Learning life lessons

If anything good can be said about living with an Alzheimer's patient, it's that I'm learning so much every single day.
I'm learning to be patient. I always thought I was kind of a patient person, but living with Mom now has expanded my patience level a great deal.
Yesterday, we had to sign some papers in front of a Notary Public. Because Mom doesn't sign her name much any more, I had her practice signing her name before we left the house. When we got to the Notary, perhaps 15 minutes later, Mom couldn't remember how to sign her name. She started to sign "Mom," and I patiently corrected her. She finally got all three signatures down, but only after we practiced more.
I'm learning to be more observant, which I thought I was before, but I am finding I am not.
I watch Mom now more and discern what her behavior might be indicating. I'm getting good at reading her sign language and interpreting what she wants to say, although that's getting more difficult almost by the day.
I am learning to rely more and more on God and not my own self. That's a hard one and I don't know why. I have been a Christian since high school. I still have vivid memories of accepting Jesus into my heart and knowing I am a child of God. I also have vivid memories of when I joined the Catholic Church and how I went to Mass in the lovely little chapel on the Fort Wright College campus. I read my Bible daily and learn from it each day.
And I am learning who my true friends are. Right before Christmas, a friend of Mom's, who has known Mom close to 80 years, called her. She hadn't bothered to call Mom in more than six months. Before I called Mom to the phone, I told this friend I didn't appreciate her behavior and, knowing how ill Mom is, the very least she could do is keep in touch with Mom. She started saying how ill she had been, but I didn't want to hear it and didn't care.
And when I called a person who I thought was a good friend because I really needed to talk to someone about Martha's behavior, she dismissed me, said she'd call me back, but didn't until several hours later. When I related these incidents to my support group buddies, they all agreed that through this, I will find out who my friends really are. And I am.
I hurt enough from living with Mom and this disease for someone who says they are my friend and to call whenever I need to talk, to not be bothered when I really need them. I don't call people to talk about what's going on all the time. My group of friends who I feel I can talk to is dwindling.
When I really need to talk, I talk to God. He always listens. I'm learning that too.

Christmas 2010

I really wanted to make this a Christmas to remember. I just have this feeling that I won't have Mom for another Christmas, at least one that she will remember or participate in.

First, we got this HUGE tree. It's an oddity - trees look so much smaller on the tree lot than when they come into your home. But this year, Mom and I spotted this tree right off the bat. I asked the tree folks to trim some off the bottom, but they didn't, so when they delivered the tree, it nearly hit the ceiling. In fact, the guy hit the ceiling fan twice when he was putting it in the stand for us. But it's a perfect Grand Fir and smells so good. Mom loved that tree the minute it came through the door.

The next step was decorating the darned tree. I always start at the bottom with the lights and work my way to the top. Mom usually helps me, but didn't offer this year. So I got the lights on as far as I could reach and it still left about three feet at the top that was completely bare and that's with eight strings of lights. I knew I couldn't get any ornaments up that high, so I finally called on a friend who has tall sons and the top of the tree now has lights and ornaments. It truly is beautiful.

My sister decided that we should have Christmas Day dinner at our house which meant we could have about 10 people here. I knew I needed some help with that many people coming and so I decided to have a simple supper of homemade clam chowder served in sour dough bread bowls, a fruit salad and pumpkin pie for dessert. Gradually, the number of people coming for dinner dwindled to six, which made things a lot simpler for me. Since part of our normal group of friends couldn't come for Christmas Day, Martha decided to have Mom and I to her house for dinner and then have the rest of the group later that evening for snacks. Christmas Eve Day, I was busy wrapping and getting what I could ready for the next day. By that night, I was exhausted and looking forward to the big day. We had a pleasant Christmas Eve with my sister and the rest of our little group of friends with good food and lots of gifts. I took Mom to see some of the Christmas lights around town after we left Martha's and we got home about 9:30 p.m. tired, but happy.

The next morning, though, was the beginning of my nightmare. After my shower, I got my pumpkin pie baked first thing in the morning. Then I got Mom's breakfast ready and the dog's breakfast ready and started preparing the clam chowder. Mom didn't get up until after 10 a.m. and I had the chowder well started by then. She seemed to take extra time getting ready that morning and by the time she got done, it was almost 11:30 a.m. As she ate breakfast, I finished the chowder and had all these dishes to do. I asked Mom to start the dishes for me. But she disappeared. She was in her bathroom and I thought she was having trouble, so I checked on her and she said she was doing fine. I started doing the dishes, knowing I still had the table to do, the bread bowls to get at Safeway, Mom had to wash her hair and put it up to dry, etc., etc. I washed and washed, had almost all the dishes washed, when I got worried again and checked on her. She said she was getting ready for our company. I replied it was much too early and asked again if she would please help me with the dishes. She finally came into the kitchen and started drying. I finished the dishes and asked her to get ready to wash her hair while I was gone. I raced to Safeway, got back home 30 minutes later only to find her holding the dog. As I put my groceries away, I asked her to get her shampoo and towel and I'd help her wash her hair. She absolutely refused. She hadn't washed her hair since Wednesday when Jill was here to do it for her. So I asked her to help me with the table. I asked her to get the leaf so we could have some extra room at the table and she brought out two folding chairs instead. We needed the chairs, but again, that's not what I asked. That's when I lost my temper and just couldn't talk to her for a while. She disappeared into her bedroom again and got ready while I got the bread bowls ready, stirred the clam chowder, decorated the table, and finally had time to get dressed myself. I was on the verge of tears. Not only was this day not turning out to be perfect as I had wanted so badly, it was turning out to be way more stressful than I had envisioned. So I kept singing "Away in a Manger" which seemed to calm my nerves quite a bit.

But I think the most hurtful thing all day was what my sister did.

The night before, I asked her if our friends were going to bring her to the house, in case she needed a ride since she can't drive yet because of her recent surgery. She replied that her friends were bringing her. I asked our guests to come about 5 p.m., so I was surprised when Martha and another friend of hers came to the door about 4:45 p.m. After Martha settled down a bit, I asked her where she had been. She said she had been at this friend's home since about 1 p.m. I couldn't believe it. I didn't say anything to her because I think I was so worn out that it really didn't dawn on me until today what she had done. Instead of spending Christmas Day here with her Mom and her sister, her only family, she chose to spend most of the day with a friend and her family. She offered no help and when she got here, she offered no help. She sat on her butt the whole time she was here. She did offer to wash dishes, but I declined because I knew she needed a ride back home and I wasn't going to take Martha home at that point.

Mom seemed angry the whole time our company was here. Martha seemed oblivious to that and just kept smiling at Mom. But when we opened more gifts, Mom's mood seemed to lighten up and she even liked the clam chowder, which turned out very tasty I might add, and the pie, which also turned out well.

Today, I cried at what Martha had done. I tried to make Martha's Christmas as pleasant as I could and this is what I get in return. Her friends and Mom and I all went together to get her a new TV so she would have a good choice of programs as she recuperated from her surgery instead of having to battle with her old one. I brought her over here for a visit. We got pizza for Christmas Eve and took it over to her house. I even got her two more gifts, plus stocking stuffers so she wouldn't feel bad not having anything to open on Christmas.

I feel like Martha just slapped me in the face. I don't understand how she can be so inconsiderate, especially with Mom as sick as she is. What's wrong with her? Or am I just expecting too much? I don't know. All I do know is that I'm hurt and so is Mom. And I wonder when Martha is going to grow up. She turns 50 in March, I think it's time.

And thank God for "Away in a Manger."

A Stranger in the House

When I was interviewed by the local agency on aging, they recommended that I accept respite care. Since I can do everything, at first I balked. But when Martha couldn't or wouldn't stay with Mom for a few hours every week and I realized I really did need a break, I finally agreed.

Jill is assigned to us and she is an angel. She and Mom warmed up to each other right away. Although Mom seems to think she stays too long (she comes to the house once a week for almost four hours), I believe that will eventually change. Mom lets Jill wash her hair and now prefers her to do it. She also let Jill do a manicure and pedicure and claims that Jill does it better than anyone.

I thank God for Jill and yet it's very difficult to have a stranger, or rather another stranger in the house, doing things for Mom that I feel like I should be doing. After all, I can do everything, right? Wrong. I get overburdened and stressed and my patience level drops quickly. So it's better if this "stranger" comes and helps Mom.

Jill and I also are getting to know each other well. She feels free to talk to me about what Mom tells her when I'm not in the house with them. They were looking at some photos the other day and Mom couldn't recognize my Grandma Dora, Mom's mother. That is the first time that I know of that she didn't recognize Grandma Dora. I cried when Jill told me that. But I made sure Jill knows that she must tell me what Mom does or says.

Mom is declining day by day, more rapidly than I expected. I notice little things that she does or doesn't do that hadn't occurred before. She can't prepare her own breakfast any longer. And I noticed that she chews her pills, so I give them to her one at a time and makes sure she swallows them. Her communication skills are very bad and getting worse and that is so frustrating for her. She knows the word, but she just can't get it out of her mouth. So we play this guessing game, with me trying to guess what she wants to say. Actually I'm getting pretty good at it.

Last night, she got up just as I was turning off my light and said there were people in her bedroom and she was frightened. I assured her that Gigi and I were the only ones in the house and she finally went back to bed, but she didn't remember anything this morning when I mentioned it. This may be the start of a wandering phase that many Alzheimer's patients go through. I hope not. She still is on Namenda and if that is slowing things down, I really would hate to see what it would be like without the drug. I wonder if it's helping at all, but there's no way to know for sure.

Martha asked if we should make another appointment with the neurologist and I said no because he can't help her. I don't think more medication is the answer and that's what he would recommend. He even admitted that he doesn't have much faith in the medications for Alzheimer's, so in reality, he can't do anything for Mom.

Sometimes I don't know how much more I can take. I know God is carrying me through this because He's the only One who could let me go through this. Sometimes I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders, at least my world. And sometimes, I just don't want the responsibility. I want my Mom back. I want her to be my Mom again.

