So, you've navigated your frail parent's hospital stay and now it's time to go home. You probably can't wait to leave but ... what's coming next is extremely uncertain. Leaving a hospital with a frail older adult in tow is like stepping off a cliff blindfolded.
Dad had a fall. The resulting injuries are horrific. The top of his femur smashed through his pelvis, shattering it. Picture a plate dropped onto a tile floor. That is my dad's pelvis. I've seen the images from the CAT scan, and they made me sick to my stomach. Doctors can do nothing to fix it.
They fall for the urgent need of money being wired to a desperate relative caught overseas with all of their money stolen, or they fall for the get-rich-quick schemes because they lack the skepticism or cynicism that most of us have.
They gave us a list. To make preparing easier, it read. It included all the basics. Practical things: furniture, linens, toiletries, and clothing. Under each category there were specific items listed. We were pressed for time. Rushed.
I made a commitment. I told my husband I was going to make my parents a top priority in my life. He agreed. On my mom's 80th birthday in 1999, we physically moved my parents to a new home less than a mile from our house.
Once all the emotional baggage has been cleared out of the way, you're free to worry about the only thing you really have to worry about, which are the practical aspects of physically protecting your mother from herself.