It's been a challenging year. So many major life-changing events have occurred. In mid-July the decision was made. The one we so dreaded, and feared. Mom was not happy about moving to a nursing home. She continues to say that she wants to be at home because they aren't doing anything there to help her. Nobody, she says, comes to visit her. She wants to go home.
My middle sibling told her, "I can't do anything about it. My brother and sister are the POAs." Well, my first reaction to that was, "Um, it wasn't our choice. It was what Mom and Dad set up." My second reaction was, "Get on the same page with us!" The third reaction was, "You were in denial a long time. We've been with this since the beginning so we are more acclimated to it." My best advice to this sibling? "Don't visit later in the day when it's getting on to bedtime because of the sundowners thing." He was hurt that I didn't recognize that he'd been through nursing home stuff with his mother-in-law and the friend of the family who helped to raise his wife. "It's different when we're talking about our mother," I answered. "Go home. Rest and relax. She will not remember that you even were there."
I was right. She wanted to see me at that very moment to talk to me, but Bill said it could wait til morning. I knew she wouldn't remember by the time I got there. I was right. She did not.
"Nobody comes to see me," she said.
"Mom, that's not true. Richard and Dawn come to get your laundry and bring it back clean. They are here at least three times a week. I am here at least three times a week. And Bill, doesn't he come to visit with you while Deb is having dialysis?"
"I'm going to start writing down the dates and names of my visitors. You all keep telling me these things but I don't remember."
"I'll bring you a notebook," I said.
When we arrived she remembered that her brother Ira and his wife Evelyn had been to see her. That they'd had a nice, long visit. But by the time my husband and I were leaving, she did not remember they had been there. We must have missed them by only a few minutes.
"I don't like it here," she said. "Nobody talks to anyone else. I could sit alone at home and crochet."
"That's not what the staff tells us. You go and play Bingo and Yahtzee. Last week when I came to see you we went to the dining room for a sing and ice cream social with the folks from two local churches and a couple of days later when I came we had birthday cake and ice cream for the July birthdays. Richard said when he comes to see you he has to go looking for you because you're never in your room."
"I'm going to have to start writing things down because you all keep telling me these things but I don't remember them."
"That's because it's Alzheimer's, Mom."
"I was doing fine at home before I came here. I was living on my own, taking care of my house, doing my cooking."
"No, Mom. When Dad went into the hospital the last time I came to stay with you. When he died I stayed on and stayed with you for four months because you couldn't stay alone. I did the cleaning, the cooking...I made sure you got your meds and ate right. You finally said you wanted me to go home because I belonged where my husband was. The only way I could do that was to move you here."
"That's true," she agreed without any argument. "I just hate it here."
"How about we just take one day at a time. If they come up with a cure for Alzheimer's, we'll have you out of here in a heartbeat."
I didn't tell her that by that time the house will be sold to continue to pay for her to live at the nursing home. But she will always have a home with her children.
It's been an easier transition than I anticipated. But it's hard to go to her house when she isn't there. The neighbors told Richard how hard it was to look at that dark house so he goes over and spends time there with the lights on. He said when the house is sold he will have to sell his house and move, too, because he won't be able to handle seeing other people going in and out of the house that was home for 52 years...well, for him, 48 years. He and the neighbors sounded like they are hopeful that my husband and I will buy the house and live there. Does this mean you CAN go home again?
Alzheimer's. It is a devastating disease. Mom will forget, but we will remember for a long, long time.
(c)2009 Cathy Thomas Brownfield
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