But I know I can't ever have her back again. God, I miss my Mom.

Declining day by day

I usually don't cry at every little thing Mom does or doesn't do, but today I cried.

Mom has declined to the point of not being able to comprehend how to make her oatmeal or toast, her breakfast that she has every day and has for countless years. So when she gets up every morning, I get her oatmeal ready and put it on the stove and put two pieces of bread in the toaster for her. I get her dishes and silverware out and put them exactly where she needs them and then I must supervise when she gets into the kitchen to get her breakfast. I must tell her to turn the stove on, not too high and tell her to put the bread down in the toaster and when to butter it. After her oatmeal is cooked, I must direct her to put it in her bowl, put some sugar on it and get her milk. I put her medications out in plain sight of her meal and then she is finally ready to sit down to eat. And before she gets done with her meal, I must ask her to take her pills. Every morning is the same routine.

However, this morning was a bit different. I prepared everything except putting the bread in the toaster. Then I went into my bedroom to do some last minute Christmas shopping on the computer. I heard her in the kitchen and then she came into the bedroom. I asked her if she had turned on the stove for the oatmeal and she had. I then told her that she needed to get some bread out and put it in the toaster and toast it. She said OK and returned to the kitchen.

I wasn't in the bedroom but about 20 minutes and when I got into the kitchen, I just couldn't believe it. There sat Mom with her oatmeal sure enough, but she had one piece of plain, UNtoasted bread sitting on a napkin with butter on it and a few bites taken out of it. The second piece of bread was on a plate, untoasted and smeared with oatmeal. I asked why she did that and she said she didn't know.

Then I began to cry. Mom got concerned and asked why I was crying and I just told her I was tired.

How could I tell her that I HATE seeing her like this. That I hate seeing her get worse almost every day. That I hate what this damned disease is doing to her. That I want to yell at God for letting my Mom get this horrible disease.

So folded laundry and tried to take my mind off it. I am really trying to quit trying to understand why Mom does what she does and how her mind is working now. It's a waste of time to try to understand and I don't think I'm supposed to understand. But sometimes, it's so difficult to cope with this. And it's like this every day, every single day.

And I continue to pray that God cradles Mom in His Arms and takes her home soon. Please God, hear my prayer.

New normal things

Since Mom can't quite make it to the bathroom any more when she's sleeping, she's been wearing disposable panties at night. My "old" Mom threw her used panties away every morning, but my "new" Mom is playing a game of hide and seek, with her hiding and me seeking.
If I don't see her dirty panties and throw them away, she hides them. But then when she wants to wear them again, she forgets where she has put them. So each day, when she's sleeping or eating or doing something where she can't see me, I try to find them. Most of the time I am successful, but sometimes I'm not. I've found dirty panties in her closet, tucked on top of some wash cloths in her linen closet, in the washer and various other places in and around her bedroom. But yesterday, my search surprised me. I was getting her some fresh panties before she got ready for bed and a dish towel seemed out of place to me. It was neatly folded and tucked away in the back of the linen closet. I reached to retrieve it and realized there was something inside it. Sure enough it was two pairs of dirty panties. I threw the panties in the trash and the towel in the washer.
When Mom does something like this that is totally out of the norm, I usually spend hours trying to understand why she does it. But I have learned with this disease that is a waste of my time. Mom simply does things I don't understand any more and I must accept it. This incident kinda takes the cake.
Is this a game she likes to play? Does she see how long she can hide her dirty panties waiting until I find them?
I don't think so.

I decided to change banks because our current bank is going to begin charging $10 a month for its "free" checking, so we joined a local credit union. Before we left to open new accounts for Mom and I, I had Mom practice signing her name several times. When we got to the bank, she did very well, with very little coaching. Only after sitting there for two hours did she forget how to spell her name and I had to coach her then letter by letter until she completed her name.

My sister came over for a visit yesterday afternoon and told Mom she is going in for major surgery on Monday. I thought Mom would be more upset than she appeared to be, but she wasn't. My sister will be in the hospital for about three days and then she'll go to a friend's house for a couple of days before going to her home. Her total recovery time will be from four to six weeks. I have known about her surgery for some time, but my sister didn't want to tell Mom until very close to her surgery so Mom wouldn't worry too much. I'll try to keep her mind off it.
This might be one reason Martha hasn't dealt well with Mom's illness. Martha has had her own health issues to deal with and couldn't deal with Mom's. Since she doesn't talk to me, I didn't know what she was going through, so I now understand a bit more how she reacted to Mom's illness.
And my prayers are always for my sister to heal both emotionally and physically.

Losing it

Last night was one of the worst nights I've since I've been taking care of Mom.
Usually, between 8 p.m. and 10 p.m., almost every night is my time to relax. I just like to sit with the dog on my lap and watch TV, whether there's anything worth watching or not. It's my time to just relax.
Almost every night Mom interrupts me about the time she's getting ready for bed looking for something she just can't find and is usually in plain sight. But I really don't mind, it usually only takes a minute to find what she needs.
But last night was different.
Mom walked into the living room and said she wanted to go shopping some day soon because she needed some things. I take great pains to make sure Mom doesn't need anything and so when she said this, I got upset with myself. I asked what she needed and she said she didn't know, but she needed things. I followed her into her bathroom and asked again what she needed. She faced me and rubbed her chest, like she was washing. I asked if she needed soap and she said yes. I got her two boxes of Dove from my bathroom and asked if she needed anything else. She nodded her head. Then pointed to an empty tissue box. I left her for maybe a minute to get a new tissue box and by the time I got back into her bathroom, she had opened one box of Dove and the other one was gone. I asked her where she put the other box, because I had asked her to put it in plain sight so she wouldn't forget where it was.
"Did you give me another box?" she said. I said yes and asked again where it was. "I've forgotten," she said. I started opening cupboards and drawers, looking for the soap and not finding it, I asked again and got the same reply.
That's when I lost my temper and just started yelling at her. Then I started sobbing. And I couldn't stop. The tears came in buckets and wouldn't, couldn't stop. I forget how many times I asked her for the soap and each time was the same reply. Then she asked why I was crying and I couldn't tell her. I couldn't form the words to tell her, because I didn't know myself at that point.
I finally found the soap, put it in her little basket and left her, still sobbing.
All of this over a stupid box of Dove soap.
But I couldn't stop crying. It wasn't my regular crying thing either, it was sobbing. My whole body sobbed.
I know I'm tired. It's been a month since I've had any type of break. And I know I'm so stressed about our financial situation. As bills come in I wonder how we're going to pay them all this month. I hate what this disease is doing to Mom and I want to fix it. But I can't fix it and it makes me feel so helpless. I feel like such a failure when I lose my temper, or cry, and I think that everything overwhelmed me at that moment and I had to let it all out.
I think I must have sobbed for at least a half hour. Mom came into the living room where I was sitting and held my hand and asked what was wrong. Finally I could catch my breath enough to tell her, that I hate this disease, I hate what it's doing to her, I feel like I'm not taking good care of her. She rubbed my back and said I was taking good care of her and that she's going to get worse. Then she started crying which made me feel even more guilty and made me cry harder. So we both cried for a while.
It's not that I don't thank God for every day I have with Mom. I really try to be thankful and grateful for every day He gives me. This particular time, I was simply overwhelmed. I guess I just had to let it out, whatever it is.
By the time I was actually able to talk, and wanted to call someone, everyone I know was in bed. I didn't get to sleep until almost midnight.
But today is a new day and I will try my best to take care of my Mom.

Giving thanks

Saturday I cooked one of our turkeys we received as gifts from two of my angel friends. Mom and I had good turkey dinners sent from the folks we were supposed to be with on Thanksgiving and it took us two days to eat them! So when we ran out of those, I cooked our own turkey.
And it made me sad.
On Friday, I made cranberry sauce. I had frozen cranberries the year before, so I just got them out of the freezer and made sauce. As Mom came through the kitchen, she paused to see what was on the stove. She studied them, really looked them over. I asked her if she knew what they were and she said she thought they were buttons. I said no, they were cranberries.
The smell of the roasting turkey filled the house on Saturday and made me think of Thanksgivings past. It made me think of our lives on the farm as we gathered to eat delicious rich food, starting with a shrimp cocktail in Fostoria cocktail glasses, and ending with pumpkin and mincemeat pies topped with mounds of whipped cream. We all sat at my Grandma Ida's big table with the family's china and silver, her house smelling so good it made our mouths water.
And in recent years, we invited our cousins from Lynnwood, Wash., a suburb north of Seattle. Before the big dinner day, Mom spent two days getting out the good china, washing every piece by hand and putting it back in the china cupboard until our special dinner. The white plates are ringed with gold and in the middle are some strands of wheat in gold. The whole set was brought from Japan when my uncle was there.
Mom also got out our family's silver and polished every piece by hand.
I loved making Thanksgiving dinner for everyone. I made my Auntie Em's rolls, pumpkin and mincemeat pies, mashed potatoes, and usually asparagus and I was in charge of the turkey and dressing. As I made the dressing, Mom volunteered to be the official "taster," making sure I put in enough salt and sage. Mom made cranberry sauce and jelly, the gravy and she always carved the turkey. We really made a good team in the kitchen.
Last year, she made all the cranberry stuff and I did everything else. This year, she couldn't do anything and didn't even offer to. I thought she was going to offer to carve the turkey when it came out of the oven, and I would've have declined her offer, but she didn't. She just sat down at her chair and waited to be served. That is SO NOT like my Mom. This stranger in our kitchen didn't even offer to taste the dressing as I made it. Again, not like my Mom.
So last night, after Mom went to bed, I cried. I am thankful to have another Thanksgiving with Mom. But I cried for losing my Mom. I cried because I know there won't be any more cooking together in the kitchen, no more tasting the dressing before I stuff the turkey and no more carving the turkey. There won't be any more helping her put the good china away after she so painstakingly hand washed each piece. I HATE what this disease is doing to her. It's taking my Mom away from me and I hate it.
I know I should be thankful for each day I have with Mom, but sometimes this feeling just overwhelms me. I am losing my Mom, little by little and there's not a damned thing I can do about it. I feel so helpless. I am used to just charging through life, fixing things. I want to fix this, but I know I can't.
Each day brings on another new challenge with Mom. Just when I think I've conquered all these negative feelings, they come roaring back like a big ol' lion.
God is so good to me and as I prayed last night and again this morning, I know He's walking right beside me and carrying me through this.
For that I am truly thankful.

