If you love an old person, and especially if you’re his or her primary lifeline to the outside world, please make it a point to monitor the medications he or she is taking. And be on the lookout for any changes that might be significant, from weight gain to personality change; you may need to do some research and then go to bat for your beloved.
 
The research part is easy. Just plug each of the drugs into a search engine like Google, add a symptom or two that you’ve noticed, and check out the results. If you’re able to process more technical information, try a medical search engine like www.pubmed.gov or https://scholar.google.com/.
 
Don’t believe everything you find, especially on the non-technical side of the web. But if you come across significant evidence that a drug may be harming your loved one, and if it comes from apparently reliable sources, start building your case: Compile the evidence along with a full list of the medications he or she is currently taking, print it out and highlight the key points for presentation to the doctor in charge.
 
If this physician is less than approachable, or is always pressed for time in today’s drive-through healthcare environment, consider first taking your case to a local pharmacist. (Make an appointment if necessary; pharmacists seem to be even busier than doctors these days and will no doubt appreciate your sensitivity to his or her stress level.) Outline your concerns and what you’ve found out so far. Take careful notes and add them to your evidence document – and then approach the responsible physician with this professional take on the situation.
 
Never assume that having a slew of healthcare providers tending to your loved one is adequate protection against dangerous drug side effects or interactions.
 
Here's an example: My mother had a seizure disorder for which her five-star neurologist often tried new medications. She’d been on just such a “latest and greatest” drug for about a week when she suddenly became extremely dopey. Her nurses and primary-care doctor just shrugged it off. Fortunately, I was freaked out enough to call her neurologist; he demanded that she be sent to the ER immediately, for cold-turkey removal from the drug without the mandatory weaning, because he considered her situation to be life-threatening.
 
That’s just one example; I could cite many more from what I’ve seen over the past 25 years.
 
So if you are a loved one’s court of last resort, remain on high alert for medication issues. Be willing to do the necessary homework. And get ready to sound the alarm far and wide whenever necessary.   

One of the sweetest things about being a nursing-home volunteer is seeing how the residents come to love one another, or at least look out for each other's well-being--often behind the backs of those in charge. We youngsters could probably all learn a lesson from them! Here's a scene illustrating that point from The Song of Sadie Sparrow.

Sadie Sparrow
Sunday, March 25
 
Sadie and Gladys brunched together on Sunday, enjoying a feast of fresh strawberries and blackberries, French toast with maple syrup, bacon that was every bit as crisp as any Sadie had ever had, as much orange juice as they wanted, and coffee that tasted like something you’d get at a fancy cafe.
           
Gladys shocked Sadie by calling the meal “good” and then shocked her again by pointing out that Marcia at Table Nine was on “the thick stuff.”
           
“Do you mean thickened liquids?” Sadie was ashamed that she’d let that subject slip to the back burner in recent days, her new spiritual life and time with Jamie being foremost on her mind.
          
“If that’s what you want to call it,” Gladys sniffed, “although I don’t know why you always have to make everything so complicated. Pretending to be something you’re not.”
           
“‘Thick stuff’ is just fine with me,” Sadie said, humbled by the rebuke. “So how did you find out?”
           
One of Gladys’s nicer traits was her willingness to leave a hurt behind. “Before you got here, I heard her complaining about it to the servers. But they wouldn’t help her. I think it’s a crime.”
           
“A crime?”
           
“Without a doubt.” Gladys lowered her voice and glanced back over her shoulders to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “It kills people, you know. If you don’t get enough to drink, you get fuzzy headed and then you die. I’ve seen it happen again and again.”
           
Gladys had lived at The Hickories for several years, and Sadie didn’t doubt that she knew a lot more than she let on.
           
“Have any of your—have you known anyone who’s been on it?”
           
Gladys eyed Sadie up before answering. “My friends, you mean? Were you assuming I haven’t had any friends here?”
           
“No, of course not, I just meant—”
           
“I’ll have you know that I’ve had plenty of friends here. It’s just that they’ve all died or gone home.”
           
“Of course you have.” Sadie felt her face flush; she’d been caught red-handed. She quickly changed gears. “So have any of them been on the thick stuff?”
           
“Yes, and they’ve all died within weeks, except for one. Her name was Ida—she lived next door to me. She survived for two years on the stuff, finally had a coronary.”
           
“Well, then, if Ida made it that long, maybe it’s not so bad after all,” said Sadie, hoping for a silver lining.
           
Gladys looked around for eavesdroppers again. “It’s not so bad if someone is sneaking you water and soda every day,” she whispered. “I kept her supplied.”
           
“Why Gladys,” Sadie whispered back, impressed. “You really do have a heart, don’t you?”
           
Gladys glared at her. “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

--The Song of Sadie Sparrow, pages  227-228