Honeymoon

The honeymoon is over! Inevitable, I suppose. Mom is regressing into her negative ways and I am bracing for another bumpy ride. She was in a sour mood yesterday. "I just stay in my room most of the time."

She complained about other residents taking food from her plate during meals, chocolates from her stash disappearing, her missing quilling tool. "I don't know why they have to move my things!" I became suspicious she was back to her old manipulative tricks when she said, "It's like a hospital here." (I have often told her I rejected facilities that were hospital like.)

To make matters worse, in three days she will be moved from her private room to a double. I had hoped she would get to stay in the private room longer, but Medicaid residents don't get those kind of perks and it was nice of them to let her move in and use it until a double became available. She recoiled at the news when I told her. It seemed prudent to talk with her about it; remind her that was the plan from the beginning.

In my dream world, I picture her happy and contented, grateful she gets to live in such a nice place and be well taken care of. Yet when I imagine what it is like for her, I am forced to recognize the immensity of what I am asking. Embarking on a new season in life is always challenging. In fact, I am in the midst of one since my husband retired earlier this year. It has thrown me for a loop; my world is upside down and I'm having trouble settling into a way of functioning with his 24/7 presence. How much more difficult must it be for my mother to leave behind her somewhat independent little life in the apartment over our garage and begin living with 10 strangers?

What a fate! Alzheimer's has forced our hand. She needs care. She can't live alone. There are two options: she lives with us or lives in assisted living. If she lives with us, I will grudgingly care for her, resentment will build as my life is sucked away little by little. She will leave this world feeling unloved. If she lives in assisted living, I will gladly spend time with her, delight in her. She will leave this world with a sense of being lovable and loved.

I will be there Monday for the big move with a prayer in my heart for Mom to find joy in the midst of circumstances beyond our control.


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Location:Gile Rd,Nottingham,United States

Guilt

They throw me off balance, hit me when I least expect them--the twinges of regret, the insecurity about my decisions. The GUILT. If I were a good daughter, I would take care of my mother. I would clear out the office, turn it back into her bedroom. Sacrifice my life to be here for her, no matter the cost. Images surface of managing her medications, overseeing her bathing, making her meals, doing her laundry, being unable to leave her alone for long periods of time. Putting her to bed, cleaning her dentures, repeating every sentence at least twice, sometimes thrice! Twenty-four-seven for who knows how many years. I know plenty of women do it. They make the sacrifice. Give up their lives to take care of their elderly parent.

It wouldn't be pretty in my home though. I wonder what it is really like behind closed doors for those who choose to make the sacrifice. It is crystal clear to me that I would go crazy! Mom would be a wedge in my marriage. Even if I were willing to sacrifice my life to take care of my mother, would it be fair to ask my husband to do it? And don't get me wrong, he is a gentle, loving soul. It's the stress of watching me slowly go crazy that would make it hard for him.

Mom is content at the Wellstone House. She feels good about herself. She is with people all day, every day. She freely gives and gets hugs. She is well taken care of--gets three meals and snacks whenever she wants, is bathed, and has clean clothes. She is liked and loved. It shows in her countenance. It doesn't escape me how endearing she is to me when I'm with her now. How proud I am of her ability to keep herself busy with her crochet hook, her quilling tools, and her pencils and paint brushes.

When the guilt hits and throws me off balance, I entertain it, examine it, and conclude I am taking the best care possible by providing such a wonderful home for her as Alzheimer's slowly steals her from herself and from me. There is an abiding sense of peace within my soul and my heart once again cries out, "Thank you God for leading us to this place."


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Location:Gile Rd,Nottingham,United States

Slip-Slipping

We spent one of our more sad family days today to say our final goodbyes to Mary who lost her six-year leukemia battle 7 days ago. Mom was ready to go when we picked her up. I knew the day would be challenging, but didn't anticipate just how much until we met Rich, Kim, Kyle, and Sean in the church parking lot and she didn't know who Kyle and Sean were. I thought I'd lose it there, before the funeral even began.

During the half hour wait for the service to begin, she was confused and childlike--clingy and fidgety, like a toddler. I think she knew it was Mary's funeral, but when she had no idea who her grandsons were and their children to whom she has sent monthly cards to for the past several years, it hit me just how quickly she is slipping away.

I noticed her pretending to know people, telling me she recognized someone's face as someone she knew, but just couldn't remember their name. Each time, I knew she could not be recognizing the face because it was someone she had never met in her life.

The day grew increasingly exhausting at the gathering after the funeral as I tended to Mom. I had to repeat things over and over. I couldn't leave her alone too long because she seemed to need to have me in sight. She wanted hugs from every male in the room. "My husband died a long time ago so I don't get man-hugs anymore!" she said to each one.

She said to Kimberly several times, "You look just like your mother!" However, Kim resembles Mom's daughter JoAnn, not Mary. I suspect Mom was having a hard time confusing JoAnn and Mary.

What must it be like to be with people you know you are supposed to know but don't recognize? And what will it be like when she doesn't recognize me any more?

I'm so glad Kim had a chance to visit her Great Grandmother yesterday. And it was special for Mom to see Kim walk into her room at the Wellstone House.





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Location:Gile Rd,Nottingham,United States

Broaches & Necklaces

Mom is happy in her new surroundings at Wellstone House. It shows in many ways. The blush on her cheeks, the broaches on her sweater, the necklaces around her neck all speak to me when I sit and visit. They tell me she feels attractive and like-able. She feels good about herself. It is clear she is well liked. I know she has much more socialization than she had at Peaceful Harvest and certainly more than she had living in the apartment over our garage. She brings it up nearly every time I visit. "I know you don't want me to come back and live with you." I always remind her it's about her safety, first and foremost. My heart aches for her in those moments though because I know how much she pines for her independence despite her obvious need for help.

Despite the positives, I still fight guilt. It usually attacks in the quiet moments of my day when my thoughts drift to Mom as I live my full life.




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