The aging road runner does it again

As a pet owner with special needs, not lost on me is the mess I’d be in if one or both my dogs got loose. My door is always locked and those who know me well don’t find that odd given marathon mutt’s proclivities.

The last time Mr. Digby escaped the Chez Rockwell compound, barely avoiding being struck by a vehicle, was back in 2007 just weeks after adoption. He lunged just hard enough on his tie-out line to break the collar he came with, running down the driveway hot on the tires of the truck belonging to the contractor supervising work being done on my home. Gary and Mr. Digby were new BFFs and part of their special routine was to go for walks as soon as Gary arrived each morning. Sometimes, Gary took him for a walk before leaving for the day.

Stopped at the end of the driveway waiting to turn out onto the road, Gary just happened to look out his sideview mirror and notice the tenacious one; after stopping the truck, he got out and very calmly walked around, knowing that Mr. Digby was a marathon man on four legs. Just as he reached down to scoop him up, the little rascal bolted across the road, but thankfully captured without further incident. The D-man was immediately collared in stylish leather featuring the MacInnis tartan. Yes, there’s a story about the collar.

Since his Houdini routine of 2007, Mr. Digby had not managed to make a run for it — until several days ago when I had a lapse in paying attention. One must never miss a beat when there’s a terrier in the house. Was it inevitable he’d try to go on a solitary walking tour, or rather a running tour? Would his advanced age stop him? I made the mistake of under-estimating his resolve.

On the day of his great escape, I had tethered Miss Lexie on her own but forgot to close the gate from the kitchen and Mr. Digby stepped into the laundry room to look out into the garage. I didn’t think he’d make a bold move with me right there. Wrong!  He stepped into the garage and started walking towards the opening to the yard. I panicked but I didn’t want to spook him so I got down on my knees to crawl out to try to grab him. No go. He was getting further away, sauntering along. My crutches were out of reach, hanging on a wall inside the garage.

I then crawled back to the garage as I couldn't easily get up on my feet to walk without aids. With leash in hand, I got to my mobility scooter and switched it on, moving slowly down the driveway. Mr. Digby paused to look at me and then he started to run. 15 years old and he was on the move — the chase was on. I had hoped he’d come back to me since he did know about scooter walks and liked them. Wasn’t going to happen.

A good student of rural walks, he kept to the shoulder. I was calling 'help me' in case neighbours were out and would come to my aid. Thankfully, it was an early Saturday morning with little traffic, I continued to move in my housemate’s direction.

I managed to wave down an oncoming truck; the passenger got out and I continued to move along so I could pass him the leash. Mr. Digby was really running. I gave the guy a Tootsie Pop (a movie watching treat) I had in my robe pocket. Off he went, moving slowly towards the trotting terrier, a few times getting close to the wayward one. D wasn't falling for the 'bait n switch' at first. Finally, the elderly dog’s tongue came out to take a swipe at the sweet treat, just long enough for his saviour to grab him, leash him and hand him off to me. Off we went, headed home. In my panic, I failed to get the gentleman’s name, so if he is reading this tale of my obstreperous canine Olympian —  “thank you for saving my dog!”. 

Once back in the house, I looked down at my feet. Bloody socks! Dragging my lower body along when I went to ground to grab the dog did a bit of damage to the tops of my feet. I really should wear my bootie slippers when going out with them. The canine crew wasted no time ministering to my wounds, though I got no sticker for being a good patient. Before settling in to watch the news, I replaced the Tootsie pop I had to give up for he who has no clue he’s a d*g.

Carla MacInnis Rockwell is a freelance writer and disability rights advocate living outside Fredericton, NB with her aging Australian silky terrier and a rambunctious Maltese. She can be reached via email at carmacrockwell@xplornet.ca 

Aging caregivers of profoundly disabled adult children need help

In a recent commentary I addressed the issue of mental health and emotional wellness and how lack of it affects every aspect of life.

As I age with disability, I think of parents, some of whom  are entering their 9th decade, still caring for senior/adult children with challenges to full participation ‘in the world’; a son or daughter who is 50, 60,  even nearing 70! I cannot begin to imagine the stress — aging parents coping with their own frailty of both physical and mental health while worrying and wondering about what’s to become of their adult child whose independent living was  challenged by disabilities. Like their grown up son or daughter, they’ve become medically fragile yet they press on. In their view, however well intentioned,  there’s no one who can better care for their child.

So entrenched in that belief, they ridge against the very thought of accepting full-time or even part-time in home care, or God forbid any suggestion that their son or daughter go into full time nursing home care. Sometimes, the elderly parent is on track for nursing home residency but balks as there is no one to care for Jack. No one to care for Jill. Cities across our great country  would benefit from expanded group homes similar to those developed by Jean Vanier with the L’Arche communities — perhaps a campus of group homes for adults with various types of disabilities from minimal to profound, still part of the larger community, but arranged in a way that makes delivery of services and care more time and cost efficient, enhancing their access to community interaction. 

The typical group home settings popular in the 70s still work today and are often staffed with volunteers or students taking courses specific to working with and for those with special needs; full-time ‘house parents’ are on site. The ongoing relationships developed allow for personal growth across the ages. A blend of that type of care along with the campus-like accommodations we see today would lend themselves well to geriatric parents perhaps letting go more easily, knowing that their child would be safe and well, thriving an environment with those who are, in lots of ways, like him.

Given that persons with disability do make significant contributions to the economy, and in that regard are no different than the ‘mainstream’, we must ensure that their unique needs are addressed in ways that never devalue them as people. We are living longer and with that comes a need to redesign the elder care landscape to include the challenges of a range of conditions, particularly those that impact mobility.

Imagine, if you can, having to plan every single waking moment around the needs of your profoundly disabled child, every day in every way for10 years, 20 years, 40 years, 60 years. I don’t have to see you to know that your head is spinning and you have that ‘OMG’ expression on your face.

The various system of care have got to get on the same page sooner rather than later. Seniors aren’t getting any younger and their adult children with challenges to independent living are often beset with health concerns over and above their initial presenting condition. As example, a 65 year old non-ambulatory son living with fully involved quadriplegic cerebral palsy may also have a heart condition, be prone to lung infections, at risk for pressure sores that take weeks or even months to heal. Long-term hospitalisations would not be the best course given the risk of acquiring an air-borne infection. So the geriatric Mom or Dad, as caregiver, is physically and emotionally taxed; from dispensing medications, wound care, turning their child several times a day to take weight off pressure sensitive skin and so on. Sometimes, the home is not sufficiently equipped with devices that would contribute to ease of undertaking all that’s involved in the ‘nursing care’ component of allowing an adult with disability to ‘age in place’ with Mom and Dad, or sometimes just one parent alone, usually Mom.

Perhaps several of the government’s strategizing sessions should address the issues surrounding the elderly/geriatric person with disability and what’s really going on behind closed doors. Far too often persons in crisis won’t always ask for what they need or want to improve quality of life. That being so, it’s up to us to ask the questions. After all, what affect them impacts all of us.

Carla MacInnis Rockwell is a freelance writer and disability rights advocate living outside Fredericton, NB with her aging Australian silky terrier and a rambunctious Maltese. She can be reached via email at carmacrockwell@xplornet.ca