My mom, now 91, has one of those foot-square plastic trays with pills sorted out in lidded compartments by day and time, 28 for a week. (I have a smaller one, still just one little lidded box per day. And the system works better for me because most of the time I can still remember what day it is).
In the case of my mom, whose physical health is remarkably good, most of the drugs are psychoactive. I have not followed what they all are, or which discouraging aspect of her emotions and behavior they are meant to treat, since we have two nurses and a doctor in the family who are much better qualified for this responsibility than I. Just now, my sister was on the phone with the psychiatrist, having a very complicated conversation about dosages and trying more of this and less of that.
The result of all this medication is that my mom is not crazy, exactly, but still quite depressed. And more confused than she should be, given the appearance of a recent brain scan. (She doesn't have Alzheimer's--you could have fooled me.)
Coming from the 1960's by way of California, I of course see the obvious option of trying some really good drugs, if she is going to be on drugs. Primo bud her food, might be a good place to start.
Apparently my teenage nephew recently made a similar suggestion at the dinner table but was quickly stifled (his father the doctor is, like most doctors, quite conservative).
For myself, if I make it past 90, I definitely intend to do it stoned.
That is pretty much my take on the situation as well. Just give her Demerol. She might still hurt, but she won't care. And everyone else will be a lot happier.
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