Life, hey? It throws you curveballs when you least expect it. Sometimes, these curveballs land so fast you barely have time to adjust your mitt. That's what it feels like lately. A whirlwind of emotions and logistics, all stemming from a big change in my mom's life – and ours.
We recently moved Mom into long-term care. And while the need for more support had been a growing awareness, the actual decision to move her happened incredibly fast, practically overnight. There was no time to sleep on it, no opportunity for lengthy deliberation. When the opportunity arose, we had to accept it, knowing deep down it was the right thing to do, even if the speed felt overwhelming.
Here's how it went down. My brother took Mom for a routine assessment with a geriatric specialist, someone who really understood the nuances of aging and cognitive health. The doctor raised concerns about Mom's increasing tendency to wander. This wasn't just a casual stroll around the block; it was an urge, an obsession with being outdoors. There was the time she wandered out in the evening without a coat in wintertime. Luckily, the police found her nearby in 20 minutes - but it could have been worse. That’s when we had to make the difficult decision to install a double deadbolt on the door. It broke our hearts, but her safety had to come first.
But let's be real, locking someone in their own home isn't living. It’s existing. The doctor’s assessment confirmed our fears. He diagnosed Mom as being in Stage 7 of Alzheimer's Dementia, also known as the severe or late stage. One of the key indicators at this stage is the loss of the ability to communicate verbally. For Mom, this manifested in a heartbreaking way. This woman, who for years called home to Taiwan every single day like clockwork, no longer had the capacity to pick up the phone and dial, even though she could still hold a brief conversation, and attend to most of her activities of daily living. The simple act of calling for help, even dialing 911 in an emergency, was beyond her. It was this inability to call for help that placed her firmly in stage 7.
Because of this diagnosis, Fraser Health Authority – the health authority responsible for the health services in the region stretching from Burnaby and New Westminster in the west, all the way east through to Boston Bar in the Fraser Canyon – prioritized her care. Now, this was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it meant she would get the support she desperately needed. On the other hand, it meant they had the authority to place her in the first available permanent bed, and that could have been anywhere within their vast network. To give you an idea of the geography, Hope, BC is about a two hour drive from Vancouver, where I live - on a good day. That's a significant distance when you're trying to visit a loved one regularly.
We knew we couldn't refuse the care being offered. Mom deserved to live in a safe environment where she could receive the specialized attention she needed. It wasn't right for her to be confined, unable to feel the sunshine on her face or breathe in fresh air. It felt inhumane.
Everything moved incredibly fast. This all started on a Friday. We submitted our preferred long-term care homes, prioritizing those specializing in dementia care, with our top choice listed first. We knew we could explore other options down the line, but we were prepared to make things work wherever Mom was placed.
Then, the following Wednesday, something truly wonderful happened. A permanent bed opened up at our number one choice! Not only that, but this care home is located almost perfectly halfway between my home and my brother's home. It felt like a small miracle, making visits accessible for both of us.
The long weekend that followed was a blur. We gently broke the news to Mom, in a way that she could understand, and then we packed up her belongings and moved her in. It was an adventure of sorts, filled with a strange mix of emotions. There was joy in knowing she was finally in a place where she would be well cared for, but also profound heartbreak at leaving her in the hands of professionals – even though we knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they would care for her with the same love and dedication we do, and in some ways, with the expertise we couldn’t provide.
It's been less than a week, and honestly, I feel like I'm still catching my breath. The logistics of it all have kept me busy, but I haven't had a real moment to just sit with what this all means. I know those Big Feelings are lurking, ready to surface. Everyone keeps saying things like, "It must be so hard," and "This must be such a huge weight off your shoulders." And they're not wrong – it is hard, and there is a sense of relief. But it's also… just happening. So quickly. One week ago, she was in her own home, surrounded by her familiar things. Now, she's sharing a room with another woman who also lives with dementia. She's in a community of 20 other individuals facing the same heartbreaking disease.
So, what does it all mean? It means my mom is getting the specialized care she needs in a safe and supportive environment. She's surrounded by compassionate caregivers and dedicated professionals. She's in a fantastic long-term care home – one that comes highly recommended by friends who have either worked there or had their own loved ones reside there. And I know how incredibly lucky we are to have secured a spot for her in such a wonderful place.
This new chapter is also a chance for me to step it up in a different way. To be even more present in Mom's life, to support her care in whatever way I can. And it brings me back to why I started Sage Gems Jewellery Co. It's for her. It's to honour her. It's to help provide for her needs and ensure she has the best possible quality of life. It's to contribute, in my own small way, to the Alzheimer's Society and to work towards a future where memories are cherished and don't fade away.
This journey is a reminder of the preciousness of memories and the importance of connection. Thank you to everyone who has reached out with their support. Your kindness means the world to me. And as an entrepreneur, I'm always grateful for any support you can offer. If you'd like to help Sage Gems continue to grow and contribute to the causes close to my heart, here are a few simple ways you can show your support:
- Give a post a like or leave a comment: Engagement helps more people discover my curated collections.
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- Leave a review if you've purchased from me: Your feedback helps others make informed decisions.
- Post a photo of your Sage Gems jewellery and tag me: I absolutely love seeing you wear my pieces!
Thank you for being a part of the Sage Gems community. Your support allows me to continue this journey, honouring my mom and working towards something meaningful.
With love and gratitude,
Lesley
