Nothing personal

Maybe I am nesting – no probably not, but I am going through a cleaning phase so we have made several trips to the county refuse collection facility and the local charities to donate reusable items.  We have also rearranged a little.  Again, this is quite a bit of change for a little old lady who has a hard enough time figuring out the cabinet for coffee cups and how to run the dryer.

I really think some of our activity has sparked in mom an old feeling of keeping her own house, after all she has kept her own house for the better part of a century.  So, while I sort and clean, she has been hunting for things to “put away” or throw away.  She has also become quite bossy and possessive.

She had a bossy statement for me this morning and I chuckled at the realization that I was not allowed to answer back when I was a child and now I still can’t answer back!  At least now I don’t a reason to because I have nothing to prove despite the fact that that I truly believes she thinks of me as a child.  After all, I am her daughter and she has no recollection of me growing up, getting married, and having children and grandchildren.

So, it is nothing personal.  When she might have had an agenda for her statements before, she does not now.  She can’t.  The problem is that I forget that it is nothing personal and my feelings get hurt – actually my pride gets very wounded.  You see there is still that little girl inside of me that wants my mother to be proud of the woman I have become.  Lesson learned – tell my own children how proud I am of them and how much I love them  – as many times as I can.

Caring for the caregiver

Today, my focus shifts a little.  Because I want to share what life is like in our household as we care for a loved one with dementia – it includes us.  The intent is not to whine nor is it to glory in our efforts, but simply to open our front door so that we are not only transparent but truthful.  Too many times in my life our family has put on a facade of happiness and well being that did not reflect the true life of a family living together and I think that did more harm than good.

I am grateful that mom is still physically strong so the challenges don’t include those that might require us to help her with tasks such as bathing.  Mom is still able to contribute to the family by doing simple chores.  As a side note, I am struck by the way mom’s dementia has taken away her ability to remember points in her past and present, but has not diminished her capacity to do rote housework such as washing dishes or vacuuming.  For what seems like routine activities for us like cooking or setting the table, I have come to realize that each has differing requirements for processing hence mom’s ability to do some and not others.

So, back to my point – making sure we as caregivers take care of ourselves is just about as important as caring for our loved ones.  We need physical rest, leisure time, activities that stimulate our creativity and learning, and of course good nutrition and exercise.  We are not alone in our care for mom – this is a family enterprise – still with many challenges that create difficult decisions to make.  But some folks don’t have such resources.  I know there are well meaning and truly valuable programs run by local, state, and national organizations as well as non-profit and for-profit companies, but sometimes it just takes a friend or neighbor that notices and stays to chat at the mailbox or drop off some banana bread or send a care package with “fun” stuff in it for everyone.  Next post?  A list of a few of my favorite things and my address….just joking!

Home

One of the seemingly good ideas was to include mom in family activities.  So, all last week, we were on a road trip to see a couple of the grandchildren and two of mom’s three great-grandchildren.  There was no easy way to travel so we packed a lot of gear, made sure mom was comfortable and took to the road.

In hindsight, our goal was laudable.  In this time, when mom is still physically able and she can still identify family members, we would make sure the family could spend some time with her.  And, of course the fancy that mom just may enjoy herself and her extended family.

We were not entirely wrong but the week was trying and created more hardship for all of us – much more than we ever anticipated.  harleyI feel like I did not read my own writing or that any of my research seeped through my brain.  I wanted for some of what the “experts” said to be slightly off.  I wanted for our situation to be an exception rather than the rule.  What I wanted was something no one could give mom – a chance to break through the connection that is hopelessly lost and for even a few minutes, to have our mother back.

I have to say the great-grandchildren enjoyed their great-grandmother though mentally and emotionally, she acted their age instead of hers.  She pouted, fussed, worried, and didn’t sleep a wink until our trek home.  Oh, and “home”?  That is a strange word to her because she has no idea exactly where “home” is.  Home is where there is some routine, where things are familiar and there is little to process.  The verdict is – no more road trips – we are staying home.

 

It feels good

Some mornings, you would think mom is preparing for a marathon.  She walks at a very brisk pace that is practically a jog for someone her age.  Her morning walk is something she does not forget and very much looks forward to every day.

She used to walk leisurely on many days, but when her caregiver left and it was just her and me, I started her walking at a good pace.  I was proud that she could walk a mile in 30 minutes – we actually started out only walking half a mile.  Soon, she could do a full mile!

