I have a loudly senile new neighbor -- or -- None of us want to be here, dear, so shut the fuck up!

She’s 94 with Stage 28 Alzheimer’s. She yelled all night, mostly about how she hates it here and wants to go home. I’m not sure how many of her yelling targets still exist on this astral plane. Being the very soul of understanding and tolerance I offered a nurse the use of my pillow to smother her, but my offer was declined. I did ask her to shut up a couple times because I feel the senile will sometimes benefit from being coddled less. “No, mom/Mrs Jones, you aren’t alone here and need to behave,”

Yeah. Fuck those Alzheimer patients, amirite? They should just stop being senile.

There aren’t enough:rolleyes::rolleyes::rolleyes::rolleyes:

Unfortunately, when it’s your turn in the [del]barrel[/del] nursing home, you won’t be aware of the lesson.

But I AM in the barrel/nursing home! Time for a living will.

My father had to put up with that in a rehab facility. They were full and had no where else to move him to. There were a bunch of crazy yellers there, don’t know why they weren’t kept altogether. Not sure why they aren’t more medicated either when they are that far out of it.

Anyway, other than that, how things going?

Chemical control is considered ethically quite suspect. Especially when said chemicals pose significant risk for the debilitated patient.

No doubt, I’ve heard about problems with drugs pushed on these patients, but aren’t there milder medications to use, or are they in use already and just not sufficient?

I was just going to dart her with some Benadryl, like in that psych ward I attended.

That’s the issue: those which are mild enough to not pose a risk are also not making them unconscious. Medical care is supposed to focus on what’s best for the patient, not for those who are bothered by the patient.

My friend had to spend some time in rehab recovering from surgery, and one of his roommates was a continual talker. He’d talk if people were in the room, or if he saw somebody out in the hallway. He was constantly telling his life story, and then he’d add other details based on conversations he overheard. If he heard somebody talking about their chicken farm, he’d become a chicken farmer. My friend said the talker said he was a TV weatherman, a travel agent, and also worked for the government, the CIA, and Mafia-hunting task forces.

My wound culture came back with two bacteria that would, and had, responded to Cipro and a third that doesn’t. I’m in the most half-assed isolation–no masks, gloves only if one will touch me, IOW no changes. The third is Staphylococcus aureus and I need a special antibiotic for it.

“Staph aureus? EVERYBODY has it.”

“Not everybody has it eating a hole in his foot.”

I’ve given up on suggesting maggot therapy.

Fuck you, asshole. Yeah, I’m sure she’s annoying when you can’t get away from her, but she’s in her own personal hell and I’m sure she can’t do much to control it. Good luck with “not coddling” her.

My mother, who is 88, has dementia, and can’t remember anything for more than five minutes. She’s still living at home, but often thinks she’s somewhere else and asks when are we going to our house.

A couple of year ago we went through a very bad spell with her when she started to hallucinate that she was hearing babies cry. She would ask “Do you know where my babies are?” Then she started to think that someone was harming the babies. Then she decided that if you denied hearing them and wouldn’t help look for them, you must be in on the plot and killing the babies too.

Over Thanksgiving I was visiting and it was my job to watch her since at the time we didn’t have full time care for her. On the day after Thanksgiving, when my back was turned, while insisting to look for the babies (and screaming at me “Why are you killing the babies?!!!”) she managed to get out the front door and onto the porch. She began to scream at passersby “Help! Help! He’s killing the babies!” as I tried to calm her down and smiled sheepishly at them while explaining I was not actually killing babies. Finally the neighbors came over and managed to calm her down and get her back inside.

That night at 3 AM she spent over two hours screaming out the front window “Help! Help! They’re killing the babies! Won’t someone please help!” Fortunately I don’t think anyone could hear her on the street. I was most afraid that if some did come it would end up with her being taken away.

After that her doctor prescribed some anti-psychotics for her. She’s in much less distress now. She occasionally asks where the babies are, but if you tell her “I don’t know” she just accepts it. As far as I can tell, she isn’t any more “out of it” than she was before.

It’s a bit ironic, since my father was schizophrenic and she had to care for him for decades.

Which makes it a problem when those being bothered ARE patients.

That sounds. Well. Slightly more entertaining that just the same life repeated endlessly. If I had to have a talker, I think I’d prefer it. I’d never have to feel guilty about forgetting what they’d said.

Not very innovative, are they? Although maybe they’re afraid that everyone will want them. Sorry to hear about the antibiotic resistance.

Then the target of the pitting shouldn’t be the other patient who is also in distress, but the circumstances that require him to be in earshot of her. Should another patient suffering enough pain that they can’t help moaning also be pitted?

The hospital staff probably can’t really do a lot about it either. While specific drugs did help my mother, simply tranquilizing a patient so they don’t disturb others wouldn’t be good treatment either.

I’ve mentioned before my experiments with maggot debridement. It turns out to be a cutting edge innovation. And I proved wrong every thing I’ve read about the role of maggots in forensics because they don’t stop when they are out of dead flesh to eat. The little bastards hurt.

As for my neighbor, they seem to have found a more appropriate ward. I hope they gave her a little sumpin’ sumpin’ because that would be a rough way to go. My prayer for folks nearing the end of their journeys is “May it be fast and painless.” I wouldn’t wish that torment on Trump.

Absolutely, but I am also a heartless wise-ass. What happened was she was brought in late and they put her in the first available room, which annoyed me. I wasn’t clear if you thought I was Pitting her instead of her condition and that this joint didn’t have a doctor available who knew what to do.

And the walls are paper thin. Just another layer of sheetrock with an air gap would be a cheap and easy solution.

Fuck you again. The OP sure looks like you were Pitting her personally, when you referred to coddling her and asking her to behave. Your only reference to staff is asking a nurse to murder her.

Not. Fucking. Funny. You. Asshole.

Sorry about your foot and the infections, and I understand your need to vent. Hope you get well soon.

My mom has dementia. Early on, everybody was out to get her. Some days, she cried to me about how my sister was trying to steal from her. Other days, she cried to my sister about how I was trying to poison her. Some days, she told one of us or the other about all the people she was going to shoot. Every day. My stomach would tie into knots whenever the phone rang.

The disease progressed and dosages were refined, and all that stopped.

Still, though, whenever I see or talk to her on the phone, she wants to go home. Even if she’s sitting in her own house at Thanksgiving, “Can we go home soon?” But, of course, she has no idea who any of us are. I think she wants to be with the few she has some dim recollection of–her parents and siblings. But most of them are already dead.

I wish to apologize to Colibri and everybody with senile family members. I didn’t get any sleep and lashed out at an easy target. I will make every effort to not be that exact form of asshole again.