You Gave Them Your Account Number?

One day last week, Mom told me someone had been calling and bothering her. She didn't know who it was, but they said she had some money coming to her and they needed to deposit it directly to her checking account. They needed her account number. She told me this non-challantly as she continued to focus on her Bejeweled Blitz computer game.

"Mom, tell me you didn't give them your account number!" I will admit my volume and tone wasn't necessarily sweet.

"I didn't know what to do."

"Did you give them your account number?" I persisted.

"Yes."

"Your checking account number?" I felt my voice getting louder and could feel the blood rushing to my face.

"Yes Donna. What was I supposed to do? They said they needed it so they could give me the money." Her voice was now whiny and defensive. she still didn't take her eyes off her computer screen.

"Mom, please show me where you got the account number that you gave them."

She pulled herself away from the computer, walked into the living room and took her checkbook out of her purse. She opened the checkbook to an unused check and pointed to her checking account number on the bottom. "This is what I gave them."

I couldn't believe my eyes. I'm sure I screamed at her that I have told her and told her to never, ever give out that kind of information. She insisted she told them they needed to call me, but they called back several times and she didn't know what to do, so she finally gave it to them. I asked her if they wanted her password. "Yes, they asked me for my password and I told them I didn't have a password. They didn't believe me, but I told them over and over I didn't have one and they could call my daughter if they didn't believe me."

I breathed a little lighter, checked the caller ID and saw only one suspicious phone call. I wrote the number down, went back to my house and immediately called the bank's 800 number. I talked with a helpful young man who Googled the phone number and discovered it was listed in blogs where people had posted warnings about it even in the past 24-hour period that it was someone who lived in Brooklyn, NY scamming elderly people. He reassured me they wouldn't be able to do much without a password and if money was stolen, FDIC insurance would allow Mom to recoup her losses.

In the days since, I've kept a close eye on the account and it seems safe enough. It begs the question how such criminals know phone numbers of elderly people. Have they hacked into AARP's databases or work for AARP or some other organization that would give access to birth dates and phone numbers? It's a scary world and very confusing for someone like Mom.

The Perils of Haste

Running late for an 8:30 meeting this morning, I scrambled upstairs to get Mom's morning pills laid out for her. She came out of her bathroom just as I reached the top of her stairs. I could tell she had just showered and it became immediately obvious she didn't have her hearing aid in when I tried to express I was in a hurry as she continued to want to talk at me. I grabbed her pill case, dumped the pills into the recycled plastic pudding-container-turned-pill-dispenser.
"I'm running late. Be home around lunchtime," I yelled into her right ear as I closed the gate behind me and made a bee-line to my idling car.
She mumbled something about how she could have gotten her pills herself. However, too many times we have done that and she takes her evening pills in the morning. Better that I get out her pills.
So tonight, I went over to give her her evening pills and lo and behold, I had given them to her this morning! Arrrrgh! When I confessed what I had done, she laughed, "Hey, guess I'm not the only one who gets confused."

This Brain of Mine

When I brought Mom's mail up to her after my walk this afternoon she told me that right after I had told her I was leaving for my walk, she heard people singing outside. She opened her skylight window so she could see down into the driveway thinking I was there with some people. Of course, no one was there. She said she sat down in her rocking chair and decided to sing along with them since she knew the song. We both laughed.

"I guess this brain of mine isn't much good any more, is it!"

"It's definitely the Alzheimer's, Mom. Remember Dr. Vadalia said some people hear voices, but as long as its not scaring you or freaking you out, he'd rather not give you medication. I know it must be so hard for you."

Before I left, she asked me how I enjoyed the show last night. I knew she was referring to the Monster Truck Show at the Verizon Wireless Arena. She and I had had a couple of conversations about how John was going with Brian, Logan, Caroline, and Ava; how I would be gone all day because I planned to stick around in case Logan didn't want to stay like last year. John reminded her of the plan when he left the house as well. When she asked how I enjoyed the show, I stopped myself from saying, "I told you I didn't go." Instead, I simply told her again that I hadn't gone; that I had stayed in Manchester in case Logan freaked out and needed to leave.

"Oh, I thought you went with them," said Mom. It was as if it was the first time she had heard about it.

Phantom Visits

One of the side effects of the Alzheimer's medication, Aricept, is vivid dreams. When Mom first went on the Aricept almost a year ago, we had to switch her from an evening dose to a morning dose because of that side effect. However, she still tells me about some very realistic dreams.

When I went up this morning at 8:30 to get out her morning pills, she asked me if John had been up to her place earlier. Considering he was still sound asleep in our bed, I assured her he hadn't been up there. She said she woke up at six-something, she wasn't exactly sure of the time, but there was a six on her clock. She decided to stay in bed a few more minutes and woke up again sometime after 7:00. She heard John come up; even said "good mornin'." When she climbed out of bed, her bathroom door was closed and she thought John was in there. She waited and waited for him to come out. She had to pee so badly, she finally knocked on the door to discover no one was in her bathroom.

I once again reassured her that John does not go up to her apartment early in the morning.

"Well, I thought if he was in the garage and had to pee or something, he might come up here instead of going over to your house."

"No Mom. He wouldn't do that." And I was honestly at a loss for words beyond that.

Before I left, she recalled she had shut her bathroom door last night because of the stream of moonlight illuminating her bathroom and keeping her awake.

What's That Beeping?

At 7:30, I decided to go up to Mom's apartment and set out her evening pills. I could tell I had awakened her from deep sleep in her recliner when she gave me a startled look and said, "So did you give her a ride home?" I wasn't sure what she was talking about. "Oh, is she still here?" She glanced around the room and looked to see if someone was sitting at her kitchen table. I waited to let her get fully awake. She looked back at me waiting for my answer. But I continued my silence. "For goodness' sake. Of course she went home." Our neighbor, Sandy, visits Mom many weekday afternoons and today she had spent three hours and painted a picture with Mom. We agreed Sandy had walked home a few hours ago and Mom realized she had been sleeping when I came in.

"So, did you eat your supper? What did you have?" I asked. She always eats at 5:00 whether she is hungry or not, but I didn't see any evidence that she had eaten.

"Uh huh." Ignoring my question, she said, "Did you see my painting? It's over there." She pointed to where it was propped up against the end table near her bed. I moved closer to see it and heard something beeping. I stopped and looked around, but it stopped. I thought it must have been coming from an ad on the television. We discussed her picture for a few moments and I proceeded to close her curtains against the cold dark outside and get her pills. She returned to her recliner. Then I heard the beeping again. I looked at the microwave and realized it was making the noise. I found her dinner still sitting there and cooled to room temperature.

I pulled the container full of beans and hot dogs, held it up for her to see, and said, "Looks like you forgot to eat your supper, Mom."

"Well, guess I did. I put it in the microwave and sat down to wait for it. Guess I fell asleep!"

I reheated it. As she ate it, she said, "I would have gone to bed thinking I'd had my supper!"

I was reminded that someone told me recently that sometimes people with Alzheimer's forget to eat or forgot they ate and eat again!