As I enter mother's kitchen, I cannot see a look on her face that warns me of calamity, until I walk over to her tablet which is used by me and other family members for the sole purpose of writing down information and instructions for her day. I can see that mother has marked out what I had written the day before, which was for Sunday. That in itself was different, as she usually leaves it alone until I come the next morning to write down the new day's information.
As I reach to turn the page on the tablet, I ask her why she had marked through yesterday's information. She replied that she was fed up with me trying to tell her what to do as if she was a child, like she wasn't old enough to know what day it was. Honestly, I could understand her line of thinking and tried to explain to her that it was just a means to help her remember what she would be doing that day since I wouldn't be there to tell her. I often wondered as I was writing each day, how I would feel if someone had to do this for me. Telling me exactly what to eat, where it was, and what I would be doing and where I would be going that day and just who might be coming to my house. One of mother's many favorite comments to me is "I don't know what in the world I did before I had you to tell me what to do!"
With displeasure of me and my writing tablet aside, she says to me, "Come sit down and I'll tell you why I knew it wasn't Sunday today." I did as she asked and sat down at the kitchen table with her. "This morning when I woke up" she told, "I heard Annie barking, and all of a sudden, I could hear a group of men making noise, who apparently were on their way to work and had took a shortcut down by my house. They were right outside my bedroom window. I don't believe they were looking in, just passing through." She continued on to say that "when I came in here and saw that tablet reading that 'Today is Sunday.' I knew it had to be "Monday," because those men were headed to work and most people don't work on Sunday."
There have been other times when mother has thought that people were outside her bedroom window. We have heard stories of someone kicking the basement door or banging on the door with something in their hand, in an attempt to enter. She also has seen pick up trucks, men and women standing outside in a group, smoking and talking as if they had met there for a gathering or something.
This morning wasn't the worse morning mother has had...it was just a "Monday" morning.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Mother's Folly and My Dolly!
Today is a Saturday, and as usual, I am in a hurry when arriving at mothers. First of all, I know that my sister Sue will be coming today and I will be relieved of most of the daily duties that I usually do for mother. It's somewhat later than most mornings due to the fact that I don't have to work today and I have slept in.
The first thing I notice is that Annie, mother's dog, is not outside. If you've been reading my posts, you'll remember that mother puts Annie, or some creature which Annie happens to be masquerading as, in every night so she doesn't have to hear her barking and wonder what or who she's barking at as well as taking the chance of waking up the "old woman" that mother declares lives just up on the bank and is a dog thief."
I began to knock on the side door and see through the window that all the lights are off and the kitchen is quiet and still. I began to call, "M-o-t-h-e-r!" Finally, she hollers, "who is it?" I say, "It's me, Jean!" "C-o-m-i-n-g" she calls back. Opening the door, Annie is at her side. The first thing she says to me is "Well, what in the world are you doing down here this time of the night?" I said "Mother, it's not night time, its morning!" Turning the light on, she squints her eyes to see the time on the microwave, seeing that it's 7:40. She turns and says, "see there, it's something to eight, I think you're the one that's confused!" I try changing the subject by telling her that her daughter Sue, and husband Bill will be coming today and she had better take her pills and get herself organized. Nothing doing! Mother keeps asking me, "why are they coming at night?" I tell her over and over again that it's Saturday morning. She eventually succumbs to the notion of it being morning and tells me that "if I'm lying to her that she's going to take the biggest hickory she can find and give me a whipping!"
I can remember another time as a child when I heard these same words. It was summertime and when you're 10 years old, you think that you can get away with most anything. My sister Sue and I had begged and begged mother and daddy for a pony. After many months of good behavior and agonizing pleads, they finally agreed to buy us one. Her name was "Dolly." Dolly was Palameno colored. We never had a saddle, so all of our riding days were "bareback."
It was unusually hot and my sister and I were craving some candy and soda. Being that we lived pretty far out in the country, there were no stores around. Well, mother worked at a small sock mill, just about 2 miles down the road and located just near the closest store to our house. I had heard her tell my daddy many times how cramped up she felt after being inside all day working so I knew that there was no way she could find out if I decided to go through with this adventure. Mother had warned us many times of the consequences if we ventured out on our "Dolly" while she was at work, let alone ride her 2 miles!
