Zach had been a builder and a mini-real estate mogul. Zach was a widower. Zach was handsome and tall. At 92 he had a full head of wavy white hair. He loved women and most of them loved him right back. He had money. He was charming. He was a sport and a fabulous dresser. He lived in an Aventura penthouse apartment.
Close your eyes and imagine Donald Trump at age 92 and that was Zach. Unfortunately, Zach was totally and completely NON-compliant. If it didn't fit with his overall plan, he wouldn't do it, period, end of story.
It would have been easy to blame the non-compliance on his two daughters and label them enablers, but in truth, there were not many who could stand up to Zach. Children of such larger than life characters will always waver at the end. They can not possibly override a lifetime of conditioning. He had the CNA completely buffaloed as well, and she was serving him most of his meals in bed. The doctor wanted him moving, and walking, but Zach wanted no part of that regimen.
Enter the complete stranger; Me. Well, I got him moving, I got him taking his medications, I got him bathing more frequently, but I couldn't get him to eat his meals sitting at the table. So as a last ditch maneuver I purchased a leather reclining lounge chair with those magic finger things to massage his back and plopped it directly in front of the T.V.
I told the CNA: "Shirley put the food on the end table near the chair and don't let him eat in bed. I don't care if it takes 3 days, he'll eventually get hungry enough to get out of bed and eat. Then my husband and I embarked on a driving vacation to Branson Missouri.
"Ronnee, can we return the chair if he doesn't use it?"
"Ronnee, why did I let you talk us into this?"
"Ronnee, he'll never sit in that chair."
"Ronnee he'll never get out of bed to eat"
"Ronnee, my father is starving"
"Ronnee please, Ronnee this and Ronnee that."
It took one full day and at least 400 phone calls from the daughters, the CNA and himself, but we finally got him to get out of his bed. My husband was ready to kill someone. But finally, at last, 4 full days of peace and quiet and a well earned vacation.
Did you guess the ending? Because the next 400 phone calls were "Ronnee, he won't get out of that chair." "Ronnee he insists on sleeping in that chair." "What are we going to do?" My husband answered this series of questions: "Unplug the T.V. and put the food on the dining table and call us in 3 days".
Zach was eventually so pleased with his progress that he took the whole family to dinner @ Morton's the very next week.
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