I know that the tasks that my father has undertaken are overwhelming to him sometimes. Was it a year ago that he said to me, "I can't stay. I just can't handle this any more." He spoke of another man in town whose wife became wheelchair-bound and was moved to a nursing facility. When he couldn't handle things any more, that man told his wife he wanted a divorce. Dad said thought the woman had Alzheimer's and he thought the man was wrong, but this day Dad wasn't so sure.
I corrected him about what was wrong with the man's wife, Multiple Sclerosis, not Alzheimer's. And I reminded him that wedding vows are about sickness and health til death. I don't have much respect for that man now. If he thought the MS was inconvenient for him, how did he think his wife felt? Nobody gave her a choice. She didn't get to say "Sure, that's what I want." She doesn't have the option of getting up and walking away. She is a prisoner in that wheelchair through no choice of her own. And HE wanted a divorce? Sorry. I shouldn't be judging anyone. But I don't understand how he could abandon her that way. The message that I got was, "I love you as long as you can walk and talk and make love and cook for me and clean for me and take care of me. but I won't love you any more when you can't do anything for yourself any more because I just can't take it."
Dad decided to stay when I was finished. "Mom always stood beside you no matter what."
But the burden is getting greater for him as Mom's condition progresses. And he is growing more frail himself. And my brother said, "You can't put your life on hold to take care of Mom and Dad," and I am thinking, "Someone has to. What other options are there?"
Summer is here. This is the last week of school. There are Little League baseball games to attend. A college student to help get everything set for her to go to live on the campus in the fall. Stories and articles to write. Parents to spend days with to help them enjoy quality of life for the rest of their days.
My husband couldn't keep up with the rapid fire thoughts that my mouth couldn't even keep up with. He said, "I'm starting to worry about you." The remark made me angry. "You don't have to worry about me," I answered. But further down the street I said, "Yes, you do! Maybe you SHOULD be worrying about me." I listed a ton of things I'm responsible for and how little help I get with things that my family could do to help me cover all of my bases. And I was amazed for the rest of the day as he made efforts to be concerned about me, to help me. Oh, that he would do that every day.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
I don't know why...
Dad called. Mom had a lump on the left side of her head, just behind her ear. She thought she was getting another one on the other side. He'd been trying to get through to the doctor's office, but kept getting a redial message. I called and set up an appointment for 2:45. "I'll meet you there," I told him.
I don't know how they got past me. I was sitting in the parking lot waiting...and writing. That explains how I missed them. When I open that notebook and begin to write I lose sight of everything else. I get lost in my work. I looked up and saw the car. Doggone it! I hurried inside.
I peeked over the counter and asked, "OK. What did you do with my mother?"
"Probably the room at the end of the hall." Kelly laughed and pointed.
"Thanks." A good rapport with the staff at the doctor's office is important. I can think of times when I was so frazzled by so much responsibility--job outside the home, family to take care of, endless chore lists for a large family--there was so much that one little wrench thrown into the works could topple me. This humorous moment was a welcome one.
"Ah-ha! You thought you could slip past me, huh?" I greeted Mom, Dad and Gina, the nurse.
When Gina had finished with the statistical data--blood pressure, pulse, temperature, etc.--she left the three of us alone. Mom looked up at me. I could plainly see she was glad to see me. A slight pang of guilt struck me. I'm still spreading myself thin trying to take care of the people I love. Just because the youngest are now 20 doesn't mean that my life isn't busy. I keep asking myself how I had time to do everything I do and still work outside the home a minimum of 40 hours a week!
Mom said, "I don't understand why I got Alzheimer's."
I looked back at her and answered quietly, "I don't know, either, Mom." I didn't add how difficult it is to see her so frail. She always was so sharp. I keep saying that! I need to be there more. I need to go up and walk with her every day. But there are so many other things I'm trying to do. So many other places I need to be also. I'm trying to get those things taken care of while I can...but my mother needs me, too. She is dependent on her family to get her out of the house. She says she can still drive, but we all know that her driving days are over. And I'm thinking that it's time to remove the Internet from her computer, to save the money that she's paying for the service.
