Mom, I'm so Sorry!

Alzheimer's is a terrible disease that is slowly stealing pieces of my mom's mind. Looking back over the past year, it has manifested itself by blurring her sense of time. It is a confusing concept - she can recite the months from the childhood memory part of her brain but she forgets what month we are in now. For those of us who plan each day, we have no idea how we depend on this awareness of time. Not knowing, creates panic and undue stress for her even in the mundane daily tasks.

At the beginning of this year, feeling some sense of urgency, mom made a trip to the Dollar Store and bought cards in mass amounts, Soon she was overwhelmed with all the cards for her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, strewn about in piles - missing envelopes, partly written -  frustrated at not being able to figure out an order. Monika and I organized a filing box with the designated cards filed behind each month of the year so she could write them when needed. What we learned is that this new concept was not teachable. By the next day all of the cards were out of the box and many were sent out within weeks. So then, when almost everyone received their greetings at the beginning of the year, we thought she was done! However, as the months went by, birthdays came around and she thought they needed a card. We told her not to worry because she had already sent one. Her response was always, "but that was last year!" . . . making this a very long year, mostly because she has had unnecessary stress about writing cards over and over again.

You see, my mom is was  is caring, beautiful, smart, tidy, hard working and organized. But when the fog settles in on her, her living space becomes a whirlwind that tells a hundred other stories.  We don't know this new mom, and walking in on this scene, knowing it's not how she wants things, is hard. How can she create order when it does not happen in her mind?

The second thing and the one most of us think about when we think of Alzheimer's or dementia, is forgetfulness. A normal phone conversation between us can go like this:

me: Hi, Mom! How was your day?
mom: Oh, I'm so tired. I was so busy!
me: Oh, what did you do today?
mom: I don't know. (laughs or sounds sheepish)
me: (I let her think . . . and ask questions to stimulate her thinking, before she resorts to asking, Abe, what they did.)
me: So, did you go out at all? ( I know because I called and she was not home)
mom: Oh yes! Abe took me to Sears to get a jacket for my Birthday! (and we are both so happy when she remembers this special event!! Because the connection happened.

Now I know the card writing is something that will pass and leave only good memories of how she loved us, and we can all forget what we did yesterday, but there are things in everyday life that don't come out quite so sweet. At times I catch sight of her "in another world" unaware of the conversation we're having. She may be focused on a children's book or a photo, seemingly having shut us out. Sometimes we are misunderstood while trying to help her see things, such as her unsafe ideas of food storage. We sense her distrust in our advice which she will act upon in her own way with uncharacteristic stubbornness, and I come away, from what is supposed to be a nice coffee with mom, feeling sad, angry and frustrated. And then guilty.  Maybe it helps to realize it's because I love her and this is not how I want to lose her.

On Saturday we will celebrate her 82nd birthday. Excited to come for dinner, she will depend on Abe to tell her when the day is here.  This year, in spite of the early signs of the dreaded disease, I'm thankful  that we still have so much of her, the most obvious one being her awareness of and love for her family. I thank the Lord for her and for the blessing she has been and always will be to me as I continue to learn from her.