A MISPLACED BLOG BY A DISPLACED WRITER TYPING IN A CONFINED SPACE THE SIZE OF A MERE UNIVERSE. IF YOU ARE RUNNING AN AD-BLOCKER, YOU'LL MISS A FEW FEATURES LIKE THE FANTASTIC POLL. JUST SAYIN'.

Monday, 14 April 2025

DEMENTIA CARE: EMERGENCIES.

No, I haven’t had an emergency. Unless you count the two bottles of chocolate milk the supermarket offered instead of the regular supply, that time. But that put the supply down two bottles, and I have enough stock in place to deal with the shortfall.
   Technically, looking two weeks ahead, that’s where the shortfall would be. There are two milk stockpiles, in separate fridges. Even if a fridge dies, the supply continues. Hell, if the electricity supply goes, we’re on a priority list to get fixed up…
   And a sink with a basin and a cold running tap will pretend to be a fridge long enough, once the interior of the fridge loses its cool.
   But these emergency supplies and duplicate machines had me thinking. What should I have that I don’t? Access to the house if I am incapacitated inside the house. That was arranged. Carers have access if they need it.
   Keysafe. They know the code to unlock the box that houses the spare key.
   What about the ALERT…
   For years, you needed a landline to get an alert button. Or an alert button system, I should say. Two buttons. One could be worn on a wrist. No-go. Not for a dementia patient who would hit that button every few seconds, night and day.
   The alternative is a button on a lanyard. Waterproof, for use in the shower. Very handy if you fall and you are incapacitated in the bathroom. The main button, though, is on the box that plugs into the wall.
   If there’s a power-cut, the battery is good for two days. Barring a surprise earthquake, and a big one at that, disrupted power is on again within the hour. Almost always. But it is nice to have an emergency backup there.
   The alert, community alert, used to be available if you had a landline. There were always updates. They’ll upgrade soon. The 31st of February, every year. And so it went. Until a chance remark by a carer.
   Local authority care teams sometimes care for people in their home-life, too. Arranging a community alarm for a parent, and so on. One carer mentioned getting the “new” alert in. No phone or internet required, though an alert could be added through the internet.
   I would look into it.
   The Social Work department called up and asked for an annual review. Perfect timing. They’d hook me up with the whole thing. I’d get a call. A call came through one mid-afternoon. The engineer was in the area, and could get to me before 5.00 o’clock.
   Or 1700 to you, if you add up time in big numbers.
   The engineer arrived minutes later after a cancellation elsewhere, and told me I don’t work until 5.00. Hell, I’m not even in anyone’s house at 5.00. There were a few other points in the initial call that the engineer confirmed as bogus. Clearly, the caller worked until 5.00, and not the engineer.
   Technically, yes, the engineer reached me before 5.00. So the caller wasn’t exactly wrong.
   Other than that glitchy initial call, everything was fine. The internet thing was right out. You want the emergency box to be in the same room as the person being looked after.
   Solution. Just plug into the wall. Tune it up. One button to hit for emergencies. Another to cancel the call if it was put through by mistake. Test calls. All good. There it sits.
   What do I need the alert system for? Any emergency. I don’t need to call the emergency services if I use the alert system. How does that work? If there’s an emergency and both telephones are screwed, I can get fire, ambulance, police, coastguard I guess. Various rescue services up mountains and inside caves. Don’t think I’ll need bomb disposal, but you never know. Some of those pill bottles really need defused, rather than opened.
   With both phones dead and no power, I can ask for ANY SERVICE and it’ll be arranged at the other end. I can’t think of anything truly desperate that would involve the use of this new emergency system.
   But that is the point of an emergency system. It’s for something you never saw on the horizon. One more thing I’ve added to all the things. If I trip up near the emergency box and activate the alarm, I have a few seconds to head-butt the cancel button. That’s as complex as this is going to be.
   Oh, an engineer might call and tell me the battery in the lanyard button needs replacing. Annual maintenance. They will phone ahead. And that’s all I need to know. The “new” alarms have been rolling out for two years, now.
   And the story is the same. People now know the upgrade is in, so they request a “new” alarm. The engineer tells me this, many more things, and one thing I can’t repeat. That’s true of one of the carers, who told a story I can’t repeat.
   Different kind of alarm, on hearing these tales.
   (And since I started typing this, I’ve heard two more stories that I can’t set down here.)
   With so many pieces of equipment and back-up systems, I’ve finally added these last touches. The keysafe is a requirement of having the alert system. Responders, particularly, out-of-hours staff, need access to enter a house where one incapacitated person is living. Keysafe first. Alert next. Job finally done.
   Have I ever needed the alert? Even though it wasn’t there, did I need it back then? I’ve called the ambulance service more than once. Phone worked just fine. I evacuated during a small fire. Didn’t need the fire service, luckily. I’ve never called the police. There’s no reason to call the coastguard into this land-locked street.
   Did I have an emergency that didn’t involve calling on anyone, or even the possibility of making a call? Sure. I had to rush into town to purchase equipment. Bit of an emergency. I arranged the whole shopping expedition in seconds, and did what I had to do. The problem was resolved inside an hour.
   And the equipment lasted several years. So the problem went away that same day. No help required. I got by without the alert. And I’ll get by with it.
   So, now the technology is right there…what are my recommendations? With carers coming in regularly, get the keysafe as soon as possible. And go for that alert. Time was, I couldn’t have that alert in. But as soon as I knew it was there…it was there.
   Interrupted by the arrival of a letter. It’s the payment scheme for this service. A small weekly charge applies, and there’ll be a bill for the first few months of use. I suspect this bill is subsidised or capped. Possibly both. A lot of these services are.
   The local authority does not want to see anyone go into debt. The familiar phrase at the start of being a carer, about maximising income – making sure all the carer-related benefit is being claimed – that came up again at the annual Social Work review.
   Just in case I hadn’t applied for the higher level of Attendance Allowance. The Social Worker agreed with me that the name of the allowance is going to change soon, so we heard. To what, I don’t know. It should be seamless. A smooth changeover.
   I have my own thoughts on that. See a recent blog post for details.
   Yes, Daycare and Respite services are both capped, as I recall. The alert service costs less than a pound per day. Available 24 hours a day, every single day of the year. If I need to use it, I am sure the emergency will be complicated and messy.
   Or…I can use it to avoid a messy complicated problem. There was difficulty in getting some maintenance done. When you watch a carer being given the runaround on the number of phone calls they have to make to get through to the right place, you know in your heart (on your sleeve) that if you had to do that…
   You’d want a one-stop shop. If I face that messy complicated nonsense again, which did affect things around here for a while, I might just patch through to the alert people…who will arrange a quicker fix. Does that sound mean of me? It’s what the service is there for – to assist in keeping things running smoothly. Small emergencies are still emergencies, after all.
   I won’t hit that button to request help with a crossword puzzle, or to ask for information on the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow. The engineer told me many requests are false alarms and accidental button-presses. I’ll try not to elbow the alarm as I walk by.
   Like any piece of emergency equipment, you hope never to use it. The fire extinguishers on different floors of the building. Alert box. Keysafe. You’ll never need an ambulance. Keep hoping that’s the case. Bomb disposal…I think I’ll be okay.
   Some of those supermarket products arrive with security tags left in place. They need defusing more than opening.

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