No.
Today.
I took a late nap this afternoon.
No, wait, it was yesterday.
I woke up and thought it was morning and wondered what day it was.
I hate that feeling.
Then I ate some Harry and David's Chocolate Gingerbread Moose Munch right before bed.
Which wasn't as good as the White Chocolate Cranberry, if you must know.
The more menopausal I become, the more ingesting sugar in its purer forms before bed does not agree with my need for sleep.
So I got up.
And here I am.
Thinking about walking the hills in the morning and hoping that Barb is similarly insomniac tonight.
I am a Bad Friend.
But today, my Mum was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease.
And she is, as of today, residing in a lovely care home in a rural part of the Waikato.
The great, blessed part of this story is that my long-suffering sister was inspired to have Mum spend a week in that very same care home just two weeks ago. She and her husband were busy moving their belongings to their home at the beach, to which they will retire in a few weeks. Mum's reaction was mixed, depending on who was listening and the time of day, but the last few days she had been talking about wanting to move in there.
As opposed to If I go into a home I will die, which had been her former mantra.
So today, she was visited by a doctor and as my sister observed her answers to his questions, it was apparent that Mum has no concept of the passage of time or orientation to reality. And Mum was very pleased when the doctor told her he thought she should go to the home today and not come home again.
She left her house without a backward glance and didn't even take her purse.
This is my mother who never left her home without checking every electrical switch, double-checking the locks, and then circling the outside of the house to look for open windows.
As Anne said, she and her husband were more sad than Mum.
We have been dreading this day for years. Mum has been getting more aggressive and uncooperative in the months since she has been home. Every conversation I have had with her has left me feeling like a bad daughter and frustrated with her peculiarities. My poor sister has dealt with the brunt of everything.
But today, Mum was back to her sweet self.
We had a loving conversation, mother to daughter.
It was good.
When Anne and John took Mum to the home, she was hugged by a caregiver and then she went to have a snack with her old friends. After talking to the director for some time, A and J went to say goodbye to Mum (Mum is all about the goodbye, hugs and kisses etc.) but when Anne tapped her on the shoulder Mum said Oh, are you still here?
We don't know what changed for Mum this week, but I believe it was divine providence. Maybe my Dad (who was a saint and loved Mum perfectly) has some pull in the afterlife.
I like to think so.
Then why am I crying?
Oh Sue, it's no wonder you can't sleep. Even though you saw this diagnosis coming, it's still hard to take it when it comes. It's a blessing that she went willingly. I'll pray for her.
ReplyDeleteBecause you love your mother and it is really sad to take over the care-giving when we have taken so much care from them. I think my mother is slipping a little as well, she repeats the same conversation endlessly. Sometimes it is really hard, she forgets I still work and calls at the most awkward moments. But you are fortunate that she will be watched over and cared about. Because our parents are changing, it means we are getting older and sometimes having to face your mortality is scary. I love what you said about your father. I remember him as a sweet loving welcoming person who loved his girls. Specially your mother. Call me if you need to, I am a good listener!! Love you SUE!
ReplyDeleteSue, what a lovely post and tribute to your mother. We had my father-in-law live with us who also had the beginnings of alzheimer and it was a blessing - for everyone when he happily went into a home. It's the safest place, but I know that your sadness also comes from knowing there is no 'home' to come back to anymore! We will go visit. You are a good daughter, she knows she is loved. This is the right time, everything has fallen into place. Love, Monna
ReplyDeleteIt's amazing how we can feel calm and heartache at the same time. The spirit can prepare us for difficulties and lift us up through them but we still need to experience them, hence you can feel comfort and know something is right and still feel sad and not sleep. I'm sorry about your mom.
ReplyDeleteDarn. You made me cry, too. I think you're crying because you've turned a corner with your mom, and you won't be going back. And that kind of change comes with some bitter-sweet and kind of raw feelings. But your sharing and insight will stay with me when my turn comes some day, with my own mom.
ReplyDeleteYour mom is lucky to have such loving daughters.
ReplyDelete