Now, after six weeks of this daily regimen, she walks at an average speed of 3 mph and this morning broke her own record going 1.95 miles in 35 minutes.  There is a part of me that wants her to slow down, but in my own exercise regimen, the “feel good” factor is easy to be addicted to.  So, why should it be different for her?

Could there be a correlation between some of her “improvement” and the qualitative and quantitative increase in her daily physical activity?  Maybe.  No, she still does not remember what she ate for breakfast or how to cook an egg, but she holds her head up high and lives vicariously through our lives.  She told me the other day how she enjoys being a babysitter although she has never changed a diaper or fed our little guy.  It’s okay – as long as she want to be a part, she can.

If I had sat down and printed out the research on dementia and were to try something, I would have chosen to increase mom’s activity level.  Good thing that is the way it turned out.  According to exercise sites and medical sites, regular exercise helps with:

  • reducing stress
  • improving sleep
  • decreasing feelings of depression and anxiety

It is no wonder then that mom shows up with her walking shoes on shortly after breakfast ready to hit the road.

Here is a link to an interesting article regarding a possible link between exercise as a therapeutic option:  https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3258000/

 

What happened?

Yesterday, Frank and I walked in from a quick run and found mom sitting at the breakfast table.  At first glance, all looked normal with her open word search book, familiar pen and straight edge  – she is a little OCD with her straight lines when she finds a word.  She closed her book and excitedly told us that one of my sisters had called and told her that she’d be picked up in two days.  I let her chatter about how Sue had called and that she needed to pack.  She actually asked for her luggage!

She looked at me dumbfounded after I told her that we were going on vacation and no one would be home in two days.  She brightened up after I told her where we were going and quipped, “That is driving distance from California!  Sue can just pick me up and maybe we can drop by!”  Folks, we are talking about the difference between the east coast and the west coast so there is no “dropping by”.

I practiced being gentle and trying to lead her to a better place, but she has a very focused stubborn streak and would not let it go.  She insisted for a couple of hours going so far as telling Sue on the phone that we never took her anywhere or did anything. So I prayed for her – for calm, comfort, and  a return to some sort of normalcy – I just told God I had no idea what to say so could He please help?  I thought this was humorous in light of what I posted just that morning.

This morning, I tested the waters and she is okay.

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Beautiful morning for a walk!

We went on our normal walk and the picture I took told me volumes.  At this moment, my shadow is bigger and taller than hers.  Her form is bent and mine for the time being is straight.  She needs me to protect her even if it is from herself.  There was a time in the not so distance past where the roles were reversed, but it is my turn to provide refuge and her safe place.

Psalm 91:1  He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.

 

Let’s pray

At 1p.m. Eastern Standard Time which is 10a.m. Pacific Standard Time, an alarm goes off on several devices.  For me, it is my phone.  Our family has committed to praying for one another at this specific time during the week.  We pray at other times, but this time is reserved just for our family.  We are sometimes pleasantly surprised by circumstances and a couple of us can actually call so we can pray together.

As I study more about mom’s condition – it would seem that all of a sudden I am in the company of many others in the same situation – and I am asked to pray for these folks.  Here is my conundrum.  The Bible says much about prayer:

  • James 5:16  Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.
  • Colossians 4:12 Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving.
  • Philippians 4:6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

But, what am I supposed to ask for, especially as it pertains to mom?  Healing? Comfort?  Restoration?  At this moment, we have older friends who we know are in their last days and of course, we are praying for them.  A couple of them are already over 90!  Realistically, the aging process can’t be reversed, nor can the effects of some chronic illnesses or injuries.

Here is what I have found.  I tell God all.  He wants to hear what is in my heart about those for whom I pray not my finely crafted, eloquent masterpieces of oration that would please an English teacher.  One of my favorite episodes of “Elmo’s World” (I have a grandson who loves Elmo) is a Christmas one where Elmo can’t figure out what to get his goldfish, Dorothy for a gift.  So he goes to visit Santa who thinks Elmo came to sit on his lap and share his Christmas wish list.  Imagine Santa’s surprise when all Elmo wanted was Santa’s suggestion on what Elmo should give Dorothy!

The practice of prayer in my life especially now is simply to practice the presence of God (A book of the teachings of Brother Lawrence, a 17th century Carmelite monk is aptly called, “The Practice of the Presence of God” – great read!).  Prayer is living the moments in each day with God – being aware of His presence as a friend and companion but with power and awe as the Almighty.

