Dementia has overtaken my mother. She rashly walks 2.5 kms with a suitcase in -7 C temperatures without mitts or hat or boots. In her trek she fell twice but luckily did not break anything though she sports some really nasty bruises. She can't find the right words to express her ideas. She doesn't remember people she knew and associated with before. She is slipping away a little piece at a time. And my siblings and I aren't very patient with this condition. Our tone too often expresses our impatience, and our annoyance at her antics. Our mother who trucked during the harvest and shovelled wheat like a man, our mother who sewed our clothes and made bread and filed all our farm's taxes, our mother who would help anyone with anything can only think of herself and her administrations of her vitamins and when her next meal occurs. Her life is governed by the clock and it wearies us to be constantly reminded what time it is. Maybe this is the only thing that she can cling to and that provides structure for her? In fairness to her, she does a little more. She knits baby hats for the hospital, she completes a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzles each week, she exercises each day by walking the halls in her complex and goes to group exercise three times a week, she plays bridge and cribbage, she writes birthday cards and sends monetary gifts to her grandchildren. Today she expressed how much it hurts her that they don't write her thank you notes. She interprets their silence as their not caring about her. A few days ago at my brother-in-law's funeral, she turned to me and in the most angry peevish voice said "Well, I can see that my being a mother-in-law didn't make any difference!" I explored that today with her. She wanted to hear praise and to feel like her life had meant something to my deceased brother-in-law. I'm reminded of the movie Waking Ned Devine where Michael O"Sullivan says the words spoken at funerals are spoken too late. One day I will stand at my mother's funeral and speak the words she longs and needs to hear now. I will grieve her passing. But right now today after travelling with her for the last week, my tolerance has expired. I need some time away from her. Mostly I need to have a gentle heart for this woman who now occupies my mother's body.
5 comments:
Dear Bonnie,
Just today a friend of mine was remarking on how the children born in the past 15 years have moved into a whole new world from what we ever knew....even those born since 2000. My four year old grandaughter is a whiz at the computer and her mind is filled with knowledge and experiences we never had.
Your dear mother also lived in a world we did not have to because of their love and care for us. My heart too, aches to see the confusion and pain they struggle with in their twilight years. Our strength and caring is something we have the opportunity to give back and I commend you so much for all that you give to your Mother. For being such a loving daughter and friend....may God Bless you always. Love Rashelle
This sounds so painful for you and your siblings. It must be very hard, because the mother of whom you write as being so vibrant and efficient has been hijacked to somewhere else. Thank you for sharing your sweet feelings, and experiences of this "woman who now occupies [your] mother's body". Getting old - it ain't for sissies! Much love, K
I read your comments with some trepidation as all 6 of my Mother's elder sisters experienced varying degrees of dementia in their later years. Some of them had many years in a changed state and some of them moved into a very happy place even though their families were no longer known to them. Maybe my Mother will be luckier -for it seems to be a thing of luck with no real way to prevent the onset and progress. Perhaps that is what frustrates us most - we feel we should be able to DO something. And we can't. Keep telling us how it is Bonnie - so we can support you as you are supporting your Mother.
My mother had alzheimers. Feed her ice cream. It will put her in a good mood.
Let's be perfectly clear here that the frustration comes mostly from my inability to be patient. I thought those four kids and several decades of parenting would have given me the St. Theresa Award for patience and kindness. Yesterday at bridge the instructor was trying to tell my mother hoow to play her cards in the principle they were demonstrating and my mother said in the angriest voice possible "I've played bridge for years you don't need to tell me!" She played it out the way she wanted, took a grand slam and glared at all of us in triumph.
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