A November to remember

It started snowing a while ago. First, tiny flakes barely visible as they fell, and eventually growing bigger and bigger as flakes tumble to the ground, blanketing everything in white. It's lovely to watch from inside a warm, cozy home, knowing I don't have to drive in it. And that's one advantage of taking care of Mom - I don't have to worry about commuting to work on Monday morning when the forecast calls for more snow!

I had a difficult morning yesterday. I went to the grocery store to stock up in case of snow. I always take a list, and always have a spending limit, usually with a little leeway. But yesterday there was no leeway, no cushion I could rely on. I had $50 to spend and a $50 gift card from my sister who had already given us $100. The most expensive things on my list were a package of disposable panties for Mom, Vitamin D for Mom and a small turkey or turkey breast. And I had to put some gas in the tank.
So with coupons and list in hand, I shopped. I left the turkey for last since I didn't know how much everything would cost. I ran a running estimate in my head and when I came to the turkey, I realized I couldn't get one. I had purchased everything for the stuffing a little at a time during the past month, so I was all set for stuffing. Now I just needed the bird. This very hard for me to share because I am a very proud person and very independent. As I looked at the prices of the turkeys and even just turkey breasts, I realized we couldn't afford it. Even though we're invited to friends for dinner on Thanksgiving, I usually cook a small stuffed turkey so we can have our own leftovers. But not this year. Please don't misunderstand - I am very thankful for what Mom and I have. We have meat in the freezer and we can have regular satisfying meals, unlike many people who go hungry. I am thankful for so much in my life, that I don't want to seem ungrateful for all our blessings. It's the absence of our own turkey that is hard to take. As I unpacked all the groceries at home, with the pantry well stocked and our freezer nearly full, I realized I was truly blessed to be able to purchase as much as I had. In a few days, when we get our checks from the farm, I'll get to buy a turkey and cook it then and be very grateful for it. Probably more grateful than I've ever been.

God is teaching me so much as I walk this journey. I couldn't make this journey without Him. I am being humbled and being taught what the really important things in life are, Love being the most important.

Thank You, Father.

Stuff for November

Keeping a comfortable temperature in the house has grown into a full time job. Comfortable for a woman in her mid-50s and comfortable for a woman in her early 90s is called polar opposites.
My thermostat has been turned on high for about two years. I can't stand to wear sweatshirts any more and even when the temperatures dip below freezing, I like the coolness on my skin.
Mom, however, would like the entire house to be about 85 degrees and her bathroom about 90 degrees.
So, I have to monitor the thermostat constantly because Mom, just like the small child she has become, will sneak over to it and turn it up. I won't notice until the sweat starts pouring off me and then realize she's got it up to 80 degrees. Whew!
So I turn it back down to 70 degrees and sneak back to whatever I was doing.
When Mom says she's cold, I usually tell her to get a sweater. And if she really wants to make me feel guilty, she gets her blanket and covers up to her neck and then to top it off, the dog gets in her lap and they both look at me with big ol' sorry looking eyes. Sometimes I ignore them, but usually I give in and turn up the thermostat and then put on a lighter t-shirt.
Catholic Community Services will begin to send a part-time caregiver next Wednesday. She can be here for almost 4 hours a week.
It's a little weird to think that a stranger will come into the house to take care of Mom. Not that she will have to do anything complicated, but it's just the thought. I have no expectations of this caregiver, other than she better be very nice to Mom. And she better be respectful of me and Mom and our home and how we do things here. OK, I guess I do have some expectations after all.
CCS was assigned to us by the local Area on Aging. Although CCS has been very professional, the caseworker from the aging agency I think is plain incompetent. Thank God I won't have to deal with her very often.
And I have called the attorney working on how to deal with Mom's farmland so many times I've lost count. I sent him a lot of paperwork to work through, but that was a month and a half ago. Now it's almost Thanksgiving and he still hasn't done anything. Why are attorneys like that?
And God continues to work in my life. A dear friend from Woodland, who is raising a physically challenged son with his wife and daughters reminded me of how God is working in our lives and how blessed I am to have each day that God gives me. He really put things in better perspective for me and I appreciate it so much. He is one of my many angels in my life.
So thank you God, for all your gifts.

Let go and let God

The season isn't the only thing changing around here. God is working in my life and if I just let Him, He will continue to work in my life.
The big change is my sister. She may still be in denial about Mom's condition, but she is being so generous, I just can't believe it. Perhaps this is the only way she can show her support, I don't know. All I do know is that she is changing for the better.
She announced the other day that she is paying for a new toilet for Mom's bathroom. I told her that our regular plumber said it would be at least $500 for a new toilet installed and everything and that we would just have to wait until after the holidays to have a new one put in Mom's bathroom. Mom has been having problems with her toilet for months and every time the plumber comes, it's $65 plus whatever labor and parts he needs. I think she is putting too much paper in it, so I've asked her to flush several times when she goes and that seems to be working. But the plumber said eventually we would need a new one. Just another thing to add to our Things-To-Get-Done list.
After my sister's announcement, she sent Mom and I a card with a $50 Fred Meyer gift card inside. Then I asked her for help paying for Mom's permanent today. That's usually $50. My sister came last night and just dropped some cash on the table. When I counted it today, instead of it being the $50 I asked for, it was $100. I couldn't believe my eyes.
I called Martha to thank her and she said she couldn't help much, but she could help us a little and she knew that this month was very financially challenging for us.
All I could think of was, "Wow."
Of course I thanked her and she said she didn't want me to thank her, that she knew we needed help. I just about fell off my chair.
This behavior has to be from God. He's the only One who could pull this off.
Thank You, Lord, for this miracle, and keep 'em coming!

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

When I make an appointment for someone to come here, all I ask is that they be on time. Evidently that is too much to ask for some people in a state agency.
I made an appointment with a woman who was to come here at 9 a.m. a couple of weeks ago and when she hadn't shown up by 9:20 a.m., I called her only to find out that she thought I was coming to her office. I was disappointed and exasperated, but we talked and she asked me a bunch of questions to determine which programs I might be qualified for. Then on Tuesday, she called and wanted to come here to discuss those programs and I said it wasn't convenient for her to come and could we schedule another time. I again asked her to please schedule an early appointment because it would be easier to talk with Mom still in bed. So we made an appointment for Wednesday morning at 9 a.m. for her to come here.
It is such a big deal for anyone to come to the house because Mom is getting so she doesn't want any company. So I must explain to her who is coming and the purpose for their visit and hopefully she won't object too much.
So on Tuesday night, right before Mom went to bed, I told her I was going to have company and the woman would be here early.
Wednesday morning, I got up extra early, made sure the house was tidy and neat, and was ready for the woman by 8:55 a.m. Nine o'clock came and went and still no one came. At 9:10, the phone rang, waking Mom up, and it was the woman saying she was on her way. I just couldn't believe it. From her office, it usually takes between 20-25 minutes to get here, so she wouldn't have been here until at least 9:30 or later. And after the phone rang, of course Mom got up, which afforded us no opportunity to really talk.
I just got so upset at this woman. I told her I didn't need any more stress in my life and she was certainly adding to it at this point. I asked why she was late this time, and she said she had gotten a phone call. I said I couldn't talk to her any longer and hung up.
Then I got angry.
I called her supervisor, who of course didn't answer her phone, so I left a detailed message. And then I went outside to work in the garden. I just had to get out of the house.
When I came back inside, the supervisor had left me a message, making excuses for her employee and saying I had to be more flexible.
I returned her phone call and had to leave yet another message, indicating as calmly as I could, just how upset I was and that I didn't want to work with this woman.
The supervisor returned my call and began to make excuses again and I told her quite frankly I didn't want to hear them. Finally, she agreed to come out to the house herself next Monday at 8:30 a.m. to talk to me.
The thing is, I just want them to respect me and my time. I make plans every day about what I must do to take care of Mom the best way I know how. Those plans are always flexible, because I never know what the day may bring. But my time is just as precious as anyone else's and I need them to respect that. It's not like I can just drop everything and do what they want at their convenience.
I felt like they don't respect me or my time. I hope, IF they show up on Monday, that I will not need to communicate that I feel disrespect from them.
We'll see.

Keeping my mouth shut

As I grow older and hopefully wiser, I know that sometimes it's better to just keep my mouth shut than to blurt out something that I really don't want to say out loud.
Today, my sister usually comes over to give me a break, but when she called last night, I told her she didn't have to because I had a break on Wednesday. I thought perhaps she would come to see Mom anyway, but it's after 2 p.m. and she hasn't shown up. It's been almost a week since she has seen Mom.
I just don't get it.
And the thing is, I know I can't say anything to her. This is one of those things where she is making her own choices and I can't do anything about it. But it sure bugs the hell out of me.
So if I did say something to her, what would it be?
I would hopefully be very calm as I tell her that now Mom can't remember my sister's name most of the time and it's not going to get any better. Doesn't Martha realize that every moment she spends with Mom is precious?
I want to ask her how she is feeling about what Mom is going through. Is that why she stays away? Is that why she never takes her out to lunch? Or for a ride to see the fall colors?
I suggested last night during our brief conversation that Martha invite Mom to her house to see all the trick-or-treaters since she gets close to 100 little ghouls and goblins at her door. She said that she would ask Mom and I hope Mom goes.
But for Martha not to come to see Mom - well, I just don't understand.
So, and I say this as I clench my fist and grit my teeth and know that God needs to put His Hand over my mouth, I will continue to not say a word and just take care of Mom the best way I know how.
It still bugs the hell out of me though.