But though I should be there for her, I became overwhelmed when I fell so short. And I stopped going up to their house all the time. That was a stark difference from earlier on when Mom didn't want me to be there all the time because she was perfectly able to take care of herself, she said. In retrospect, I thought when the diagnosis was made that meant I needed to be on top of everything right then. But the process has been a gradual thing, a subtle thing. But when your brain is tired, or you are too close to the situation, it's hard to distinguish where the lines are and when you've crossed over them.
And I think about Dad...how he's taking so much of the responsibility for Mom's care...how they ask for so little.
But my brother told me I can't put my life on hold for our parents. But someone has to keep an eye on them. Someone has to be on the inside to understand what is going on and get help for them when they need it. They have to have someone they can trust. And they don't have friends. I tried to talk Mom into going to Senior Citizens but she wouldn't go. I tried to talk them into going to the Elderly Nutrition site to have dinner with other senior citizens, but they won't go.
Several months ago I was visiting. We were talking. Mom said, "I think God is mad at me."
"Why?" I was puzzled by that concept. Why would God be mad at my mother? This woman who has done the best she could with what she had...often not enough to work with. This woman who had been deaf for a number of years--never heard her babies cry...she felt us cry...but never gave up on God. She always knew when the time was right he would heal her ears. And he did. This woman who, when her sister accused her of not executing their mother's estate fairly, still executied it fairly, evenly divided everything so all five got an equal share. This woman who has always done the best she knew how...Why would God be angry with her?
"I haven't gone to his house. It says in the Bible that we're supposed to go to God's house and I haven't for a long time."
The idea puzzled me since I learned ages ago that each of us is a temple of God. He lives within us, so we are in him and he in us all the time. The church building isn't anything but a meeting place for those who believe the same.
"I don't think that's right, Mom. I don't know how God feels about you, but my best guess is that he's not mad at you. But if you want to go to church, you can go. I'll even stop and pick you up if you want me to."
She hasn't gone yet. Maybe it's time for me to call Saturday night to remind them of church. Then call them Sunday morning when I get up so they can get ready, and then leave early enough that I can go to their house and walk them to church. That will require my being less selfish and self-centered in the mornings.
I treasure my mornings at the computer. The window is in front of me, behind my desk so I can see the world as I work...the trees on the hillside across the creek, separated from me by all of the houses and garages between here and the Middle Fork of Little Beaver Creek. And when I'm writing I lose all track of time and place. I get lost in my work because I enjoy it so much. And it has worth. And it completes me, something my husband doesn't seem to grasp. something that hurts him somehow.
"I don't know why I got Alzheimer's," Mom said. Maybe it was God's way of giving her family notice that we need to be a family again instead of letting time and space get between us. We don't know each other any more. But this event in our matriarch's life is bringing us back to center. But how do I explain that to her? How do I explain that to anyone? Maybe I should just accept it as a gift and not say anything...just enjoy the nurturing and be a nurturer. And when will everyone accept that this is more important than dollars and cents?
Am I even making sense?
I don't know how they got past me. I was sitting in the parking lot waiting...and writing. That explains how I missed them. When I open that notebook and begin to write I lose sight of everything else. I get lost in my work. I looked up and saw the car. Doggone it! I hurried inside.
I peeked over the counter and asked, "OK. What did you do with my mother?"
"Probably the room at the end of the hall." Kelly laughed and pointed.
"Thanks." A good rapport with the staff at the doctor's office is important. I can think of times when I was so frazzled by so much responsibility--job outside the home, family to take care of, endless chore lists for a large family--there was so much that one little wrench thrown into the works could topple me. This humorous moment was a welcome one.
"Ah-ha! You thought you could slip past me, huh?" I greeted Mom, Dad and Gina, the nurse.
