Saturday, April 26, 2014 

Long day yesterday. Walked the pups as usual with Betty; fed them; went to the gym, Sam’s Club for mom’s supplies, the gas station, the bank, and then market to pick up my raw milk and a few other things. Sat with my friend RB at market for a few minutes to say hello before heading back home to take care of mom. Long morning would presage a much longer day. 

Received a phone call from T about my patient in Pottstown. Apparently L fell out of bed and was untended for a few minutes the night before. She has not been the same since and no longer screams in anger, but attempts to scream in pain. Had an medical appointment I could not break. Plan was to return to Pottstown and see to L. Made the necessary arrangements and phone calls. Mia, head CNA on the case, will meet me there. Hours later, I arrived in Pottstown. L did not look or sound well. Alerted her son we must call 911, and so we were off. Long night at the hospital, pouring rain. L’s son does not tolerate electro-magnetic fields (EMFs) well. Is seeking to build something, somewhere where he can escape them. Apparently, Maine, Maryland, and California are the only states left where you can do this. He is thinking of Maryland. I am thinking his glory will be short-lived. 

X-rays normal. Son refused a CT scan—for obvious reasons (mother also does not like EMFs, but mother is seriously demented at 96 years old and cannot make any decisions for herself; although, she repeatedly says she wants to die. For some reason, she is being made to stay around.) Took a supper break at Cheryl’s, returned to the hospital. It was now pouring rain. Long, dark drive home ahead of me. Hoping mom and pups are OK and that Rob is not too burdened. 

Got home at 11:30 pm. Will be following up with patient later this morning, taking the pups for a walk, feeding them, starting my day all over again.

Monday, April 21, 2014

Up early. Off to the gym. Then to walk the pups. Found Rob and Betty in the process of walking the kids. Rob was so tired, I sent him back home to rest. Returned home and then to work. Deadline tomorrow night. Mom was up when I returned home from the gym. No rest for the weary. Calls while I worked from Mark D. (the clinic is in need of new shrubs), Bob H. (question about an abstract I put together), and Betty (Charlie is fixing the leak and she’s getting a new sink in the process). So I took an enforced break. Had some tea and some raisin bread—speaking of which, there was a hard boiled egg in one of them. An Easter design, just like my grandmother Guiseppina (dad’s mom) used to make. I asked mom if she remembered dad’s mom. She does not. Then I asked her if she remembered her own mother. She does not. Says it was too long ago. How sad it must be not to remember your own mother.

Easter Sunday, April 20, 2014 

No church this morning. Instead, I attended Eugene Abramovicz’s burial. Eugene was 86 years old, and was a survivor of Mohs concentration camp on the Rhine during WWII. He was snatched out of school at an early age and made to clean up Berlin (as part of his work with other boys). The Nazis called him “Israel,” and the name stuck. He said he helped clean up Berlin stone by stone. Because he spoke fluent German, English, and Hebrew, he was eventually hired by the American army—probably as an interpreter. Eugene did earn his high school diploma when he reached this country. We used to greet each other at market with a “Grüß Gott,” answered by “Wenn du ihn siest!” (Aber nicht so bald!) I will miss my friend. I shoveled dirt over his coffin along with the rest of the mourners. I noticed the stones on the tombstones and asked Jake about them. Here was his reply: 

All of our lives we pursue worldly goods. Years ago, crockery was considered symbolic of worldly wealth and the Jews would smash a bowl or teapot made of crockery or some other precious material and place the shards on headstones. This is to symbolize that in the end, after all of our pursuit of worldly goods, we, as well as our “worldly goods,” return to dust. 

Today, we replace the “expensive” crockery with stones. The fact that some people and in all honesty, it includes me, place stones on the graves of “others”, is a courtesy. I do it because I do not want people visiting my friends upon whose gravestones I have placed stones, only to see other nearby monuments devoid of stones. It is somewhat like saying hello to the roommate of a friend we may be visiting in the hospital. We do not want to give any other visitor the idea that someone is forgotten. 

I will go back soon to place stones on Eugene’s tombstone and gravesite, and perhaps to other gravesites nearby. I will say hello in this lifetime. Who knows but that I might be greeted by these souls in the next lifetime.

Later– 

Easter dinner at Cheryl’s: Roast leg of lamb and mint jelly, scalloped potatoes, asparagus, tossed salad (my dressing), and a lemon tort (mine). The tort was quite a piece of work. It was doing beautifully in the oven when the cookie sheet I had under it warped seriously, spilling the contents of my tort all over my stove. I had to lift it out carefully, attempting not to lose much more of the contents, and replace the horrid cookie sheet with a more reliable one. My sided pans were not large enough to accommodate the 11” removable bottom tart pan I used. Quite a job to manage. Spilled quite a bit, but had some reserve filling. Was good, but quite tart. Next time I make it, will reduce the lemon juice by half!