With a candy bar and a Nehi drink on my mind, off Dolly and I went. Unfortunately and unknowing to me, a co-worker of mothers had driven down to this same little store to get a snack for lunch and had seen a little girl and a pony tied outside the store that looked much like "Margie's girl, Jean." When arriving back home, I was greeted with a message saying that mother had called from work asking if I had ridden my pony down to the store. She had given instructions that when she got home, "I was going to get a whipping with the biggest hickory she could find!"
As I leave mother's house, I keep telling her that it is indeed morning time. I remind her that I am a grown-up woman now, and that I wouldn't lie to her about the time of day!
I received many whippings from mother as a child, but I assure you, I deserved every one of them!
Friday, August 27, 2010
The Old Man and His Daughter
Mother was always faithful when it came to Church attendance. You could always find her at Sunday School and preaching services on any given Sunday. I've mentioned before that she was a Sunday School Teacher, Deacon's wife and choir member most of her adult life.
We had some newcomers to come join at our church one Sunday and for some reason mother took a liken to them and they to her. The woman, Joan, was somewhere in the age range of her forties while her husband Kenneth, was some eight years older. This couple sat directly in front of mother most Sundays. They started talking and began a close friendship.
Several years ago, mother had some major surgery done. At this time, dementia had not yet reared it's ugly head. This statement alone would cause some discussion in our family. As we entered the waiting area in the hospital, there sat the Jolley's, Kenneth and Joan. Always there to comfort, visit or call,they were a permanent presence in mother's life from then on out. Kenneth enjoyed turkey hunting when the season came around and mother's farm was well furnished with these "Thanksgiving birds." Mother gave Kenneth permission to hunt on her property, which was a compliment in itself, as mother has a very strong attachment to all of her animal friends. Her exact orders were, "You can only kill one!"
Time went on and mother's dementia took over most of her life so she had to stop attending church. This did not deter Kenneth. He would call and check on mother every week and to this day, still does.
One day, Kenneth was off from work, so he and Joan decided they would come for a visit. Later that evening, I called to check on mother and asked if anyone had come to visit. She replied, "Yes, an old man and his daughter that live down near the edge of the pasture." I said, "mother, there's not anybody like that living near you." We argued back and forth for awhile, so I asked her to describe them. She told me that he was just an "old man," and his daughter was with him but she didn't think she was married. She said she didn't know their names and she sure didn't think much of that old man coming to see her and bringing his daughter. While quizzing her, she gave up one piece of information that sounded familiar. Kenneth, has always teased me about being older than him. Whether that's the truth, I don't know. But, mother told me that the "old man" said to be sure and tell his "big sister" hey. Well, this is what Kenneth had always referred to me as, so now I knew who the mystery visitors were. It didn't take me long to dial up the Jolleys and inform Kenneth that mother thought he was an old man who had come to court her and had brought his unmarried daughter along.
Another instance concerning an "old man and his daughter happened about a year ago. It was a very cold night and mother was trying to get her dog Annie into the house for the night. As she opened the back door and began calling Annie, a little girl stuck her head around the corner of the house and said "just what dog are you looking for?" Mother told us that the little girl's daddy was an old man and stood up on the bank watching. She was upset because she said "it was none of their business which dog she was looking for." She couldn't get over the fact that neighbors would come down there in the middle of the night and it as cold as it was, nosing in her business!
It's very interesting to me, the characters that mother comes up with in her hallucinations. I have to say though, out of all of them, the "old man and his daughter" have tickled me the most as now I can be the one to tease Kenneth about who's the oldest! I truly thank God for people like the Jolley's who have remained close and faithful friends to mother in spite of it all!
We had some newcomers to come join at our church one Sunday and for some reason mother took a liken to them and they to her. The woman, Joan, was somewhere in the age range of her forties while her husband Kenneth, was some eight years older. This couple sat directly in front of mother most Sundays. They started talking and began a close friendship.
Several years ago, mother had some major surgery done. At this time, dementia had not yet reared it's ugly head. This statement alone would cause some discussion in our family. As we entered the waiting area in the hospital, there sat the Jolley's, Kenneth and Joan. Always there to comfort, visit or call,they were a permanent presence in mother's life from then on out. Kenneth enjoyed turkey hunting when the season came around and mother's farm was well furnished with these "Thanksgiving birds." Mother gave Kenneth permission to hunt on her property, which was a compliment in itself, as mother has a very strong attachment to all of her animal friends. Her exact orders were, "You can only kill one!"
Time went on and mother's dementia took over most of her life so she had to stop attending church. This did not deter Kenneth. He would call and check on mother every week and to this day, still does.
