Mom in the Mirror

As mom continues her decline in her mental and physical abilities, I find the changes less and less surprising and we actually get into this routine, if you will, of not knowing what to expect.  While at first, I was more shocked at every turn, trying to bring her back or trying to teach her how to cope, I find myself more accepting of the changes.  I'm realizing that you can't teach at this stage. She can say, "thank you, for helping me" and  "I'll do that," but she does not retain the memory.  What I do find surprising is that she remembers how we keep telling her that pictures are paper.  But it does not change how she thinks about them. She'll say, "I'm tired of hearing that," and keep treating them as visitors.

There are times I just have to give myself the freedom to laugh. Last week, after spending half a day with her, convincing her to get dressed, doing laundry, cleaning her fridge and secretly taking care of or disposing of food she had gathered under the couch, I started imagining a film crew following us around and I laughed until I cried. 

She called me into the bathroom where she was supposedly getting dressed, pointing at the mirror, she said to me, "I can't tell who it is, if it's your daughter or your granddaughter, but she is always greeting me when I come in here, and smiles at me." I patiently told her it's a mirror and that she was looking at herself.  (I digress ... I am still trying to teach her.) She ignored what I said and went on to tell me in animated fashion that they always wear the same thing and that they then laugh at each other. 

One of her physical weaknesses is that she is getting unsteady on her feet and easily loses her balance. A few weeks ago we asked them to come join our family for a picnic at the park across the street from where they live.  With some help, they made it to the picnic site. When we got there with the food, she was on the blanket face to face with Jack. At 82, other healthy women would say they cannot get down on a blanket but mom does not realize this, and she was down on all fours, trying to get low enough to talk to him. It ended up being a highlight of their week, seeing the children and eating chicken and Rollkuchen.

While it sometimes is easy to focus on the handicaps, things we can't comprehend and hard decisions to be made, it is our simple spontaneous drop in visits and plans to include them that still bring delight to both mom and Abe. They are the things that keep relationships as open as possible and are helping me learn to walk a care giving role that I never would have seen myself as being able to do. 

For now I see a bitter sweet lesson in how the deception in the mirror smiles at her and gives her joy, because she chooses to smile.