Monday, March 5, 2012

A Three Story Life: Diapers

Dad got an evening call from the caseworker at MORC last week. Scott's health services personal companion had called her boss to find out what she could do about the smell in her car. I heard this second/third hand narrative as I walked in the door, still with my coat on. Dad asked if I'd gotten an email from Mary. I looked at my coat, the door. "Get an email when, where, from Mary who?" He started to tell the story, and I stopped him, said I'd make dinner and do dishes and then we'd talk. I asked Dad then to repeat the story, the sequence of contacts. Scott's personal companion (PC here on out) said Scott urinates in her car. This is what she relayed to her boss, who in turn called MORC. Still don't know the story from the concerned parties because right now it's hearsay from an unreliable narrator, but I've got the gist. Dad said he was depressed. I said "what are you depressed about? This isn't about you. This is about Scott and his dignity. Let's talk about solutions." First decision made: get the PC's car cleaned and de-stinked. The fact is Scott drops his pants to pee and stands sort of close to the toilet. He occasionally gets his pants. Diapers are not going to fix that. What are the alternatives? Retrain Scott to pee sitting down. Put diapers on him. Have the companion use my car. Get a great pad for the PC's car. Check on new PC because her limited schedule is part of the issue, and where they go (for 3 hr. coffee, with many pants peeing ops.) We will talk with Mary tomorrow, and the companion as well. I need to hear the other reporters' stories, then we will take appropriate action. Today I found out I bought tabbed diapers which won't work at all - Scott will just tear the tabs. So he and I talked about trying to sit on the toilet to pee. I don't have much hope for success, but I still want him to have options. I'll exchange the diapers. We'll talk to everyone. I'm damn proud of me. I switched my anger at the PC for not coming to us first to positive action. She did what seemed reasonable to her. I bushwhacked Dad's inability to cope by involving him in discussion and decision-making, and put aside my quaking heart to involve Scott in making choices about his dignity and freedom. Dad is calmer. I am calmer. Scott hopefully will remain calm. Anyone else's comfort is not my concern.

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