 

Grinders cease

Solomon is touted as one of the wisest men who ever lived.  His discourse in Ecclesiastes 12 however, is not one of my favorite chapters.  When I was in my 30’s and 40’s – it was easy to dismiss the words of wisdom as something to do later.  The advice he gave to “remember also your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come and the years draw near of which you will say, ‘I have no pleasure in them.'”  Then came the litany of vivid word pictures that describe what happens to an aging individual.  Here is a short list of some of how Solomon described the effects of aging:

  • keepers of the house tremble
  • strong men are bent
  • grinders cease because they are few
  • those who look through the windows are dimmed
  • afraid of what is high
  • afraid of terrors in the way
  • desire fails

This would not make a good print ad!  I’m not sure that retirement communities would necessarily point out that your neighbors, especially the older ones, will be in the midst of one or more of these or all of these.

Enter mom.  I watched her all weekend.  What I saw was all of what Solomon described.  Sure, she had her spurts of energy and spots where she was the “mom” again (or at least she attempted it), but generally Solomon was right on target.  Well, of course he was as God gave him the wisdom to pen Ecclesiastes.

I enjoy cooking (and eating) and work hard to provide nutritious, tasty meals for us to enjoy.  Well this weekend, I watched as no matter what was served or where – home or restaurant – mom would close her eyes and chew as if it was a monumental, laborious task.  In this culinary centered society of ours, it is hard to imagine when eating becomes a chore to be endured.  Because of the dementia, mom does not get hungry or thirsty.  We have to make sure she eats and drinks.  Mom can fall asleep sitting anywhere, but she is never tired so we have to make sure she rests.

In the 12th chapter of Ecclesiastes, Solomon says, “The words of the wise are like goads” (vs 11).  Some of us are a little more stubborn than others and reject the pure wisdom right in front of our faces.  I pray for a little less stubbornness for me and for mom.  Gotta run – she is in the kitchen playing in the water again.

Funny Friday

If I can, I want to make my posts on Fridays lighthearted.  She may not intend to and certainly has no idea, but mom can be quirky and make me laugh.  The best times are when she is like this and she laughs at herself.

This week, I have been trying to finish off some garden projects so when Frank comes home, we’ve hopped in the car to dash off to the nearest home improvement/DIY place to get supplies.  One afternoon, I told mom to get ready to come with us.  She jumped out of her seat and hurried to the kitchen.  I turned and asked her where she was going and she said, “Upstairs!”.  She realized where she was and laughed at herself!  See what getting her excited can do?

This weeks favorite anecdote was during one of our daily walks.

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Mom putting on the shoes she won’t give back to me.  She says she loves them and they’re the best!

Mom’s social skills are waning so when we see folks from the neighborhood walking, I gently reminder her to smile, wave or say hello.  She spotted a familiar pair of older ladies walking towards us, looked at me with her graying eyes and said, “Jog!” and started jogging!  The ladies passed us and we exchanged a pleasantry while mom tried to look like Harriette Thompson (the oldest woman ever to run and finish a marathon).  The minute she was satisfied that the ladies were past us, mom stopped and said, “Enough!”  Her vanity will pop like a heated popcorn kernel and not only surprise us but make us smile for miles.

 

By the way, she walked two full miles today.  Well done, mama!

Oh mom!

There was a piece of me that resided in guilt.  No matter how I tried to justify myself, I came away with the same burdensome weight.  I think I understand this so I’ll try and explain.  Mom was diagnosed with dementia about three years ago.  It was not a good time – it never is.  She’d call me in tears telling me all that my sister and brother-in-law were accusing her of.  Then I’d get a phone call about mom getting lost by driving south instead of north or putting metal in the microwave, or leaving the stove on for hours.

Mom sure could talk up a believable story back then.  Her coping mechanisms are still pretty sharp until she starts waxing eloquent about life “back then” and all her past gets scrunched up.  So, I believed her (notice this is past tense).  I believed her because I never saw what my sister saw.  I never really did my research.  I never took the time so spend enough time with her to see the deterioration that was slowly taking our mother away.

Could we have done something to at least slow this down?  My sister deserves all the credit for how well mom is doing presently.  She invested so much time and effort to make mom comfortable, but we still have to live so we all had to work.  My portion came through a guilt trip and now that I see mom 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, I wonder what would have happened if we instituted some of what we are doing now earlier.