My sister was my brother last night

Mom seemed very confused last night, more than usual.
Just before she went to bed, she asked me why the man hadn't come to visit or called.
I asked who she meant because we have no visitors who are men.
She said the teacher who lives downtown.
I just couldn't figure out who she meant.
Then she said the man was my brother.
I told her I have no brother and asked her if she meant my sister who teaches and she adamantly said absolutely not. She just could not think of his name and she was so ashamed that she couldn't remember. After a long discussion and me trying to unravel the mystery of who she was trying to remember, it finally came to her that indeed it was my sister she was trying to remember.
Martha had called earlier that evening to say she wasn't up to visiting today and maybe she would drop by tomorrow.
Mom didn't remember that conversation at all. The conversation that was held only a couple of hours before.
And she absolutely couldn't remember Martha's name.
Martha hasn't seen Mom in a week. When she came this afternoon after school, Mom recognized her right away and came to tell me we had company.
I think Mom couldn't remember Martha because she hadn't seen her in so long. It's Martha's decision about how often she comes to see Mom, but if she continues to only see her once a week, I believe there will come a time when Mom won't recognize her. And that time might be fast approaching.
Although Mom's decline is not fast moving right now, I keep noticing little things that she could do before that she has trouble with now. And I think about when she was diagnosed in April and how quickly she has changed since then.
Yes, God is whispering to me that I can't change Martha or how she handles this situation. All I can do is love my Mom and let Martha handle this her own way.
Gee, does this mean I must stop being a control freak? Yep, I think God is making His point hit home.

Tears of frustration

I finally got the courage to give Mom the written evaluation test that the neurologist sent home with us on Monday. I procrastinated doing it because I was simply afraid of what the results might be.
And I was right. Although I tried to mimic the nurses who I watched administer the test before, Mom still could not communicate to me what the test required. She couldn't tell me what day it was, the month, the city where we live, the state or even as she looked out the window at the autumn leaves, she couldn't tell me what season it is.
So with a heavy heart, I marked down her score and sealed it. It was 2 points below what an earlier test had scored.
As I was cleaning the kitchen, I heard Mom crying. I went into her bathroom and she was sitting on her little chair where she puts on her shoes just absolutely bawling. I asked what was wrong and she said, "Sally, I know all those answers, but I can't tell them to you." And she began sobbing again. I told her I knew she knew those answers. And then I left her because I began crying too.
This is so unfair. My Mom is one of the strongest, most courageous women I know. Why does she have this disease that is robbing her of all her dignity? God and I will have a long talk about this!
And it doesn't help that I cried too, but I just couldn't help it. It broke my heart to see Mom so frustrated. And the rest of the day she seemed kind of defeated.
I HATE this disease. I feel so damned helpless!

Third visit to the neurologist

Monday Mom had her third visit with the neurologist.
He asked how Mom was doing and talked to Mom a little. He attempted to give her an evaluation test, where he asked her questions such as what day it is, the month, what city she lives in, etc. After trying unsuccessfully to get her to answer questions, he looked at me and said he believed her condition had deteriorated. I responded that she was nervous because she was out of her element and that if she was at home, perhaps she would respond more successfully. The doctor sent me home with a copy of the test and I am to mail it back to him.
I really think Mom is maintaining. She just doesn't seem worse to me, but I might be denying a lot of signs too. I am really trying to be aware of her actions and condition, but I am also aware that I still am her daughter and I don't want to see a lot of things she does.
And Martha, my sister, was there.
I prayed and prayed about seeing her again after her rude behavior on Saturday. I give thanks to God for the peace that I feel right now about Martha.
I finally realized that I can't change her - I can't change her behavior or the way she chooses to react to Mom's condition. All I can do is do my best to take care of Mom.
I am such a control freak that I always think that I can make Martha change, that if I just point out to her that she is being rude or that her behavior is hurtful, that she will realize it and change her behavior. But God finally pointed out that I can't change her - only Martha can change and I really don't believe she ever will. And realizing that, and God finally slapping me on my thick skull, makes me feel so much more at peace. When she is rude or hurtful, I am choosing not to respond. I will ignore her completely. I will pray each time I think I might have contact with her, so that I am very aware of what might happen and listen to God if I do respond to her in any way. And I will pray ... and pray ... and pray ...

Feeling beaten up today

This morning I slept until 11 a.m. I never sleep that late. I am usually a morning person. But after yesterday, I guess I needed some rest.
What do you say to a sibling who doesn't want to talk about something that's happening in your family but unleashes all the mean-ness she can muster?
Yesterday was my usual break. My sister has volunteered to come for a few hours one afternoon during the weekend so I can get out of the house. She has been showing up between 10:30 and 11:30 a.m., but yesterday she didn't. I got up early, showered, washed my hair and ran to the grocery store before Mom got up. Then I made some egg salad so Mom could have some lunch with Martha. I was going to stir up some cinnamon rolls for some friends, but when I looked at the clock it was getting close to 11 a.m. so I didn't. By noon, my sister hadn't come or called, so a little after noon, I called her. She said she had finished exercising and was at Hallmark getting a birthday card. She arrived a few minutes later.
My rolls could've been raising in the pans by the time she got here.
Before I left, I said I was going to get some apples a local produce market.
That's the first thing I did was get some of their wonderful sweet juicy apples. And although it was a little cool, the sun was shining so bright and inviting that I drove to Rainier to a local Amish furniture store to look at their beautiful furniture and dream a bit. Then I drove to a mall, parked and called a friend. After about an hour on the phone with her, I stopped to get some Chinese food and went home.  I was gone about three hours.
When I walked in the door, I had the apples in a bag and my Chinese food. My sister and Mom were sitting on the couch.
I put the bags down and sat down in the living room and my sister looked at me and said, "Well, I don't see any apples!"
It took me a minute to digest what she had said and then I shot back, "Well, Martha, they're in the kitchen in a bag by the refrigerator."
"Well, I guess I'm leaving," she said and left. As she walked out the door, I said, "Goodbye, Martha," and she replied, "Goodbye" in a tone that said, "I never want to see you again."
I didn't cry then, but my feelings were really hurt. What I had done now? And why did she say something like that? All questions that will remain unanswered because Martha will NOT talk about what she's feeling about Mom and what's happening to her. So I don't know if she didn't want to come yesterday and felt obligated or if she just needed to take out something on me or what.
All I do know is that I was so hurt.
If she doesn't want to continue to be with Mom on the weekend, all she has to do is tell me and I can make other arrangements.
Later that night I watched a movie about a dog and at the end I was just bawling. The tears just came and came and wouldn't stop. I know it just wasn't about the movie, that it was just all the crap welled up in me about the day. I think the well got pumped out last night. I even emptied a box of tissue.
So this morning, I woke up and my whole body felt like someone had punched me over and over.
I guess it will take time to heal.
And I am so looking forward to going to the neurologist because my sister will be joining us. I wish she wouldn't come at all. She just adds more stress.

Doing dishes

I'm really trying not to take over all of Mom's chores, but it's getting more and more difficult.
I do all the cooking and Mom wants to do the dishes, mainly because she thinks I don't get them clean enough.
We are almost out of dish soap, but we have just enough for tonight's dishes. Instead of using the last dab of soap, I caught her getting ready to squeeze some Jet Dry in the dish water. I just lost my temper at her because she scared me. I asked if she wanted to make us sick and I actually yelled at her. I squeezed the dish soap into the sink to make enough soapy suds and left her. I tossed the Jet Dry and the empty bottles of soap into the trash and will clean out the rest of the cabinet under the sink tomorrow.
I know I shouldn't analyze how her brain is working, or rather how her brain isn't working, and I really have tried to just accept how she acts and thinks. But it's things like this that just plain scare me. And because it's the second time I've caught her doing this, I wonder how many other times she has done it. The first time I caught her putting Windex into the sink to wash dishes with, but that was a few months ago. That scared the living daylights out of me. And that was after I caught her trying to use Windex to dust the furniture.
There are little signs she may be declining, such as not being able to read the numbers on a clock to tell the time and not being able to read what day it is. I know she thinks it's just easier to ask me, but when I ask her if she can't read the numbers on the microwave, she says she can't. And when I ask her to do it in front of me, she reads each number one by one, not like she's reading the time of day.
I guess it's just been a long day. I catch myself waking up in the middle of the night waiting to hear Mom breathe or make some kind of sound. I'm sleeping in a chair in our living room so I can be close to her and hear her if anything happens. I'm finding it more difficult to sleep each night.
So tonight when I say my prayers, I will ask for patience and understanding - again. And most of all, LOVE.

This is my life now

As if I didn't have enough on my mind, I'm considering the future. If something happens to Mom, what will I do? It's not like I'm really worried about the future, I'm just wondering.
Mom has been the center of my life for a long time now. Even before she became ill, I always came home to her after work and prepared supper. I rarely went out after work with coworkers and even on weekends, I would stay home. I used to volunteer with the Humane Society when they would adopt dogs and cats at the mall, but Mom became so angry when I left her that I had to quit.
And when I was a reporter and the younger reporters wanted to get together after work or on a weekend, I had good intentions of meeting with them, but it seemed Mom always had some type of crisis I had to attend to when I'd come home and couldn't go. It was hard to explain to them that I had different responsibilities than they did at that time of their lives.
So when we went to the Oregon Coast, one of my all time favorite places on Earth, I wondered what it would be like to live there. I lived in Tillamook, Oregon, for about three years and loved it, but if I'm going to be that close to the ocean, I want to be ON the ocean, not near it. And what kind of job would I get? Should I take a chance and begin my own business? If so, what kind of business? And if not, what kind of job?
And is that the right place to go? Is that where God wants me to be?
I know I won't stay in Longview. There's nothing for me here. My sister and I aren't close at all and our relationship will remain the same way. And I really don't care for Longview. I like all the conveniences, but I don't care for living in this town.
I thought about going to Eastern Washington, maybe even back to Colfax, but there's really nothing there for me, except a lot of good memories and that it will always be home. And I don't think I could handle the winters there any more. I thought about moving to Walla Walla, but I don't want to be in the same town as that stupid Mary York, a former friend.
So I'm left with wondering where I will be and what I will be doing.
I guess I better just relax and leave it up to God.

