4Chapter four
Dad forgets his pills since Mom died. She used to do it. The pill organizer she filled every Sunday, and the routine he can keep
She did the pills the way she did the birthdays: quietly, on Sunday, without ever calling it a system. Here is how to rebuild the Sunday without taking anything over.
Dad forgets his pills since Mom died. She used to do it. You found the box on the counter with Wednesday still full on a Friday, or three empty compartments and a Tuesday somehow taken twice, and you realized that "Dad takes his pills" was never true. Mom took his pills, in the sense that she counted them, refilled them, called the pharmacy, and said "did you take them" over the eggs every morning for thirty years. He just swallowed.
This chapter is about rebuilding her Sunday, not about what is in the box. Nobody here knows what he takes or should take, and nobody here will guess. Every question about a dose, a missed dose, or whether two of those belong in the same body on the same day goes to the pharmacist and his doctor. What we can do is describe the routine, because the National Institute on Aging has written it down.
What she was actually doing every Sunday
The NIA's page on taking medicines safely as you age describes the whole job under one heading, keeping track of your medicines. Make a list, it says: every medicine including over-the-counter drugs, vitamins and supplements, with the name, the amount, and the times it is taken. Show the list to every provider. Keep one copy at home and one in a wallet. That list was in your mother's head. The first Sunday job is getting it onto paper, with the pharmacist, who has the records.
The NIA's getting started with caregiving page lists keeping track of medications among the ordinary tasks a family caregiver ends up holding, right next to laundry and rides. It is not a nursing task when a daughter does it. It is a Sunday task.
Rebuilding the Sunday
- The box. The NIA says some people use meals or bedtime as reminders, and others use charts, calendars, or weekly pill boxes, plus timers and written reminders. Use the box she used. Fill it on Sunday, at his table, with the list next to you, and let him watch. Watching is how he learns the shape of it again.
- One pharmacy. The NIA advises having all prescriptions filled at the same pharmacy so the records are in one place and the pharmacist is alerted if a new drug might cause a problem with something else. If your mother used two, consolidate to the one closest to him.
- Bottles he can open and labels he can read. The same page says to check that you can open the container and ask the pharmacist for easier bottles if not, and to ask for larger type if the label is hard to read. A man with big hands and reading glasses he keeps losing needs both.
- Ask about packaging. Some pharmacies offer packaging that groups doses by day and time. Whether his does, and whether it suits what he takes, is the pharmacist's answer to give. Ask it out loud at the counter with him standing there.
- A light on. The NIA says not to take medicine in the dark because you might make a mistake. Put a lamp next to wherever the box lives.
- The missed-dose question, asked once, in advance. The NIA's list of questions for the pharmacist includes "If I forget to take my medicine, what should I do?" Ask it for each medicine, write the answer on the list, and tape the list inside the cabinet. That is the question you will otherwise be asking a website at eleven at night. Do not ask a website.
The Sunday call
Here is a rhythm that works for a daughter in Ballwin and a father in Glencoe. Sunday: the box gets filled, by you at his table or by him on the phone with you while he does it. Wednesday: someone looks at the box. Saturday: you look again, and if a compartment is still full, it is a note for the pharmacist, not an argument. The companion chapter is about stacking those visits so there are no gaps.
Who may remind, and who may not
This is the line families get wrong in both directions. Reminding a man that it is Tuesday morning and the Tuesday compartment is still full is prompting. Deciding which tablets should be in that compartment is medicine. A non-medical caregiver does the first and never the second. Missouri's health department describes three types of care in the home, and the private duty or private pay type, which includes companion care and aide personal care, needs no physician's order and is not a category the state licenses. Companies of that type send people who can watch the box, say the words, and call you if Wednesday is still full. They do not set doses, change doses, or decide what a symptom means. If a company tells you otherwise, ask it to say that again slowly.
"He takes too many pills"
You may be right, and it is still not your call or ours. The NIA notes that people 65 and older tend to take more medicines than any other age group, and its instruction is precise: if you are concerned about taking too many medications, have a conversation with the health care provider about whether any could safely be reduced or stopped. It also says not to take a larger dose thinking it will help more, and not to skip or halve doses to save money. Bring the list to the appointment, hand it over, and ask that exact question. Let the doctor do the subtracting.
The pills and the truck
One more thing your mother knew. The NIA's safe driving page says some medicines can make a person drowsy, lightheaded or less alert, and to ask the doctor or pharmacist whether any health problems or medications make it unsafe to drive. The driving chapter takes it from there.
What to do tonight
- Gather every bottle in the house, including the bathroom cabinet and the kitchen windowsill, into one shoebox. Do not sort it. Just find it all.
- Write the pharmacy's name and number on the fridge in large print.
- Look at the box. Note which days are full and which are not, with today's date. That note is for the pharmacist.
- Pick the lamp that will live next to the box.
When to ask the care team or the doctor
Take the shoebox and the list to the pharmacist this week and ask three things: is this list complete, what should he do about a missed dose of each one, and is there packaging that would make this easier. Then take the same list to his doctor and ask whether anything can safely be reduced. The NIA says both conversations belong to those two people.
Doubled compartments, empty bottles that should be half full, or a bottle that is on no list: that is a call to the pharmacy today, not a thing to fix at the table.
Questions daughters ask
Can a companion caregiver give Dad his pills?
A non-medical caregiver can remind him that the compartment is full, hand him the box he already owns, and tell you when a day was missed. That is prompting. Setting up what goes in the box, changing a dose, or deciding a pill can be skipped is medicine, and it belongs to the pharmacist and the doctor. Ask any company to describe exactly what its caregivers do and do not do with medicines before anyone comes to the house.
What if he took two by mistake?
Call the pharmacy, and if it is closed, the number on the bottle or his doctor's after-hours line. The NIA lists the missed-dose question as a pharmacist question and warns against larger doses; a doubled dose is the same conversation in the other direction. We will not guess for you. That is the point of writing the pharmacist's answers on the list in advance.
Will the pharmacy fill the weekly box for us?
Some offer packaging sorted by day and time; some do not; some charge. We have not verified any pharmacy's policy and will not pretend to. Ask his. If the answer is yes, the Sunday job becomes a pickup instead of a count, and that is worth a phone call.
The card on the fridgeWhat a good week looks like for Dad
- The Sunday pill box got filled, and by Saturday it was empty in the right order.
This chapter adds that line. The whole card, one line per chapter, is on the front page.
Next chapterA companion for an elderly widowed father is not a nurse: what a few hours a week actually looks like