One day at a time

"We are too close," Mom said one long ago day. "When something happens to me you will have a hard time. I don't want you to hurt so."

"The memories will keep me going, Mom. You let me worry about all of that when the time comes," I said.

I want to always have memories that assure me I was a good daughter, the best I could be for her, that I always was loved unconditionally. That I had a wonderful, loving mentor to encourage me, urge me to take chances when I would have not even tried because I was fearful that I would fail. My mother always has believed in me, and still does.

I visited her today at her new home.

"I'm so glad you came to see me today." She held my hand and I felt her nails piercing my hand, her grip was so tight. I let her hold onto me. If it gave her comfort and reassurance, so be it. "I love you, Cathy."

"I love you, too, Mom."

"You're the best daughter."

"You're the best mom."

"I don't know about that."

"I had to get it somewhere."

"Thank you."

"Thank you for being my mom."

We talked about the afghan she was finishing. A while later, following a few moments of silence, a lull in the conversation...

"I love you, Cathy."

"I love you, too, Mom."

"You're the best daughter."

"Even with all of my flaws?"

"You don't have as many flaws as you think you do."

"Do you think so?"

"Yes. I wouldn't trade you."

"I wouldn't trade you, either, Mom."

"I wish I could go home, but I think that probably isn't going to happen."

"If they come up with a cure for Alzheimer's, I will take you home in a heartbeat."

"I don't think my Alzheimer's is as bad as they thought it would be by now."

"It's an individual thing, I think," I said. "I credit the Namenda for holding the progression back."

I know the problem with Alzheimer's--her Alzheimer's--is that her short term memory is gone, has been gone for some time. The short term memory is important for her safety. She can't live alone because she can't remember putting something on the stove to cook. She can't dispense her own medications. She can't drive herself anywhere. Someone needs to be there to watch over her shoulder and keep her safe.

My cousin visited Mom and Dad a year and a half ago. When she was ready to leave to catch her plane she told me she didn't think Mom and Dad should be living alone. I began to watch them more closely. I visited more often. When Dad passed away we knew Mom couldn't live alone. When she insisted I go back to my home, our only option was a nursing home.

We wanted comfort for her, a place with caring staff, clean and pleasant surroundings. We found it. But still, is any nursing home good enough for our mother?

For now things are as they need to be. For now we are doing the only thing we can. The financial hit is costly. What happens to people whose homes have been sold if an Alzheimer's cure comes along?

Let's take things just one day at a time...

(c)2009 Cathy Thomas Brownfield