Good days

Mom has had two good days. I am learning that Alzheimer's does that - just when you think the patient is not doing so well, they start doing better.

I haven't helped Mom make her bed or do her bathroom morning and evening rituals for the last couple of days. She even remembered her nail appointment, but this time I walked her to the correct spot. She just seems more like my "old" Mom, but I know that will change at any moment.

I was thinking that since we're having such beautiful fall days and no one knows when that will end, that this might be a good time to go to Mount St. Helens, one of Mom's favorite places. So last night, I asked Mom if she'd like to go and she said she'd been thinking about it.

That's how it used to be with us - we could almost read each other's thoughts and finish each other's sentences. Oh how I miss that. But for the last two days, it's almost been that way.

Mom rose at her usual time this morning - about 10 a.m. - and began her usual routine. When I asked if she still wanted to go to the mountain, she said of course and got ready to go. After she finished breakfast and some other morning chores, off we went on a gorgeous fall day. It takes well over an hour to get to Hoffstadt Bluffs, where we usually stop, but the day was so clear, that I decided to drive on so Mom could see the mountain more clearly. So we climbed passt the Forest Learning Center and finally stopped at a lookout not far from Coldwater Ridge. I asked Mom is she'd like to go on and she said yes, so on we drove. And about 10 miles later, we were at Johnston Ridge. Actually we stopped at Loowit Lookout, and peered at the looming volcano before us. It still takes our breath away. And Mom couldn't get over all the trees we can still see 30 years later that were blown down and stripped during the eruption. And the bare bluffs blown down to solid rock.

She couldn't remember ever going to Johnston Ridge, but now she can. Hopefully. The weather was about as perfect as anyone could ask for. We even saw Mount Rainier in the distance.

I hope I am able to build more memories for Mom; even if they aren't new to me most of them are new to her.

And I thank God for every day and every trip I am able to take with her.

My break today

Finally after two weeks I got a break today. It was a beautiful fall afternoon and I enjoyed every minute. But my enjoyment didn't come without a price.

Mom is getting worse. Last night she came into the living room and said she couldn't find her toothpaste. I tried to tell her where it was, but she just couldn't find it and came back with a tube of Vaseline.

When she began not finding her things she needs daily, I got a little basket and put it on her counter in her bathroom. I made sure all of her necessities were in there, but now it's not helping. When we "found" the toothpaste, I asked her if she could read the label and she said no. Other than directly supervising what she's doing, which she absolutely hates, I don't know what else I can do.

She also said that someone had come into her bedroom and completely messed up her bed. I went into her bedroom and the only "mess" I could see was that her comforter wasn't on the bed. So together, we made her bed. She had just forgotten how.

Today when my sister came over to let me have my break, Mom and I were in the middle of Mom's morning ritual. At least my sister can now see how bad Mom is. My sister also got to see how Mom "makes" her breakfast with me giving her step-by-step instructions. My sister had never seen that and I don't believe she knew what goes on every morning. Now she does.

It's kind of frustrating for me because my sister never talks to me about Mom, so I don't know what she's feeling or how she is coping and I can't even guess. She and I are so different and handle things very differently.

I think Mom and my sister had a good afternoon because they tried to do a jigsaw puzzle. At least that was a little entertainment for Mom, rather than just sitting or watching TV. I hope they can share more afternoons like this.

While I was on my break, I went to a restaurant Mom and I always liked. I went by myself, which I hate to do, but I also realized this might be my new normal. Doing things by myself. Alone. Things Mom and I used to do. I really don't want to think about that.

The trip

The good thing about traveling with an Alzheimer's patient is that everything is new. The bad thing about traveling with an Alzheimer's patient is that everything is new.

We had a safe trip to Pacific City, Oregon, although it rained on us almost the whole way to our destination. We traveled along the Oregon Coast Highway, or U.S 101, which allows travelers to see magnificent views of the Pacific Ocean, the waves crashing against the rocky shores. Unless there's dense fog and then you can't see a darned thing. That was the case on this trip.

Being born and raised in Eastern Washington, it was always a real treat for us to go to the ocean. We always used to play this game of who could see the ocean first. Keeping an ever vigilant eye, my sister and I would try to beat each other at this game. On the way to Cannon Beach, we would always spot the ocean at about Ecola Park. But not on this day. We actually didn't see any ocean until we arrived at Pacific City and looked out our third floor window. We wouldn't have seen anything then but it was high tide and the waves were close to us.

Although Mom and I have visited Pacific City many times and stayed at the Inn at Cape Kiwanda, she couldn't remember, but thought the room was lovely and the view wonderful. That was my main goal - to let her have a memorable trip.

I helped Mom unpack. She is most comfortable with everything in its place in a chest of drawers, so I helped organize her clothing and hang up some of her clothes.

The next morning, we were greeted by bright sunshine all day long. It got a tad above 70 degrees, and it even got quite warm in our room, but we didn't care. We sat out on our lanai, watched all the beachcombers, dogs, campers and about a dozen surfer dudes all day long. Then we enjoyed a fabulous sunset. Mom seemed content, but had a little problem when she wanted to take the dog on a potty break. I told her I could watch her and she had gone for a little walk with me just a couple hours before. When several minutes had passed with no sign of the dog or Mom, I was just about at the door when there was a knock. It was Mom accompanied by one of the desk clerks. Mom became confused as she got to the lobby and finally asked the clerk for help. It was yet another lesson for me about what Mom can't do. And also another realization about how bad she's really getting.

I also got another wake-up call. I went into the bathroom and there was poop on the toilet seat. I was mortified because I thought I had done it. After washing it off, as I sat on the commode, I noticed poopy wads of toilet paper in the trash basket and realized Mom had done it. I asked her about it a few minutes later and she told me she just couldn't remember what to do with the paper. I told her it's just like home, so put dirty paper in the toilet, not the trash.

Another nice day put us in a traveling mood and so we went through Lincoln City and Depoe Bay to Otter Crest and the Devil's Punchbowl. Mom didn't remember any of the familiar places we had been so many times before, so as we travelled, I tried to jog her memory. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't.

It was very windy at the Punchbowl, which made the waves on the incoming tide crash on the rocks below our vantage point. After we walked and peered over the fence to the rocks below, we decided to head back. As I started to back up, Mom asked me to go the other way. The parking area just makes a small circle so I asked what other way and she said many times, "You know, the other way where you can see the other side." I still don't know what she meant, but after we returned to the inn, she said it sure was a shame we didn't get to see the whole thing. Sigh.

Each night as she got ready for bed, I had to direct her which drawer held her pajamas, her undies and where her toothpaste was. And each morning, I had to show her where her clothes were and where the toothpaste was.

We were to stay four nights, but on our third morning, my little poodle had blood in her stool and we cancelled the rest of our trip and hurried home to the vet. Mom was very good, although I took over all the packing. We got home late this afternoon, after the vet said it was nothing serious and sent us home with medication.

After supper and dishes were done, I finally got to relax as Mom got ready for bed. She came in to say goodnight and a few minutes later, she came into the living room with a Macy's shopping bag. She sat it in front of me and pulled out a clean undershirt and a pair of socks. I asked what she was doing and all she said was, "This is all I had." I asked what else was in the bag and she pulled out several pairs of the disposable panties she wears every night. As she started to put them back in the bag, I said they don't belong in the bag and she became very defiant and told me they were going to stay in the bag if she wanted them there. And then I lost my temper. I grabbed the panties, yelled they were not going back in the bag, and proceeded to put them in their proper place so she can find them every night. Of course she got angry and then I felt guilty for yelling, but I was at the absolute end of my rope.

I wonder why she does these weird things at night? Is it some kind of cycle that folks with Alzheimer's go through?

Yet another lesson learned. And although this trip was for Mom, I did get to be at the beach and after Mom would go to bed and before she woke up, I did get some private time.

I don't know when or IF we'll get to the beach again, but at least I know Mom had a good time. And perhaps she'll remember it for a while.

Going to the beach

Preparing for a trip is always hard work. Making sure you pack everything, getting your vehicle ready to go, making sure you have cash in case someone doesn't take a debit card, etc. I usually make a list, but I threw the list away this time.

For Mom's 90th birthday, my two cousins from Seattle gave her a gift certificate to stay at her favorite place on the Oregon Coast. We wanted to go after school started and finally made reservations. My cousins gave Mom enough money for us to stay four nights, a real treat for us. At least I'm hoping it's going to be a treat. Right now I'm not sure how this is going to turn out.

Things began to deteriorate yesterday when I asked Mom to pick some clothes out to pack for the beach. She asked why and I told her we were leaving in a couple of days and she needed to begin to get ready, to see if anything she wanted to take needed washing, etc. She said she didn't know we were going to the beach. I tried to remind her, but nothing I said worked. She just didn't remember and thought I was making up a big story about making reservations a month ago. I finally convinced her to get her suitcase out and we got most of her clothing packed, except for pj's and undies. At least I felt like I accomplished something.

Today, I got our cash, washed and waxed the car (that she's still convinced is new) and filled up with gas. I told Mom exactly what I was going to do and then said she should finish packing. She asked where we were going and if we were leaving right away and I said we are going to the beach and no, not until the next day. She went into her bedroom to finish packing and when I walked in to see if I could help, she had a whole other suitcase she was packing. I asked her to put the other suitcase away and that we could put everything in the one suitcase.

Then she said if it's raining she didn't really want to go. OK, this is the Pacific Northwest and we have rain here. I asked if she wanted to go at all and she said yes, and I said then we're going, period.