Saturday, April 19, 2014 

Betty and I walked the pups, but not before I listened to Yuja Wang play the Kreuzer Sonata, among other things, on YouTube. What a way to start the day—listen to an extraordinarily talented and energetic young woman, who also happens to be a fashion icon. Oh well, God has ordained other things for me. 

Got back from the lovely walk, where some of the daffodils survived the onslaught of the frigid temps; fed the pups; then tended to mom. I read Betty’s Easter card to mom, who thought the card was for me. Betty also parted with a favorite shirt that mom used to like. She thought mom would like it for herself. After her sojourn in the bathroom, mom stopped by the hall mirror. She had remembered that today was the day she would get her haircut and color. I think I should get a different color. Don’t you think I should? This from a woman who does not remember and denies that she has been living here for nearly a year (Oh no, I just got here!). She does not know that I am her daughter, nor that this is my house. (Yesterday, she attributed it to Margie.) But mom knows what she wants to wear and how she wants to look. “Vanity is the flatterer of the soul.” 

Later—

Took mom to a beauty salon nearby. Nice not to have to drive 45 minutes to Pottstown or elsewhere for a change. Then off to do some banking, to Office Depot, and Sam’s Club (more mom supplies). Then off to pick up mom. Apparently, I am still her “sister.” Seems I have lost my status as daughter. Later, I asked mom if she liked her hair: Why? I didn’t have anything done to my hair? Then she touched it and felt the spray and curls. Oh, I forgot. [laughter] 

I finally finished editing part of a large job. Am wiped out! And I have to bake a tart for tomorrow. Oy! 

Good Friday, April 18, 2014 

Yesterday, I received the message at market at Eugene Abramowicz had died. Eugene was a survivor of the Holocaust. He spoke often about his experiences, much to the dismay of his brother, Alex, who felt the past should be put way behind. But I think Eugene was right: We need to keep the candle of his experience and his life burning for as long as possible, because we know this can happen again. Eugene and others his age (~10 years old) were made strong when they were ordered to clean the war-devastated streets of Berlin—rock by rock. I will miss talking with him and seeing him at market. His number is the first on my caller ID. I see if often and am reminded of him. I shall not erase it. May my friend rest in peace at long last. Today marks the crucifixion and death of Our Lord and Savior. I mourn, but I rejoice in knowing that someday, we shall all rise again. 

Yesterday, we told mom that she would finally be getting her hair cut and colored on Saturday at 1:00 pm. Apparently she worried about this all night long. At 7:00 this morning, she was up and holding a pair of Depends and her stocking, asking what she should wear. I assured her that her appointment was for tomorrow, not today, and bade her go back to bed. There are some things she remembers and clings to when she is still capable of remembering.

Thursday, April 16, 2014 

Last night, my neighbor Barbara and I went to a discussion about Alzheimer’s and dementia over at Rittenhouse, a local nursing facility. I wasn’t sure I would learn anything new, but I was wrong. Nothing new about the disorders themselves, but I did learn a bit about how to handle mom. I had intended to take her with me to Cheryl’s for Easter. How great to celebrate the holidays together, but when I heard the other women talk about that time when their parent wants to “go home,” I was taken aback. Mom was always nervous about getting home before dark, hurrying to be home. Apparently now it has more to do with the dementia and not feeling comfortable in their surroundings and seeking to back back to where they are more familiar. Rob protested, saying that she likes to see baby Lucas, Steve, and Jamie. But I told him that her efforts to make conversation are ways of hiding her confusion. She really doesn’t know them, nor does she remember ever being at Cheryl’s house (Were you ever here before? Rarely does she ask if she had ever been here before. This is a way to mask confusion. Somewhere in there might lurk the memory or a memory, but ever so unclear.)

So I am making plans for someone to come here and sit with mom while we have Easter dinner. Of course I will feel guilty, but my own feelings do not reflect where my mother is. And that’s the key to dealing with demented patients—trying to understand where they are, not where you think they are. 

Betty and I walked the pups this morning as usual at 7:00 am. When I returned, mom was watching television. This is highly uncharacteristic. She usually sleeps until around 9:30 or 10:00. Beside that, she was able to turn the television on despite the myriad buttons and choice of two remotes. I was momentarily heartened, until she spoke:

Whose house is this?
It’s my house, mom. But it’s your now, too.
Oh, I thought it was Margie’s house. (This is mom, masking her ignorance.) How long have I lived here?
Nearly a year, mom. You came last June. You were here through the summer, the fall, and the long, cold winter.
Oh no, I wasn’t here that long. Where’s my house? Has it been sold?
Yes, mom (my heart sinks—I try not to cry). It was sold.
Oh. I didn’t think I lived here that long. (I touch her face.) Oh your hands are so cold.
I was outside walking the pups and it’s cold out there.
Go put your hands under hot water. Go ahead. Hurry now.
OK mom.

