I haven't been around here lately. I have been busy. I peek in occasionally, read, make sure everyone is "playing nice" and leave. I have modified my work schedule and am now on 4 10 hour shifts so I can have Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off. I usually spend my Friday doing the bulk of the family shopping for the week, some laundry, the day's dinner, and visiting Tom's Mom.
If you have been around for awhile, you are aware of the fact that Tom's Mom has Alzheimer's. Some days are "OK" and some days are, well, pretty miserable. Today was a crappy day for Mom. She fell out of bed. You see, she doesn't remember that she cannot walk anymore. When you talk to her, she will tell you she spent her day cooking, or moving, or working in the garden. But, alas, she has done none of those things. She spends her days in a locked ward, where we have to enter a code to gain entrance to her world. A world she doesn't know, she never remembers she has a room there, little alone which room is hers. She is cold all the time and frequently bundled in another resident's sweater. Because she doesn't know who's clothing is who's, so it must all be hers.
Today I found her in bed. After an x-ray, verifying that all bones were where they belonged and not broken. She is sad. And tired. Yesterday she told Tom's Dad that she wanted to die. And I would think that if it were me, and in the brief moments of clarity, I would feel the same. Words are hard for her, some days. And in times like that, she and I just sit and hold hands. She calls me her friend, a nice lady. And in these moments she knows I love her and wish her well.
I wish I could make her future brighter, easier, and warmer. I wish I could take away the pain and the forgetfulness and bring back the feisty little old lady who didn't particularly care for me, when I first met her son. But I can't.
So, for now, I will hold her hands to keep her warm. Be her friend, a nice lady. And listen to the stories about all the dead relatives who visited her just this afternoon. It is the best I can do. It is the LEAST I can do.
T
T, how very sad and poignant, and how wonderful "her friend, a nice lady" remembers to visit her, even when she doesn't remember.
ReplyDeletesweetie, the extent to which you and swan have "adopted" my Mom thrills and amazes me. She is so desperately in need and so confused and ill.
ReplyDeleteMy Mom, a lady who was the first woman claims adjustor in the Untied States during World War II. My Mom the woman who only 9 years ago, driving home from the hospital visiting my Dad on a snowy evening, in her big old "blue hair special Buick" was side-swiped by a semi-truck mangling the side of her car. The trucker did not stop. My Mom then79 and barely able to see over the dash board of her huge car, ran down the semi-truck. She ran the truck off the road and demanded the trucker get down out of his cab and phone the police on his new fangled cell phone thing. Now picture a 5 ft 1 inch, 79 year-old, very scoliosed fidget with flames shooting from her eyes demanding the trucker alight from his cab and call the police to turn himself in. The more amazing aspect is.......HE DID!!!! I of course, have no surprise in this. He's lucky that besides reporting it to the police and being cited numeroulsy for his mistakes, that he didn't get the licking of his life.
But that provides some context to this story of my Mom who had come to be adopted by my t. Now as she has alluded to, when t and I were first together during my separation leading to my divorce, my Mom was an absolute witch to t. She hated my divore and wanted nothing to do with another woman in my life. But time and marraige did mellow things and t's and my Mom's relationship had warmed and grown more loving even before my Mom's cognition was lost.
Today it is my t who usually does her laundry, and keeps her supplied with clean clothes, visits her and holds her hands and nods sweetly and appreciatively at whatver delusional blathering she offers. My sue visits her too and assists in all these roles. They both always make sure that I never visit her alone. Some visits are fine and other are dreadful and I leave in tears (god to read this Blog the last few days you'd think my life was one continual "crying jag"). It helps so much to have one (or both like last week when we installed a Christmas tree in my Mom's room) of my loves with me.
I don't know if we'll still have my Mom for this Christmas. I'm pretty sure we won't have her for next (although I've said that for the last 8 Christmas's). I don't know if what I fear more is that she will die or that she will live. But I know, no matter what comes that my dad and I will be loved and supported as lovingly as can be, by these two glorious women.
I love you both so much. Mores & mores my t. Mine always and all ways my swan.
Thank you beyond all words for the life saving love you've both brought me and my family.
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.