Remembering Auntie Fern
Great Auntie Fern would have been 110 today.
There were times that I thought Auntie Fern might outlive all of us, and then halfway into her 108th year she was gone. I miss her. We all do.
I got involved with all of her medical care, sort of by accident or maybe by providence, when she was 99. (My husband is related by way of his late "Gram", who was Fern's older sister.) We would stop at the retirement home to visit, and sometimes have dinner with her. She loved company. That's how the home happened to call us one day to say that Fern had been ill. This presented a problem for the staff because after a certain number of days a resident would have to move to a higher care facility. I offered to take her to the clinic and get some help for her.
When the doctor walked into the examination room he took one look at me and asked, "Are you just here today, or are you committed to the long haul?"
I committed.
She was sick, said the physician, because she was not administering her medicines correctly and she would have to go to assisted living if someone didn't take control. The first thing I discovered was that she had been pouring all of her prescriptions into a divided container and administering it whenever she thought about it. As spry and active as she appeared, she just couldn't handle her daily meds.
So I began a busy life as a helper that was such a delight and so rewarding. We went shopping. Sometimes my husband went, too. We found sturdier shoes as she still wanted to wear the little fancy ones from her fashion days that no longer fit and made walking difficult. We invested in a lift chair, replaced a broken TV, bought hearing aids, and in general just did things to give more quality to her life.
When she turned 100 we threw a huge party. She wore a tiara and blessed everyone individually with her feathered scepter. The photos and cards from that day were put in an album which she cherished.
Within weeks of becoming a centenarian, Auntie Fern received a corneal transplant. I had accompanied Fern earlier in the year to her 4 month eye appointment and heard what were now becoming familiar words, "Are you in for the day or from now on?" Fern had only one eye, having lost the other to shingles when she was in her 80's.
"Fern has serious issues with her remaining eye and will soon be blind, " the Doctor told me. She also said that she had been suggesting for over ten years that Fern have a corneal transplant, but there was no one locally to take the responsibility. So, I took it. I contacted her two granddaughters that lived hours away and the three of us got it done. At the time we didn't know she would enjoy sight for another seven years.
When Fern was 103 she started falling during the night. The retirement home said she had to be moved. That's when she entered assisted living. But, she fell anyway and broke her hip and never walked again.
Although physical therapy continued, her physical condition was beyond what the assisted living could offer. She was transferred once more; this time to a nursing facility to provide for her increased needs.
Although we had involved ourselves with Fern's daily needs, we hadn't been party to her financials. At one point my husband received a call from Adult Protective Service. They told us that another relative was taking money from Fern's account. He asked them "what am I was supposed to do?" The social worker suggested he hire a lawyer and legally get appointed Power Of Attorney. It was a very stressful thing for family to go through. Eventually we had the lawyer apply to have a guardian appointed to handle Fern's financial affairs. We should have done that from the start, but every situation has a learning curve.
Looking back we know we did the best we could. In return we had the opportunity to love and be loved by one of the most wonderful ladies who ever graced our world.
Once I asked her, knowing what she knew after living over 100 years, what she would do differently if she could do it all again.
Her answer: "I would just love you all more."
There were times that I thought Auntie Fern might outlive all of us, and then halfway into her 108th year she was gone. I miss her. We all do.
Fern on her 107th Birthday in 2016 enjoying a brief walk
When the doctor walked into the examination room he took one look at me and asked, "Are you just here today, or are you committed to the long haul?"
I committed.
She was sick, said the physician, because she was not administering her medicines correctly and she would have to go to assisted living if someone didn't take control. The first thing I discovered was that she had been pouring all of her prescriptions into a divided container and administering it whenever she thought about it. As spry and active as she appeared, she just couldn't handle her daily meds.
So I began a busy life as a helper that was such a delight and so rewarding. We went shopping. Sometimes my husband went, too. We found sturdier shoes as she still wanted to wear the little fancy ones from her fashion days that no longer fit and made walking difficult. We invested in a lift chair, replaced a broken TV, bought hearing aids, and in general just did things to give more quality to her life.
When she turned 100 we threw a huge party. She wore a tiara and blessed everyone individually with her feathered scepter. The photos and cards from that day were put in an album which she cherished.
Within weeks of becoming a centenarian, Auntie Fern received a corneal transplant. I had accompanied Fern earlier in the year to her 4 month eye appointment and heard what were now becoming familiar words, "Are you in for the day or from now on?" Fern had only one eye, having lost the other to shingles when she was in her 80's.
"Fern has serious issues with her remaining eye and will soon be blind, " the Doctor told me. She also said that she had been suggesting for over ten years that Fern have a corneal transplant, but there was no one locally to take the responsibility. So, I took it. I contacted her two granddaughters that lived hours away and the three of us got it done. At the time we didn't know she would enjoy sight for another seven years.
When Fern was 103 she started falling during the night. The retirement home said she had to be moved. That's when she entered assisted living. But, she fell anyway and broke her hip and never walked again.
Although physical therapy continued, her physical condition was beyond what the assisted living could offer. She was transferred once more; this time to a nursing facility to provide for her increased needs.
Although we had involved ourselves with Fern's daily needs, we hadn't been party to her financials. At one point my husband received a call from Adult Protective Service. They told us that another relative was taking money from Fern's account. He asked them "what am I was supposed to do?" The social worker suggested he hire a lawyer and legally get appointed Power Of Attorney. It was a very stressful thing for family to go through. Eventually we had the lawyer apply to have a guardian appointed to handle Fern's financial affairs. We should have done that from the start, but every situation has a learning curve.
Looking back we know we did the best we could. In return we had the opportunity to love and be loved by one of the most wonderful ladies who ever graced our world.
Once I asked her, knowing what she knew after living over 100 years, what she would do differently if she could do it all again.
Her answer: "I would just love you all more."
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