I love the ocean. I want this to not only be Mom's vacation, but I want a little vacation too. I haven't been to the ocean in three years and I can almost hear the surf and see the waves as I write this.

But I am such a control freak. I like to plan every single thing and God is teaching me, and being very patient I might add, that I can't possibly control everything. This is a very difficult lesson for me to learn, but I am slowly learning. God and Mom are teaching me.

And when we get to the beach, I will try very hard to go with the flow and be in the moment and enjoy every moment I have with Mom. Because this might be our last beach trip together, I never know. I hope it won't be, but it could be. My main objective is that Mom enjoys every moment at the beach and that she remembers this trip as a pleasant one. That's my goal.

No break today

Always expect the unexpected. That is what I'm learning.

Today I was supposed to get a few hours to myself. The rain had let up and it was a pleasant afternoon. Martha had actually asked Mom to come over to her house, so Mom was ready to go a little after 1 p.m. After we got in the car and she commented again on my "new" car, I told Mom that I was going to drop her off at Martha's and then go get a cup of coffee and take a little drive. Then Mom get that look on her face.

Every child knows this look. It's the "Well, if I have to," look. I asked Mom if that was OK and she said no, it wasn't OK. She wanted me there with her.

I had counted on this time to myself. I had been looking forward to it for a couple of days. I didn't have anything special planned except getting an iced coffee drink at one of my favorite spots and then just taking a little drive. So instead of time to myself, I drove over to my sister's and stayed there with Mom. On the way over there, I almost cried. I just had counted on it so.

My sister was surprised when I said I was staying and offered no help at all. She did take Mom for a walk and then I went to get my coffee, so I guess I got about 15 minutes. As Mom and Martha were walking away, Mom turned to me and asked if I'd be right back. I assured I would and I was waiting when they returned to my sister's house. And next weekend, Martha is gone to the beach, so I won't get a break then either. I don't want to be selfish, but I'm finding I really need this time to myself. But Mom was really clingy today and I don't know why.

I'm thinking she doesn't feel comfortable at Martha's house. It's not that my sister's house isn't comfortable, but I think Mom feels better in her own surroundings. I might have to negotiate with Martha so she will come over here. And Martha needs to come over more often. Most of the time Mom can't remember Martha's name and one of these days, she won't remember Martha. But Martha doesn't seem to realize how bad Mom is. I suppose Martha will have to deal with that at some point.

I think I'm just tired.

Cataracts

Mom went to the eye doctor today. She hadn't been to him in a little over a year, and since she developed cataracts, he likes to check her annually.

We got into my car and she said, "Is this your new car?" She has been on this kick for a few days now. Some how she believes that I have a new vehicle. I always say, no, it's same one I've had for the last 13 years. I can't figure out what changed in her mind, but she swears that I have a different rig.

I carry Mom's walker in the car so it's available when we need it. It made me feel sad to get it out today and watch her use it, but I am also thankful that she doesn't fight me about using it, at least not yet. She didn't say a word when I got it out of the car - she just stepped right up to it and walked.

At the doctor's office, he patiently examined Mom. I had filled out an update form and had to indicate that she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's which just about killed me. The doctor said the cataracts were bad enough that Mom might want to consider surgery. He said perhaps she could read a bit better after the surgery. He said the local hospital has state-of-the-art equipment for cataract surgery and recommended a doctor who is trained on the new equipment. He said to discuss it and let him know. I hesitated mainly because of Mom's age. It's a risky procedure, as all surgeries are. But he also said we could wait a year and it wouldn't make any difference. So, I'll discuss it with my sister and see what she says.

Mom used to be a voracious reader. She not only read the paper every day, but she devoured books. Then she just lost interest in reading altogether. Of course the print on the newspaper is so small I can hardly read it any more, but when my sister brought over some large print books, Mom would look at it and then put it down. So I wonder if she just can't comprehend enough to enjoy reading any more. She does glance through our hometown newspaper every week, but then after she knows I've read it, she asks me if I noticed anything in the paper.

After the appointment, as I started the car, Mom asked, "Now who does this belong to?"
I give up.

Feeling guilty

Today I had my second real break. I took Mom to my sister's house a little before 2 p.m. and dropped her off. I told Mom I was taking a drive and would be back in a little while.

As I pulled out of my sister's, I felt so tired. I drove toward home and instead of going anywhere today, a lovely fall day, I decided to just go home. It was the right decision, but I felt guilty.

It was so nice and peaceful here at home. No one coming into the room while I'm on the computer to demand I get something done right now. Not even a little dog who wanted to be held. So I played on the computer, watched a John Denver special on OPB, took a short nap and read.

Close to two hours of doing this, I began to feel guilty. I was ashamed that I wanted to just be alone for a while. I know I won't have Mom forever and I don't want to think about what life will be like without her. And I love her more than I can say. And I love my little adorable poodle. It's just that I really needed a break I guess. And maybe I shouldn't feel guilty about this, but I did.

Tonight things are back to normal. Mom is in the living room watching a special about Big Band music and really enjoying it. The dog is on her lap after I told her I wouldn't hold her any more. And I'm listening for any movement just in case Mom gets up and starts wandering.

And I'm already looking forward to a break next weekend.

When Mom feels sick

Mom woke me up last night and said she wasn't feeling well. Immediately I pictured a trip to the Emergency Room, which we've done several times with Mom. I asked what was wrong and because she can't communicate very well, she really couldn't tell me. So I had to play 20 questions.
Is it your tummy?
Yes.
Is it a sharp pain?
No.
Does your tummy feel puffy?
Yes.
Can I get you anything?
No.
She sat in her chair for a while and said she was feeling better. She went back to bed without any more complaint.
However, I spent the night wondering if she'd be alright the next morning or if she would get me up again and want to go to the doctor.
At 90 years old, you just never know what might be going on with Mom. Physically she's been pretty good, but I always worry when she says she's not feeling well. All night I listened for her breathing. I checked on her and heard her breathe just fine.
She woke up with no pain and had a good day today. She ate very well although I didn't let her eat anything too rich.
And then I realized what the culprit might have been - chocolate chip cookies. I think she made one too many trips to the cookie jar. Guess I'll have to put a lock on the cookie jar or be the cookie cop.

A good day

I feel like I've been whining a lot lately, so I want to make note of a good day, actually a couple of good days in a row, which I am very thankful for.

Mom was in her element yesterday. She cleaned. Although I have taken over most of the household chores now, yesterday Mom dusted. I had to show her where the Swiffer was and put a new one on the little wand for her, but then she dusted and it was like I had my "old" Mom back again. She dusted the whole house I think and enjoyed every minute.

I like to see her doing something she knows contributes to the household because I think sometimes she feels pretty useless.

Then she was so exhausted she had to sit down for a rest which usually means a nap.

And as she napped, I baked some bread. That's a good therapy too, especially if it's the kind of bread you must knead. I can take out all my frustrations on that small pile of dough and know that it's good for the dough! By the time Mom woke up, the bread was out of the oven and we could share some warm bread with melted butter on it.

And I thank God for every good day.

Wandering and having a nice afternoon

Another symptom of Alzheimer's is the victim wandering and not knowing what they are wandering for or wandering to. I hoped to avoid this with Mom, but I don't think I'm going to be that lucky.

The other night, less than an hour after I had fallen asleep, my little poodle made a sudden movement. Since she sleeps next to me, I felt her and woke up with a start. Standing right in front of me was Mom.

I asked her what was wrong and she said she heard a very loud noise. I told her I hadn't heard anything and the dog had not reacted to anything, but she insisted she was awakened by some loud noise. I tried to convince her otherwise, but she wouldn't listen and decided to check all the locks on both doors and walk around the inside of the house to make sure everything was alright.

The next morning, she didn't remember a thing. This is another new normal.

This afternoon, my sister actually came over to be with Mom while I got out of the house for a couple of hours. I went to Lowe's and as I was racing around trying to find items on my list, I realized I could actually take my time, something I couldn't normally do. And I did. I also got a blended coffee drink that really hit the spot and then went for a drive and ended up at a park that overlooks the Columbia River. As I watched the boats and sipped on my drink, I called a good friend and chatted with her for an hour and a half. It was glorious. I think I was gone for almost four hours and I realize I need to do that more often. So every weekend, my sister will come here or I will drop Mom and the dog off at my sister's and I will get some time all to myself. Yep, I felt guilty not being with Mom. But I also realize that I need time to do some things I wouldn't ordinarily do. And it felt good.

Expect the unexpected

We were invited to a friend's birthday party last night. Mom was doing very well, even actually remembering that we were going (after I reminded her). She picked out which clothes she wanted to wear and asked my opinion about them. She washed her hair (which I have to ask her to do or she won't do it).

While she was resting, I felt comfortable enough to make a quick trip to the store to pick up a gift and some extra ingredients for the potato salad I volunteered to make.

When I returned from my trip, everything was going well. I made my salad, got the dog ready to go and Mom said she was going to take a shower. I reminded her what time we needed to leave and told her how much time she had and then I ran through the shower myself.

I just finished dressing, and noticed I had enough time to gather everything and everyone into the car, when Mom appeared in her bedroom door with only her panties on. I was dumbfounded and asked what was going on, that we only had about five minutes before we should leave.

"I made a mess," she said. So I followed her into her bedroom thinking that she had a bad experience on the toilet. "I just kept turning around and around in my bathroom and I didn't know what to do," she said. "I finally got into the shower and washed. But now I don't know what else to do."

Gently I guided her through getting dressed, putting her shoes on and combing her hair. She changed her mind about what to wear and finally seemed satisfied about her choice.

Now I am the type of person who HATES to be late for anything. And although I was chomping at the bit to leave, I knew this was one of those times that my support group buddy would remind me to, "Expect the unexpected." And although we were about a half hour late, it really wasn't that big of a deal.

I worried about Mom all night at the party, but she had a really good time. She ate really well and even visited a little. Since she's so hard of hearing (and refuses to get a hearing aid), visiting isn't easy for her, but she did very well. She really hasn't socialized much since her diagnosis in April, so this was good for her.