This condition is disarming.  Mom is disarming.  You can ask her how she likes her food and she will say delicious every time.  You ask her how she is doing and she is fine all the time.  She can look up from her plate and say that she will change her diet to include some of the things we are eating.  Her favorite thing to ask for is the recipe.  Folks, she has not cooked in years nor can she plan a meal or understand when mealtime is.

So, the guilt was like a trailer being pulled by a locomotive.  The train lead us down familiar tracks, but more often than not, we were on new ground almost daily.  I’d chase after the train scrambling to look up what the new ground meant.  How come she couldn’t tell some colors apart?  How come she couldn’t smell (this is bad when something is burning!)?  How come she was never hungry, tired or sleepy?  How come she could snap back with a retort and mumble about all the injustice I am dishing out but she couldn’t sort out whether it was morning or evening.

One day, I had to tell her that we could not use her debit card for a couple of days.  She obsessed about that until she simply cut it up.  Just yesterday, she was studying her arm and laughed.  “Look!”, she told me after I asked her what was funny.  “I can see my vein when my arm is down and it goes away when my arm is up!”  Oh mom!

She’ll probably get to heaven before I do and I know the first thing she will tell me after she exclaims, “Thank God you made it!” will be why, how, and when.  Why her.  How did it happen and how the condition worked.  And finally, when – when God showed her what happened during her time with dementia, could she see how much we loved her, cared for her, and missed her?  She’ll say yes, especially after you let go of the guilt.

The lasagna story

One day last week, we visited a friend in a rehabilitation facility.  I have seen mom’s reaction around older folks especially if they are in wheelchairs or using walkers so I knew this would be a difficult visit for her.  Mom is getting skittish about being home by herself so I tried to prep her for the visit since she would have to tag along.

I told her that we had a dear friend who broke a couple of bones and was recuperating and getting physical therapy.   Her reaction to my prep work was priceless.  She quipped, “If there is a job opening, I would like to work in a care home!  I feel for those who can’t help themselves!”  Well, my heart smiled as I told her she was wonderful for thinking this.

Her bravado faded as we walked through the hallways past rooms with folks shuffling around, some moaning in their beds, and many simply sitting in wheelchairs wearing bibs, nodding off in front of the television.  She clutched her purse tightly to her chest and stayed close.  She was wide-eyed during the whole visit and tensed up during the walk out.  The whole time – there was a palpable fear in her posture and in her eyes.

Then yesterday she got a phone call from one of my aunts.  Bad news.  A cousin’s mother is in critical condition and is in hospice.  Mom got off the phone and told me the news, but added, “she is old anyway – when it’s your time, it’s your time.”  By the time she got downstairs and sat down for lunch not 10 minutes later, she had forgotten all about the call.  I think she sometimes chooses to force unhappy thoughts out or pushes them over the edge into the abyss where all her information has disappeared into.

Now for the lasagna.  Sunday afternoon, I had put two pans of lasagna into the oven.  It was our turn to feed the teenagers at church and all we had time for was frozen lasagna.  All was well until I tried to transfer one of the pans into the carry container.  The whole thing slipped and the hot mess splattered all over my kitchen floor and onto my legs!  I shouted out in pain (hot cheese and sauce burns!) and quickly tried to see if any of the lasagna remained in the pan.  Nope.  It was all over the floor.  Mom and Frank came running!  Mom was holding the bag with other supplies and got flustered.  I didn’t mean to get short with her, but I was afraid she’d slip on the sauce so I told her that I’d deal with it.  She hid.  She put herself in the laundry room and stayed there until we called to her.  She got scared!   We tried to reassure her that all was okay and that it was taken care of but for much of the afternoon, her eyes were big as saucers.  There it was again – fear.

Her fears are something new for me.  Her stubborn streak and tantrums are fairly simple to deal with but fear?  Fear of being left.  Fear of what being old brings.  Fear because she can’t cope.  Fear because she can’t process information fast enough.  Fear of the new and unfamiliar.  Fear that we may be so angry with her or each other that a conflict arises.  Fear that becomes a monster because though they are the same as our fears, she has no idea how to wrestle with it or how to rationalize it away and worst of all, to tell us she is scared.

So, we pray for her and keep our household calm – as calm as possible, but stuff comes up – or in the case of the lasagna, it falls apart on the floor.  Gotta run and rescue my coffee mug – mom is on the hunt for something to wash!