Monday, May 5, 2014 

Awoke early to walk the pups. Betty and I complained about the high winds. Where are they coming from? Still, I am gardening. At least until the work pours in again. Had to run to the eye doctor for a checkup. Worried that mom would awake before I got home. She had. No damage done. I showered her as soon as she finished her breakfast.

Every time I heard someone at the bathroom door, I rushed over. It was Rob each time. He was at the basement door, then the bathroom door, then the cupboard. Each time, I interrupted my work to check.

Spent time on Jake’s book today. Had to do some heavy checking. Everything was fine. We thought several passages were missing. They had just been highly edited and obscurely placed.

Mom called throughout the day, each time causing me to stop my Japanese CDs.

Kuruma ga ugokanai desu.
Sandy?
(Stop the CD, go into her room) Everything OK, mom?
Yes, where is everybody. I didn’t see Rob all day.
He made you breakfast and coffee this morning and sat with you.
Oh yeah. I know.
Busu de wa…
Sandy?
Stop CD, go into her room) Yes, mom?
What are you doing?
Working, mom.
Won’t you sit with me?
I can’t mom. I have to work.
Where are you?
In my office. Right behind this wall.
Oh yeah. That’s right.
Rai shu tenisu ga dekimasu ka?
Sandy?
(Stop CD, go into her room) What mom?
Where is everybody? I didn’t see anybody all day?
Well, I bathed you a little while ago. And I brought you chocolates.
Oh yeah.

This went on for a while. I made mom some lunch, then showered her again. Brought her something cold to drink. Feeling bad. Missed the gym today. Need to go tomorrow definitely.

Back to my CDs. Working my way through inch by inch or is it minute by minute. I even dream in Japanese. Well, sort of. I dream of words and phrases and cannot figure out what they mean. But sometimes I add Japanese words and phrases in conversation with non-Japanese figures in my dream. Either way, conversation is not really possible. But it’s fun.

Sandy?
What mom?
What are you doing?
No much, mom.
Oh. Won’t you sleep with me.
No, mom. You need to sleep by yourself. You’ll be more comfortable that way.
Oh no. My bed is so big. (It’s a twin.)
No, mom. It’s a small bed and there isn’t room enough for both of us.
But I can move over.
No, mom.

It’s tough being firm. But there is no other way. I made the mistake only once of saying I would sleep with her, thinking she would not remember. But she did and clung to it all day long. When I didn’t join her at night, she protested: But you said you would. Selective memory. She knows what she wants. But this would not be good. I recall the story from the dementia meeting at Rittenhouse, where a daughter slept with her mother every night. She eventually moved her mother to a nursing home, but could not keep her mother there. The mother would stay up all night long and cry because she missed sleeping with her daughter. Dangerous move it turns out.