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| Peacock Butterfly |
I am an intensely private person and I've been wondering whether to post about this. Many go through a similar experience so maybe it will help me or someone else.
I meant to write a tribute to my father, but events surrounding his 'passing away by other people' are still present and the logistics prevent me from moving on.
I am well aware of the cutthroat practices of the elder care industry. I've never known it to be different and my father being my father made all the necessary preparations. We couldn't have prepared for the psychopaths in this industry. They've gotten worse over time. Experienced staff is being let go, replaced by people who have none, especially when it comes to seniors.
My father had arranged for someone to shop for him. On one occasion he yelled "I do not have a coffee machine!" I couldn't figure out what he meant until my suspicion about the shopper made me hide while he came to shop. Mr. Scam would purchase coffee cartridges and other products for himself, tell my father that that's all they had, pretend to return them and expect my father to forget the return by next week. My father ended up low on groceries and scammed out of about 50 dollars a week.
I expected compassion and gerontologists, I ended up with a commission based "consultant to seniors" (wtf is that?) and aggressive psychological support offers, which made me snap "are you trying to talk him out of being old?" Then someone had claimed that he was 'bedridden and suffered from dementia' (he wasn't). The harassment (see below) was relentless until we got a lawyer and court order to desist. It worked until the next fiscal quarter when they revisited and ran off after I waved the court order at them.
By the time I had arranged the home care assessment, I had wasted more time fending off vultures and harpies then actually finding anyone to help. I was exhausted doing most of it myself and burnt out.
How a butterfly saved a human life:
In the middle of the world turning upside down, I was also fending off predatory nursing homes that wanted my father's finances, going so far that behind my back they had approached him, taken him on a trip to show him the facilities and tried to FORCE him to sign on the dotted line. Going even further by sending him flowers and meals as incentives. I had promised him that he'll never end up there.
I had arranged for a house visit assessment for home care. The night before I had prepped the medical records in a nice folder: "Age related cognitive decline. No dementia." The morning of this assessment my father had found and misplaced the folder. F..k! The report would have helped him and fended off greedy vultures.
Assessor came with his laptop, refused coffee and cookies. The questions started. Went well. After 90 minutes the difficult questions started, my proud father in his suit and tie started to shake like a leaf, angry and scared. I was fearing an outburst. A colorful butterfly flew in that I had not seen since childhood. We all watched, relaxed chatted about butterflies. As a result of engaging conversation about butterflies, he passed his cognitive part. Approved. Disaster averted. I kept my promise and a butterfly saved his life.
Time will heal. I am aware of that. But time will not heal the cruelty that I was forced to witness. It remains simmering below the surface.
The acute stage of grieving is behind me, however I cannot grieve properly because I'm not grieving him, but what was done to him.
I miss you dad. I gave more than my best.
