Tuesday and Wednesday, August 12–13, 2014

 There is no understanding how mom’s mind works, or doesn’t work. She will ask, Where were you?

You don’t remember seeing me this morning?

Oh yeah. (translation: No)

I took you to the bathroom twice and gave you clean panties (translation: Diapers)

Oh yeah. (translation: No)

 

Later–

Where is Rob? I haven’t seen him all day.

He just made you toast and coffee.

Oh yeah. (translation: Oh yeah?)

 

How does mom even remember that there is a Rob! She never remembers seeing him or being in his presence.

 

Where are the dogs?

They’re sleeping.

Oh yeah.

 

Later:

Rob, where are the dogs? Sleeping?

Yes.

I can’t believe it. (Another frequent comment and an old standby.) 

How does mom even remember there are dogs?

 

Later: 

When we go to the hairdresser, her overwhelming concern remains paying me for the hairdresser’s bill. She remembers she has a bank account. She knows she must pay for the work, but she never recalls having been to the hairdresser before.

Have you ever been here before?

No, but you have been here several times.

Oh yeah. (translation: Really?) I need to go to the bank to get my money.

Don’t worry mom. You don’t need to go to the bank.

But I have to get my money. I have to pay you back.

No, mom. You don’t have to do anything of the sort.

 

Each time we travel to Cheryl’s house:

Have you ever been here before?

Yes, mom, and so have you. Many times.

Oh yeah. (translation: Really?)

 

When she sees Cheryl and Bob again:

It’s been so long since I last saw you? How are you? You look wonderful. (These are mom’s usual comments, even though she will have seen Cheryl recently.) Is this your father?

No, he’s my husband. (For some reason, mom never remembers meeting Bob. But she seems to remember Cheryl. Then again, there’s no telling…)

A few days after seeing Cheryl and Bob again, mom asked

Who was that man, Rob?

What man?

That man who was here yesterday?

She’s talking about Bob, Rob. She thinks he was here only yesterday, not two days before. Mom has her days mixed up.

 

On giving mom something to drink

Oh, I can’t drink all of this. You take some.

No, mom. Drink half of it now and then drink the other half later.

(Mom laughs) This means mom doesn’t understand a word I said.

Mom, listen to me. Drink… half… of… it… now. And then later… drink the other half.

You have some.

No, mom. Save it for later.

(Mom laughs)

Mom, listen. Drink what you can.

And then, I know…

You know what?

Have some, won’t you?

No. I said to save it for later.

I’m not this thirsty. Have some with me.

Oh my, mom, you are as deaf as a doornail.

(Mom laughs) Mom hasn’t got a clue!

 

Took mom to the shoe store. The podiatrist and the chiropractor suggested that she should have new shoes. Frankly, I never though to look at the heels of her shoes. The shoes were practically brand new and she wears them so rarely. But the heels were worn unevenly. (The doctors have also recommended that she wear shoes in the house for increased stability.) 

So, we went to a local shoe store that sold SAS (San Antonio Shoes). I have a thing about buying American. I ordered her shoes and then we took a trip to the supermarket. I made mom walk without my help from the parking lot to the store. She asked for help, but I refused and wanted to see if she would/could use her cane. She was quite unsteady, but made it. I was always only inches away. At the grocers, I made mom wheel the cart. She did so with great ease. 

See how easy it would be if you used a walker, mom?

I know. I always use a walker. (Mom has steadfastly refuses to use a walker. She doesn’t even use her cane. She carries it, but it rarely hits the ground!)

Mom, you have never used a walker in your life.

I know. I do. (There’s logic in there somewhere.) 

As we leave the store, Miss Queen Bee asked if I would drive the car up to the door of the market.

No way, mom. You need the exercise. I deliberately parked away from the entrance to give you the chance to walk outside.

 

Later when we returned home—where mom has lived for more than a year, she asked, Is this your house?

Yes, it is mom. It’s yours, too. You live here with me.

Oh, it’s nice. What a nice place you have.

Well, this is the kitchen where you have your breakfast every morning.

Oh, I know.

Do you want to go to your room to watch television?

This is nice, Sandy. Where do I go?

You go back there.

Oh yeah.

I guess this will never be mom’s home. Her heart is still in New Jersey. She asks, as we drive, are we still in Pennsylvania. And I assure her each time,

Yes, we are.

This is nice! How do they keep it so clean?

 

 

Monday, August 11, 2014

Nice day yesterday. Had company, but mom wasn’t terribly interested until they had been here a few hours. I finally coaxed her out onto the porch, where she greeted Cheryl as she usually does: I haven’t seen you in so long. How have you been?

It’s one of those all-purpose greetings that serves those with bad/no memories well. But it sufficed. Mom sat next to Cheryl, smiled a lot—not hearing well, and had a good meal. 

I read this morning how a physician had family and friends called his mother on her birthday. She had been failing, but the calls seemed to have an ameliorative effect on her. The woman perked up and found strength. So I have decided to have a Mom Day and invite some family members to call her and say hello. Of course, her birthday in December is a natural day for such an endeavor, but I don’t want to wait that long. I will be sure to include Ann, mom’s former caregiver, and hope she can get to a phone between caregiving on her current job. Mom might not know who everyone is, but she will at least have had several calls and heard several different voices all in the same day. Changes of scenery—even if only from bedroom to porch, voices of friends and family—even if you aren’t sure who they are, can have a huge positive effect. Am hoping this will work and break up mom’s day. Trick is to find such a day. I need to be available at the phones, too, and this is one busy month for me. Well, onward and onward (at mom’s age, there is very little upward movement).