Without my support group system though, I think I would already be crazy or at least drinking heavily. My friends and the support group I attend are helping tremendously. I thank God for them.

And this is yet another reminder that I must be more conscious of how bad Mom is and that our lives seem to be changing every single day.

Finding my underwear

Several friends have told me that I must keep my sense of humor about Mom having Alzheimer's. I have found that to be very difficult, but this incident requires a good laugh if not just a smile.

Since Mom has gotten so bad, I have taken over the laundry duties up to folding the clothes. After a load gets done in the dryer, Mom wants to fold the laundry, and I want her to feel as useful as possible, so I just leave her alone, she doesn't want me to hover, and she takes as long as she likes as she folds and puts everything away. Although I need to rearrange things every once in a while, she had been doing very well until yesterday.

I couldn't find my undies. I looked in every drawer that I could imagine and I still couldn't find them. She has put some of my things in her drawers in the past, so I went into her bedroom and searched through every drawer in her dresser, still not finding my lost laundry (and realizing I have to clean out her drawers - it's no wonder she complains about not finding anything).

Finally I give up and begin to go through my drawers again and UREKA! There are several pairs of panties neatly tucked under some undershirts in a drawer directly under my usual stash. I laughed and placed them in their proper place. And when I quit laughing, I became sad. My "old" Mom never would have done that. She taught us to always keep our dresser drawers tidy. My "new" Mom is kind of doing the same thing, only she has several sock and underwear drawers now and her undergarments seem to be scattered everywhere.

For the first time this morning, too, I looked at Mom as she was eating her breakfast and thought, "Who is this person?" She's not really my Mom, although she looks like her. But when she looks at me, I don't see my Mom any more. I don't see Mom when I look into her eyes. I see this stranger who is in my Mom's body.

I guess it's time to get to know her.

Another sad day

Something happened that made me sad today.

I made an appointment for Mom to get her toenails clipped last week. I know I must tell her several times about any appointment, so I told her several times yesterday and right before she went to bed I reminded her about getting up a little earlier than usual for her appointment.

Mom had been going to this woman for quite a few years, so she is no stranger to her. She sees her about every 6 weeks or so and she is in the same building as Mom's hair stylist, so everything is very familiar to Mom - or I should say it should be familiar.

I had a bad feeling when we pulled into the parking lot and Mom asked if she was getting her hair done again. I replied no, she was getting her toenails done today.

I had a check made out for Mom to give to the manicurist and gave it to her as she got out of the car. I decided to wait for Mom because I knew it wouldn't take her very long and as she walked up the few steps to the manicurist, she immediately tried to go into her hair stylist's salon. I was parked very close and yelled that she was seeing Toni today, not doing her hair. I was just about to get out of the car when she stopped at another salon that had the door open and the woman inside directed her to the right place.

After about a half hour, here comes Mom with the manicurist as an escort. As Mom walked around to the other side of the car, Toni came over to me and said Mom didn't know her. She said Mom walked by her salon and paused, saying she had a check for Toni. "I'm Toni," she said, but Mom didn't believe her. Eventually she convinced Mom was where she was supposed to be.

Bless her heart, Toni said I could call her if I ever needed to talk. And I do need to talk and I thank God for all the offers of help and support.

But this made me sad. Even with the increased dose of Namenda, Mom doesn't seem to be holding her own. I guess I was just hoping that she would be on a level field for a while and maybe this was just a little setback. I hope so.

Still it makes me sad to see Mom like this because I remember the strong woman who stood up to her in-laws and my Dad when she needed to. I remember after my Dad died how strong she was, even in the face of in-laws who wouldn't help her in her time of need. I remember all the hard work she did and how she never once complained about it, she just did it because it needed to be done.

Because of all these memories, this time in her life makes me sad. Sometimes I think I just can't take it.

Paranoia

One of the effects of Alzheimer's is paranoia, which I thought Mom could avoid, but she proved me wrong.

Yesterday she took the dog outside first thing. When she tried to open the front door, it stuck as it sometimes does and I heard it so I opened the door for her.

Last night, after I got ready for bed, I noticed she was sitting up with the dog in her lap which is unusual. I asked her what was up and she said she had a few questions for me.

"Why did you lock me out of the house this morning?" she asked.

I was dumbfounded, and besides being tired and at 10:30 at night, I couldn't figure out what she meant.

She said, "When I tried to open the door this morning it was locked." I told her it was not locked, that it just got stuck and that's why I opened it for her.

"I know you locked the door," she said over and over again, and no matter how I tried to convince her I would NEVER lock her out of the house, she insisted I had. Finally I realized it was an argument I could never win.

I felt so sad to think that my Mom would even consider that I locked her out of the house. But it's another new normal for me. A few minutes later, after she was ready for bed, she acted as though she didn't even remember our conversation about the locked door. She probably didn't. That's one of the few good things about Alzheimer's - she forgets when we argue.

I went to Mass again this morning. It felt so good again. But this morning I was more prepared. Just in case Mom decided to rise early, I got her oatmeal ready and the toast in the toaster, so she could at least fix toast for breakfast and when I got home I could fix her oatmeal. Of course since I was prepared, she hadn't gotten up early and was barely out of bed by the time I got home from Mass. Like my good friend said, "Be prepared for anything."

I'm trying.

Mom's memory

Today Mom got a perm. It takes about two-and-a-half hours to get it done and by the time we got home and I got her lunch fixed, she was exhausted.

Alzheimer's is a funny disease. I've researched and read and read about it, but nothing really prepares me for what Mom does or how she is reacting to this disease.

My sister came over for one of her hour-long visits this afternoon after we had gotten home from the perm and she asked Mom if she was wearing the same top she wore to get her hair done. Mom responded immediately, which surprised me because I thought she wouldn't remember. However, she told my sister that she had three or four shirts just like the one she was wearing. And she had gotten them when she went to school. I wasn't quite sure what she meant, so I asked her what school. She said the school in Spokane. She graduated from Lewis and Clark High School in Spokane in about 1938.

I think it's interesting how her mind connected a shirt she is wearing in 2010 with clothing she wore when she went to high school 72 years ago. I want to know but of course I never will. I had to turn away so she and my sister wouldn't see my tears.

And on our way to the hair salon, everything was new to her. All the flowers in the neighbors' yards, the trees, business signs, they were all like she had never seen them before. I guess that's the one positive thing about this disease -- that everything seems new.

As I think about Mom's past behavior and look for signs of when this disease began, I remember going to the Oregon Coast (Pacific City is one of our favorite spots) about three years ago. As we traveled along the Columbia River on Oregon's border, Mom asked what all that water was. I just couldn't believe she couldn't remember the Columbia River, so I reminded her where we were going and what river it is. She just shrugged it off and said she had forgotten. But that was one of the signs that this disease was raising its ugly head.

It seems I've been in denial a long time. I just didn't want to see that something might be happening to the woman who had been my Rock all my life. I know I shrugged it off as old age. But it wasn't.

We're going to make another trip to the Oregon Coast the end of September, thanks to a generous gift from my evil cousins. I must remember to be prepared for anything and that all of that scenery we've seen about 85,000 times will be new to Mom. And as I learn to look at things through her eyes, it will be new to me too. That will make the trip even more special.

Mom's bathroom

This is another new normal for me.

I never go into Mom's bathroom unless it's to vacuum. Mom's usual morning ritual has always been after breakfast she cleans her bathroom. I thought she has been doing that all along, but I was wrong.

Last night, she came into the living room and asked me where her toothbrush was. I had no idea, so I went in her bathroom. As I started looking over the counter and in the cupboards, what I discovered was dirt and just a plain mess. I was shocked.

In her "other" life, Mom was so clean you could eat off the floor. And the bathroom was always spotless. I'm not going into detail here, but let's just say that there were dust bunnies where there's never been before and I won't even say anything about the toilet. This is so not like my Mom. It's just another thing I've got to get used to.

Mom insisted I buy her a plain toothbrush a while back, so I bought her two. She has one of those nice Sonic toothbrushes, but for some reason, she's decided not to use it. However, last night, when I couldn't locate any toothbrushes, I asked her about her electric one. She acted as though she hadn't seen it before and I think she actually used it.

And she says now that she's afraid of the shower, so every night I have to ask her if she is taking a shower. Sometimes I think she lies to me, just so I won't say any more to her. And she hates to wash her hair. Today I had to ask her several times to wash her hair and she finally did. But it's like she's a small child, because she procrastinates until some days it's too late for her to wash it. She's got lovely, thick hair that takes a long time to dry, so if it gets too late in the day, she has to wait until the next day to wash it. That was what she wanted to do today, but I wouldn't let her procrastinate.

Now I know why God didn't give me children. I wouldn't be a good parent at all.

I keep praying Mom won't get too much worse and before she does I hope the Good Lord cradles her in His arms and takes her home. And when I pray this, I cry.

Selling Mom's car

Today we sold Mom's car.
Mom took it better than I did.
It was out of necessity mostly because we just couldn't keep paying the insurance and maintenance on two vehicles. And I feel selfish not wanting to give up my own rig, but I just couldn't. I still feel selfish.

