a signer on her accounts or safe deposit box until a couple of months later.
Josh was great to work with. He understood the situation completely right from the start. He could tell that Peggy had declined since he had last seen her (maybe six months prior), but it was still a fine meeting. Both Peggy and I were in good moods that day. I kept everything low-key, and I made sure to let her drive the conversation. Afterwards, we went out to eat at a beloved local lunch spot, and then took a nice walk in the big park adjacent to her assisted living facility.
Keeping the mood light and social whenever possible was, I think, key to making Peggy feel comfortable in her new digs, despite the radical change the move presented to her life. Everyone supporting her worked hard to visit her a fair amount in those early days. We felt pretty wise in selecting the facility that we had, located in the old neighborhood of San Jose where she had lived for years. Some of her friends lived less than ten minutes away, making additional visitors a sure thing for her. Coincidentally, one of my best friends lived close by too, so I could always nab a quick lunch with her when I was in town and decompress a bit.
Beyond its convenient location, the facility’s best feature was that beautiful park located essentially right next door. Turns out, it was one of the properties Peggy had managed before she retired, and that familiarity really helped my sister to accept life in assisted living. It had a lovely trail where we could walk with her, and we would let her tell us all about the property’s particular features and its flora and fauna. A highlight was the part of the trail that included a big grass clearing filled to the brim with squirrels and other little critters; I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many squirrels in my life!
The area was also frequented by owls and other birds of prey who liked to circle sometimes, and they were awesome to see—but a touch more lethal to the wildlife than we expected.
Another way we kept things social for Peggy was with Oriana, her choir group. Even though she was now living about an hour away, she very much still wanted to participate. Thankfully, Les offered to drive her to and from practice once a week. I know it was a hassle for him, but I was so glad he could do it because it meant so much to Peggy. When she and I discussed the group one night and how much it meant to her, I heard her say for the first time that she wanted “to be a person again.” She wanted to be out in the world, spending time with her friends and family, going to activities, and just living her life. I also wished she could do that.
Unfortunately, during this time my sister kept misplacing her phone, which was a bitter reminder that her abilities had declined and would continue to do so. We quickly found it for her each time, but as we started to plan out our big trip to Italy and Sicily together, I couldn’t stop worrying that that she might lose it in a foreign country and not be able to get it back. So when she misplaced her phone again (and we found it for her again), I decided to lie to Peggy for the first time. I told her, instead, that we still hadn’t been able to locate it and we’d find it for her when we all got back from our travels. She wasn’t happy, but she accepted it.
I wasn’t happy, either. Some caregivers call this sort of prevarication a “fiblet” or a “redirection” or a “compassionate fabrication” but I was entirely a novice at it. To me it felt like a bald-faced lie—perhaps a necessary one, but a lie nonetheless. So I had to make my peace with it. Then we locked her phone up in a secure place, and began the final preparations for our trip.