Restoring the Role of Independent Person
Once upon a time Karen ended up in the ER surrounded by her kids because, well... It was silly. She hadn't been sick. She explained to me in the comfort of her small single-bedroom apartment that it had really mostly been due to her best friend's shock at finding Karen on the floor. A bunch of embarrassing fuss over nothing. And no, it wasn't the first time the MS had gotten to her legs, but it really hardly ever happened. And she normally remembered to use her walker, so it certainly wouldn't happen again.
Parked ten feet away in a dim corner and bearing a large red stop sign on its front, the walker told a slightly different version of Karen's tale.
"Who put the stop sign on your walker?" I asked.
"Oh my kids did that," she smiled.
---
At the next visit Karen's daughters were visiting and expressed approval of the new arrangement of furniture that allowed their mom to steady herself as she made her way across the room. The walker, still relegated to the darkest corner, now waited patiently below a sign that Karen and I had printed off her computer. It cautioned Karen only to "Go" with her walker.
Karen cheerfully flouted this advice and furniture surfed over to the phone to show her daughters the new Lifeline unit we had ordered.
I was pleased to see she'd been using the pill organizer. The walker? I knew she would be much safer if she used it. I'd also figured out--because she hadn't exactly been subtle--that she was happier risking hip and limb without the thing than living low-risk with it. Was there more to be done? Oh my yes, but this was a good enough start.
