This week I attended the funeral of an elderly woman who died in a tragic accident in her home, an accident that could have easily been prevented. It was a situation that I would never have imagined could happen. I want to share her story as a warning to those of us who are caregivers for elderly or disabled parents and loved ones.
Mrs. B (not her real name) was 87 years old and lived alone. She was still quite active despite suffering from severe arthritic pain for the last several years, and she was adamant about maintaining her independence.
Although she could afford to hire a nurse aide to assist in her personal care, that fierce streak of independence held her back. But time took its toll with her, just as it does with us all. Eventually it became impossible for Mrs. B to get in and out of the bathtub by herself, so her doctor recommended that she acquire a bath lift that would help her enter and exit the tub safely. Her family welcomed this move, believing it would allow her to maintain that prized independence.
Unfortunately, that bath lift proved to be the death of Mrs. B. Last week, while exiting the tub, Mrs. B slipped off the seat and became wedged between the lift and the side of the tub, face down in the water. Because of her arthritis, she did not have the strength to extricate herself and she drowned in her own bathtub. The bathwater was still warm when she was found by her neighbor, who popped in every morning to check on her, but it was too late. The coroner says the equipment did not malfunction; it was simply an accident. Had she not been alone at the time, it might have turned out differently.
I am deeply disturbed by this, not only because I loved and respected Mrs. B, but because I am caring for my elderly, disabled father who is currently in a nursing center but wants very badly to return home. He lives alone, and we have been working on properly equipping his home that so that he can live safely. A bath lift is one of things we have been considering installing for my dad because he has only limited use of his left arm and leg.
Mrs. B's accident was no doubt a fluke; thousands of people use similar equipment without incident each and every day. What concerns me is that caregivers such as myself may become lulled into a false sense of security. We equip our charges' living quarters with all the best adaptive technology, falsely believing that we are doing all we can to protect them and keep them safe and independent, when that may not be the case at all.
Please, if you are caring for someone who uses any type of adaptive technology for bathing, don't let them use it alone. Your loved one may not want your direct assistance, but as Mrs. B's accident shows, even the most sophisticated technology for the disabled may backfire. A lot of people who must depend on others for their care resist such "interference" (I know my father does), but it seems clear to me that acceding to such resistance can result in tragedy.
There will be no bath lift in my father's home. Should he return home (I'm pushing for assisted living), it will be with the condition that he hire an aide. Fortunately he has the resources to do this, which won't be the case for many (perhaps even most) people, sadly enough. During my odyssey to make arrangements for my father, I've discovered that Medicare won't pay a dime for such care until he's completely exhausted his assets. It's simply shameful.
Mrs. B's family is devastated by guilt, despite the fact that she had a long and fruitful sojourn in this life and that the choice to stay at home, alone, was solely hers. They regret not having pressed the issue of hiring help, which would have prevented this tragic mishap.
I know that accidents happen all the time and that there is no way to guarantee anyone's safety 100%. But we can be more cautious by not assuming that even the latest and greatest adaptive technology can keep our loved ones from harm.
It's so hard to care for someone like Mrs. B or my dad when they don't want the help no matter how badly they need it. My father gets really crotchety when I insist on certain things (like a ramp or a toilet seat riser), but I'm not budging on the issue of hiring help.
In the end, Mrs. B's death served a valuable purpose: I now recognize that simply equipping my father's home will not be enough to insure his safety. He's going to fight me, but that's OK. I WILL win this one.