They originally cost $3,000–all the bells and whistles, molded to her ears. As she forgot how the different features worked, I had them disabled. She was down to one in her only good ear, but kept absently fussing with it and taking it out–much like the face scratching we struggled with for months on end.
Wednesday I got a deeply contrite email from Chris, the social worker at QO. The hearing aid was missing. He had almost the entire staff looking for it until at last the electronic part was found. She had put it in her pocket, a CNA hadn’t checked, and it had gone through the laundry.
I talked with him yesterday when I took her back after a doctor’s appointment and lunch with me at home. Yes, I had been upset, but he himself had felt so bad and had chewed out the CNAs so forcefully I just couldn’t pile more on him. They are supposed to allow for such things from dementia patients, true, but it’s done and over with.
He gave me an application for a reduced cost replacement through the “Lighthouse,” a Lions Club program. I will fill it out and see what happens. Later, if the cost seems prohibitive, I may ask QO for help.
I expected there to be glitches and bumps along the way until she settles in and they get to know her. I have been gentle about pointing them out, and each has been addressed promptly. I don’t want to be the family member everyone turns away from when I show up. At the same time, I want them to know I am paying attention and expect good and thoughtful care. Picking my battles, as it were.
I still think this is the best possible place for her. There are far more entertainment programs than at WP, and the staff seems proactive about including her in as many types of activities as possible. She is confused, but not unhappy, as far as I can tell.