When Gina had finished with the statistical data--blood pressure, pulse, temperature, etc.--she left the three of us alone. Mom looked up at me. I could plainly see she was glad to see me. A slight pang of guilt struck me. I'm still spreading myself thin trying to take care of the people I love. Just because the youngest are now 20 doesn't mean that my life isn't busy. I keep asking myself how I had time to do everything I do and still work outside the home a minimum of 40 hours a week!
Mom said, "I don't understand why I got Alzheimer's."
I looked back at her and answered quietly, "I don't know, either, Mom." I didn't add how difficult it is to see her so frail. She always was so sharp. I keep saying that! I need to be there more. I need to go up and walk with her every day. But there are so many other things I'm trying to do. So many other places I need to be also. I'm trying to get those things taken care of while I can...but my mother needs me, too. She is dependent on her family to get her out of the house. She says she can still drive, but we all know that her driving days are over. And I'm thinking that it's time to remove the Internet from her computer, to save the money that she's paying for the service.
But though I should be there for her, I became overwhelmed when I fell so short. And I stopped going up to their house all the time. That was a stark difference from earlier on when Mom didn't want me to be there all the time because she was perfectly able to take care of herself, she said. In retrospect, I thought when the diagnosis was made that meant I needed to be on top of everything right then. But the process has been a gradual thing, a subtle thing. But when your brain is tired, or you are too close to the situation, it's hard to distinguish where the lines are and when you've crossed over them.
And I think about Dad...how he's taking so much of the responsibility for Mom's care...how they ask for so little.
But my brother told me I can't put my life on hold for our parents. But someone has to keep an eye on them. Someone has to be on the inside to understand what is going on and get help for them when they need it. They have to have someone they can trust. And they don't have friends. I tried to talk Mom into going to Senior Citizens but she wouldn't go. I tried to talk them into going to the Elderly Nutrition site to have dinner with other senior citizens, but they won't go.
Several months ago I was visiting. We were talking. Mom said, "I think God is mad at me."
"Why?" I was puzzled by that concept. Why would God be mad at my mother? This woman who has done the best she could with what she had...often not enough to work with. This woman who had been deaf for a number of years--never heard her babies cry...she felt us cry...but never gave up on God. She always knew when the time was right he would heal her ears. And he did. This woman who, when her sister accused her of not executing their mother's estate fairly, still executied it fairly, evenly divided everything so all five got an equal share. This woman who has always done the best she knew how...Why would God be angry with her?
"I haven't gone to his house. It says in the Bible that we're supposed to go to God's house and I haven't for a long time."
The idea puzzled me since I learned ages ago that each of us is a temple of God. He lives within us, so we are in him and he in us all the time. The church building isn't anything but a meeting place for those who believe the same.
"I don't think that's right, Mom. I don't know how God feels about you, but my best guess is that he's not mad at you. But if you want to go to church, you can go. I'll even stop and pick you up if you want me to."
She hasn't gone yet. Maybe it's time for me to call Saturday night to remind them of church. Then call them Sunday morning when I get up so they can get ready, and then leave early enough that I can go to their house and walk them to church. That will require my being less selfish and self-centered in the mornings.
I treasure my mornings at the computer. The window is in front of me, behind my desk so I can see the world as I work...the trees on the hillside across the creek, separated from me by all of the houses and garages between here and the Middle Fork of Little Beaver Creek. And when I'm writing I lose all track of time and place. I get lost in my work because I enjoy it so much. And it has worth. And it completes me, something my husband doesn't seem to grasp. something that hurts him somehow.
"I don't know why I got Alzheimer's," Mom said. Maybe it was God's way of giving her family notice that we need to be a family again instead of letting time and space get between us. We don't know each other any more. But this event in our matriarch's life is bringing us back to center. But how do I explain that to her? How do I explain that to anyone? Maybe I should just accept it as a gift and not say anything...just enjoy the nurturing and be a nurturer. And when will everyone accept that this is more important than dollars and cents?
Am I even making sense?
Monday, May 14, 2007
I can still drive
Uh, no, Mom. You can't. You had that stroke and still have trouble with your leg.