A very nice couple from here bought it and I believe they will appreciate the car as we did. As they drove away, Mom said, "We sure had a lot of fun in that car, didn't we?" It was one of her clearer moments.
The first major trip we took in Mom's car was to Big Fork, Montana. Not everyone knows where Big Fork is, but we had been to Flathead Lake in Montana several times and Big Fork is nestled on the northern edge of the lake. It's really an artsy little town that boasts several galleries and good food. But more important, it's right in the middle of lots of destinations such as Glacier Park, Kalispell, White Fish and Polson. We spent 10 glorious days there and had a blast. We shopped and shopped, and saw buffalo and even some Amish folks bouncing along a Montana backroad in a horse and buggy. Mom still has glimpses of that trip and today was one of those.
We put less than 20,000 miles on the car since we bought it six years ago. But it's traveled several times to Eastern Washington, Seattle, Tillamook, Pacific City, Lincoln City, Depoe Bay and Long Beach. Mom will always have fond memories of that car, the last car she owned. I guess that's the important thing. I think as long as we created those memories for her with the car, that's enough for her.
Me, on the other hand, hates to see it go because it's admitting yet another failure on my part to provide for Mom. I feel like because I can't pay my share of the bills like I have in the past, I have failed. I try to make it up to Mom by cooking her meals and taking care of her the best way I know how. But I still feel like a failure.
I asked Mom if she was sad to see the car go and she said no, that it was time to let it go since she couldn't drive it any longer. She watched it as it disappeared down the road with very little emotion. I cried.

Forgetting simple things

This morning I decided to go to Mass. I hadn't been in months and months and since this was Assumption, it was a perfect day to go. I don't particularly like the actual church I go to, but today I felt very thankful God allowed me to go to Mass and I dedicated my prayers to Mom. After Communion, I felt so thankful to God, I cried. Tears came easily and although I felt a little embarrassed by shedding tears in front of my fellow church goers, I shed them all the same. And as I drove home, I felt so good. But that didn't last long.

When I arrived home, I discovered Mom had gotten up just after I left. She hadn't gotten out of bed before 10 a.m. for more than a week, but this morning of all mornings, she decided to get up early. She was just finishing breakfast when I walked in the door and it wasn't her usual breakfast - just toast and a small glass of milk. I asked her why she didn't fix her oatmeal and she said she was afraid she wouldn't do it right. I walked into the kitchen and she had dropped a bunch of wooden toothpicks on the floor. I'm finding toothpicks everywhere nowadays. On the table, by her chair in the living room, on any kitchen counter. I picked the toothpicks up off the kitchen floor and asked Mom to be careful not to drop them. When I started to make toast for my own breakfast, I discovered there was no butter in the butter dish. I asked Mom what happened to the butter and she got defensive and said "I guess we ate it." I asked her why she didn't get some butter out of the fridge and she didn't answer. This is when she pretends not to hear a word I'm saying. I asked if she just had dry toast and she finally admitted she did. I felt so bad. Now I feel like I can't leave at all because she can't even remember where the butter is. This is just part of the "new normal" I must get used to. We prepared her oatmeal later in the day when she got hungry.

Wonder if I want to go to Mass again? Do I dare leave Mom on her own? Wonder if she wants to make her oatmeal after all and leaves the burner on high? Maybe I should just sneak out of the house from now on.

Additional burdens

When I quit my job in January to be with Mom, I had no idea what I was in for. Not only caring for Mom, but the financial worries that comes with this.

I have been trying to get a job working from home to no avail. I simply cannot leave Mom, even for an hour. The only place I go any more is to the grocery store and I hit the store running between 7:30 to 8:30 a.m. armed with a list. I fly through the store and am in the checkout line in 30 minutes and home in less than an hour. By that time, Mom is usually thinking about getting up and I am safe to unload the car and put away the groceries. If I wait any later in the day, Mom gets worried and has paced up and down the street looking for me. Or she decides to go out in the backyard with the dog just to look things over. She often says I've been gone a "long time" and asks where I was, even though I gently wake her before I leave, put the dog on the bed with her and tell her where I'm going.

I've gone online to look for work from home, but almost all of them sound like scams of some sort.

My entire savings is gone, which wasn't much, but it got me through the first six months of this year. And now Mom's savings is depleted and I don't know where to turn. That's partly why we have Mom's car for sale - not only can't we afford the insurance and maintenance on her car, but we just plain need the money. We've been trying to live on Mom's Social Security check, but that just isn't working.

I asked my sister for another loan, but she said she's had added expenses this month and may not be able to afford to help us out. She suggested Mom try to go on food stamps. Isn't that for really poor people? Oh, wait, I guess we fall into that category now! I hate the idea of going on food stamps. I was raised by two hard working parents who believed that hard work pays off and you earn your own way.

I know President Obama signed a bill recently to make sure caregivers of veterans get paid and I sure wish he would sign a bill similar to that for my type of giving care. I don't want to get involved with the state because they want all of Mom's assets and since she has her home and her farm land, I don't want the state thinking they could claim any of it. I think we live pretty tight as it is. Our only real luxury is when we go to Wendy's for hamburgers and now we can't even do that.

So I keep praying and praying and praying and I know God will take care of us. And if He's trying to teach me patience, He's doing a great job!

But we can't pay a couple of bills. And I know we'll need more groceries before Mom gets her next check in September and her meds need refilled and she needs a perm and two big insurance payments must be made. The word stress doesn't even begin to cover it.

In the meantime, all the added stress is going straight to my back. The muscles beneath my shoulders cramp and can be miserable. Ibuprofen helps. Or maybe I just need a stiff drink that will knock me out for a while. Trouble is, I don't drink, so to knock me out, it wouldn't even have to be a stiff one.

I did do something for myself today. I went to see "Eat Pray Love." I am reading the book and it's a good movie. I haven't been in a movie theatre for three years and had some gift cards so I could go to the show and even have popcorn. I've also been reading more, something besides information about Alzheimer's.

I took Mom to my sister's when I went to the movie. When I returned, Mom didn't say much. I asked if something was wrong and Mom said, "You didn't tell me you were leaving. You just left me here." That's enough to tear my heart out.

Second visit to the neurologist

August 12, 2010

Early this morning we went to see the neurologist for the second time. Her first appointment was only April 26. They put Mom through some tests, such as drawing a clock, naming different items on a suit, writing down a sentence, asking who the President is, what day it is, what month, etc. Mom could answer very few of the questions. It makes me so sad. When she asked how I was doing during the appointment, I told her truthfully that I wanted to cry. The doctor didn't spend much time with us but asked me pointed questions about her behavior. He said the tests indicated there wasn't much change, but he would trust my observations more than the tests. He said that we should try increasing the dose of Namenda to 10 mg twice a day and if Mom is still going downhill fast, then perhaps we should try Aricept. I told him I didn't expect her to get this bad this fast and he said it can happen this fast and could continue to do so. He wants to see Mom again in two months to assess how the Namenda is doing. Hence my wanting to cry. I HATE this.

And of course my sister was absolutely NO help at all. One of the test questions asked to list four animals that begin with "S." The example they gave was "Shark." Mom couldn't name one animal. And instead of acknowledging that Mom couldn't name one animal, my sister told me that the example was a poor one and they should have something else. I responded that I couldn't help it and she became snippy and said she knew that. I told her to take it up with the doctor and don't talk to me about it. I wish she hadn't come. She is more of a burden than any kind of help. Then when we got home, she claimed that the nurse didn't give Mom enough points from the test. I told her that it didn't really matter and she replied, "Well, it would have made me feel better." Really? It's all about my sister and her feelings, never mind anyone else's.

Mom took the whole thing in stride. She just enjoyed getting out of the house and seeing different scenery. I also took her walker. I didn't ask her, I just loaded it in the car and unloaded it when we got out. She got along so well with it, I couldn't believe it. There's more than one way to outsmart an old woman!! My Momma didn't raise no dummy!

The next hurdle is selling Mom's car. When I decided to post it on Craigslist and in The Nickel classifieds, I cried. Mom loved that car. She'd wanted a Toyota Camry for so long and when she finally got one, she took such pride in driving it. She named it "CC" for "Comfortable Car." I told her how I hated to sell it and now she can't remember naming it and can't remember ever wanting it. She said, as I was crying, "Sally, it's just a car." That made me cry even more. Because she got the point and I wasn't getting it at all.

Thanks to all my dear friends who have responded to this blog. I appreciate all the thoughts and prayers. This is very therapeutic for me and I may have to call on you more than once to cry or vent my anger or just chat. Thanks just isn't the right word. How about Muchas Gracias.

Tears today

August 11, 2010
Mom cried today. She doesn't cry often, but when she does, it breaks my heart. She began crying after she asked about a walker in the trunk of the car. I said she had never used it and I sure wish she would. It would be perfect for her to go shopping at Fred Meyer. It has a basket and a seat, so if she gets tired of walking, she could sit down. She also has a new walker that she hasn't taken out of the house yet, but the doctor insists she needs. After I explained all this to her, she cried. Ok, not just cried, she bawled. Loud. When I asked her what was wrong, she sobbed, "I'm just sad." That's when my heart broke and I had to walk away to hide my own tears.
And it was a battle to get her to wash her hair. She kept putting it off, saying she couldn't find her shampoo and she couldn't find her towel and she had to give the dog some water until finally I said, "Mom, please just wash your hair." She laughed and finally did. This is not something my "normal" Mom would do. But as one friend said, "This is your new normal."
I'm still getting used to the new normal. Perhaps I never will get used to it. Another wise friend said, "Sally, be prepared for anything." That's part of the new normal too.

And I'm dreading what tomorrow may bring. Mom has an appointment with the neurologist early tomorrow morning and I just don't want to hear what he has to say. I'm afraid. I know that I should have more faith than that, but I'm still afraid. I'm afraid that he might confirm my fears, that Mom is getting much worse and might need even more medication. What is that medication doing to her body? It doesn't seem to be slowing down the progression of the Alzheimer's. At least not much. I wish someone would tell me what to do and I would know that it was the right thing. I should just listen to God and I try but that's just difficult. I wish His voice would be louder, but it isn't. At least not to me. I will be interested to see my sister's reaction to all this since she wouldn't go to the first neurologist appointment in April. She is not acknowledging that Mom is as bad as she is. I think she's in deep denial. Which I was for quite a while, but looking back on the last five years or so, I can see that Mom was gradually showing signs of this awful disease. And I suspect that my Grandma Dora had it as well, but she was never diagnosed. I don't think any of Grandma Dora's sisters or brothers had it, but they've all passed away because of other health issues.

And so I keep praying and talking to people and reading about this disease that's stealing my Mom away from me.