She’s still my mom! 

She’s still my mother from time to time. But I am not sure she knows I am her daughter, even though I remind her diligently. I want so much for her to know me. I want so much to avoid that moment when she doesn’t know me at all. I am not sure I could bear it. I listened to others talk about it last night, but it was terribly hard and also terribly foreign. I think mom still knows me, but she does refer to my father as “her husband” and my brother as “her son.” Sometimes I think that works me out of the equation. Sometimes. But I still hope, while I have a little hope. 

Have a new job. Just came in last night. Huge and it’s due on Tuesday EOD. On top of that, I have two short articles to edit for Linda. Doing those first. Mom keeps calling me. She wanted to tell me that Rob is good to her. I need to go in and see her. She’s still lying in bed, but she needs to tell me things. I must listen. Mom needs company. She asks what I am doing. I tell her I am working. She tells me to go back to work. Oh, OK, you go ahead. She’s disappointed that I cannot stay and chat with her about how Rob does the dishes or about how quiet the dogs were this morning. (The heck they were! Today is garbage day again!) 

Back to editing. I can’t find my sweater. So cold in this office. Below freezing during our walk. But I cannot take the time to look for it and chance letting the pups out of my office, so I put on my parka. At least they are quiet and I am a bit more comfortable.

Monday, April 14, 2014 

Mom is having a tough morning. I was with her earlier, then took the dogs for a walk with Aunt Betty. We saw “Uncle” Doug and Kahlua and “Uncle” Dick, who fed them their treats. The bugs were out in force this morning, probably because of the coming rain. Otherwise, a beautiful morning. “Uncle” Joe was getting his super-duper riding mower ready for his first go-round. Daffodils all over the place. And my pink star magnolia is in full bloom. This year I might trim the bottom and make it look more like a tree. (It’s fully 20-feet high.) But then again, maybe I won’t. I can see my beautiful tree from my office window as I type. Next in line, my redbud. Can’t wait. Bought another redbud last year. A smaller variety that changes leaf color throughout the season. Ah, glorious spring! 

When I returned, I heard mom stirring. Thought I could get the pup’s breakfast ready before she reached the bathroom again. No luck. Mom was quick this trip. She strains something awful, but refuses to drink water. Back to MiraLax, but it won’t work this quickly. She missed her dose yesterday. So I put it in cranberry juice and gave it to her while she sat earlier. Back to the dogs, who are waiting for their morning yogurt. 

First thing mom does in the bathroom is to close the window. It’s too cold. You had the window opened! She sits, I go back to tend to the dogs. Mom is calling me, begging for help. But there is little I can do. She seems to think that if I wipe her continually, it will help. No deal. Sit! Finish! Then I will come in. She calls and cries out for me while I am dishing out the dogs’ yogurt. I give them each three teaspoons-full: first to Lucy, then to Val, and so on. After the third teaspoon, it’s a “licky” each. Dog dishes in the sink, back to mom.

I take care of mom and she is off to bed again. It’s only 8:00 am, and grooming day for one of the dogs. They’re scheduled on two consecutive days. And tomorrow, we are supposed to have torrential rains. Val is the best candidate for today, as he does not like to go out in the rain. Then I will run over to the gym until Val is ready to be picked up.

Bathroom window is opened. Fan is going. Later I will open mom’s bedroom windows and sit her on the porch, where the screens are not yet in. It’s quite warm out there. She protested yesterday that her room was too cold and made me close the windows. Does not portend well for the summer. It was quite warm in her room and it desperately needed airing. If need be, I will keep her sweaters on hand for when the A/C is on. 

It is 8:19 am, and I feel as though I have put in a day’s work! Time for my own breakfast.

Later—

Dropped Lucy off at the groomer, much to her dismay. Stopped at the post office, where I mailed most of my savings to the Feds, then, on to the gym, where I was the youngest person there, barring one fellow apparently in his 20s. Most of the women were in their 80s. Well, at least I know I will fit right in 20 years or so. Just got the call to pick up Lucy. Off I go again! Heavy rains tomorrow. Must get as much as I can done today. Also need to drive to Pottstown. My patient needs supplies. I feel as though I am back at the gym. Don’t call me now, mother!