But I still know my way around.
But your reaction time is much slower than it used to be and there are a lot of crazy drivers out there.
Silence. Crochet hook working.
Guilt. Sadness.
But in a few minutes we've moved on to something else. And I know it's OK. And when I leave her house she will still say, "I love you, honey, and I wouldn't trade you for anything."
A couple of weeks ago she said to me, "Did you say you have a grandbaby to rock?"
I didn't, but I do have a grandbaby to rock. So, she gave me an afghan that she'd crocheted in white, pink and blue. I brought it home, treasuring its simplicity because at least Mom is still crocheting!
A couple of nights ago she said, "Do you have a grandbaby who needs an 'afigan'?" She gave me another blanket, this one white, red and blue to give to my daughter whose baby is five months old.
I was heartened when I went into her house that evening. She was crocheting with size 30 crochet thread. "I haven't worked with this for awhile," she said with a smile. And every time she says, "Your dad doesn't like me to crochet," I tell her, "It's OK. I told him it's OK for you to crochet as much as you want."
The morning was beautiful this morning, but the clouds have rolled in this afternoon. I don't know if it will rain. But I know that we still have Mom, for the most part. And I'm going to take these articles I printed from the Internet so she and Dad can read them. There are strides being met and my prayers are that the answers will come soon...for our family and everyone else's who is struggling with memory impairment.
But I still know my way around.
But your reaction time is much slower than it used to be and there are a lot of crazy drivers out there.
Silence. Crochet hook working.
Guilt. Sadness.
But in a few minutes we've moved on to something else. And I know it's OK. And when I leave her house she will still say, "I love you, honey, and I wouldn't trade you for anything."
A couple of weeks ago she said to me, "Did you say you have a grandbaby to rock?"
I didn't, but I do have a grandbaby to rock. So, she gave me an afghan that she'd crocheted in white, pink and blue. I brought it home, treasuring its simplicity because at least Mom is still crocheting!
A couple of nights ago she said, "Do you have a grandbaby who needs an 'afigan'?" She gave me another blanket, this one white, red and blue to give to my daughter whose baby is five months old.
I was heartened when I went into her house that evening. She was crocheting with size 30 crochet thread. "I haven't worked with this for awhile," she said with a smile. And every time she says, "Your dad doesn't like me to crochet," I tell her, "It's OK. I told him it's OK for you to crochet as much as you want."
The morning was beautiful this morning, but the clouds have rolled in this afternoon. I don't know if it will rain. But I know that we still have Mom, for the most part. And I'm going to take these articles I printed from the Internet so she and Dad can read them. There are strides being met and my prayers are that the answers will come soon...for our family and everyone else's who is struggling with memory impairment.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
The most difficult I've ever done
Mom says that a lot these days. And has for awhile. I've told her all along that as long as she's crocheting I'm not going to worry. But how sad it is for this heart of mine to see her now crocheting granny squares. Simple granny squares when she used to crochet advanced patterns!
I did some accidental research on the Internet today.
Reversing Alzheimer's memory loss may be possible
http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20070430/hl_nm/alzheimers_memory_dc_4
Many Alzheimer's caregivers seek help in God
http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-alzheimer14mar14,1,3165400.story?coll=la-headlines-california
Open the door to curing Alzheimer's
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/06/26/AR2006062600978.html
Paying for Alzheimer's
http://www.washtimes.com/op-ed/20050706-094909-5349r.htm
So where are we headed? One day at a time.
I did some accidental research on the Internet today.
Reversing Alzheimer's memory loss may be possible
http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20070430/hl_nm/alzheimers_memory_dc_4
Many Alzheimer's caregivers seek help in God
http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-alzheimer14mar14,1,3165400.story?coll=la-headlines-california
Open the door to curing Alzheimer's
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/06/26/AR2006062600978.html
Paying for Alzheimer's
http://www.washtimes.com/op-ed/20050706-094909-5349r.htm
So where are we headed? One day at a time.
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