One day, Kenneth was off from work, so he and Joan decided they would come for a visit. Later that evening, I called to check on mother and asked if anyone had come to visit. She replied, "Yes, an old man and his daughter that live down near the edge of the pasture." I said, "mother, there's not anybody like that living near you." We argued back and forth for awhile, so I asked her to describe them. She told me that he was just an "old man," and his daughter was with him but she didn't think she was married. She said she didn't know their names and she sure didn't think much of that old man coming to see her and bringing his daughter. While quizzing her, she gave up one piece of information that sounded familiar. Kenneth, has always teased me about being older than him. Whether that's the truth, I don't know. But, mother told me that the "old man" said to be sure and tell his "big sister" hey. Well, this is what Kenneth had always referred to me as, so now I knew who the mystery visitors were. It didn't take me long to dial up the Jolleys and inform Kenneth that mother thought he was an old man who had come to court her and had brought his unmarried daughter along.
Another instance concerning an "old man and his daughter happened about a year ago. It was a very cold night and mother was trying to get her dog Annie into the house for the night. As she opened the back door and began calling Annie, a little girl stuck her head around the corner of the house and said "just what dog are you looking for?" Mother told us that the little girl's daddy was an old man and stood up on the bank watching. She was upset because she said "it was none of their business which dog she was looking for." She couldn't get over the fact that neighbors would come down there in the middle of the night and it as cold as it was, nosing in her business!
It's very interesting to me, the characters that mother comes up with in her hallucinations. I have to say though, out of all of them, the "old man and his daughter" have tickled me the most as now I can be the one to tease Kenneth about who's the oldest! I truly thank God for people like the Jolley's who have remained close and faithful friends to mother in spite of it all!
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Dog Thief!
As I knocked on mother's door, I could see that the kitchen light was off, coffee unmade and the kitchen chair standing propped against the doorknob. Annie was outside running around as usual, but not a peep from mother. Calling, and knocking, I could hear no reply. Just as I decided to head around to the front door to ring the doorbell, I heard a faint, "coming," from somewhere inside.
Last September, I recall the morning I came down to give mother her pills and something very similar with a different ending happened. I had knocked and knocked, called and called, but never an answer. I had made my way around to ring the doorbell but still no answer. I knew very well where the key to the front door was, but I could not bring myself to enter, fearing just what I might find. I hurried back to the car, got my cell phone and called mother's nephew Kenneth who lives just up the road to come assist me. When he arrived, he entered in and called to mother, still, no answer. I was helpless as I stood on the front porch and prayed. At last I could hear Kenneth talking to "Aunt Margie." I made my way back to her bedroom and found a near unresponsive mother lying on the bed, still in her nightgown. The EMS was summoned and she was taken to the hospital. It was found that she had a really bad urinary tract infection which landed her in the hospital for several days.
Today, I wait for her to open the door. I can see her hair and clothes are very unruly and think that she is going to have an interesting story to tell. "What were you doing?" I asked. "That 'old woman' was after my dogs again last night and I had to stay up most of the night making sure she didn't steal my last one." "She was turning her light on and off, telling me that she was up there and waiting to get my dogs." Trying to reassure her that she only has "one" dog and there was no "old woman" living near her, she became agitated to the point that I knew I just needed to listen and go along with her.
For some months now, mother thinks that there is an old woman who lives just up in the woods near her house who has been stealing her dogs, until she is just down to one. Mother says she has cages all around her house and her prized one is up there now, which as she tells it, has red and green on the back of it's neck. I like to refer to this one as the "Christmas dog." The whole family has sat tirelessly as mother tells of this old woman taking her dogs. She has asked time after time if she should call the police on her and I just reply that if she did the old woman might retaliate and poison one of her "imaginary" dogs or God forbid, cows! This seems to satisfy her and so far, she has not made a call to our local law enforcement concerning this "dog thief."
Mother spies her dog Annie frolicking on the back deck and says, "That Annie is having one more time out there!" No more than she has said this, she is asking me "whose dog is that?" I tell her it's Annie and she says "does she have mud on her?" I take a look out the kitchen window to see if Annie has possibly been rolling in the mud, but as I thought, she was as clean as a whistle, sitting there digging a flea. I said mother, Annie is brown and black and you can just see mostly brown since she's scratching. Still, mother will not believe that this is her dog Annie.
Knowing that eventually mother will forget all about last night's folly, and soon come to realize that the dog hanging around her house is indeed Annie, I head on off to work. I think to myself about how comfortable I am becoming with mother's actions. This realization in itself is very unsettling to me.
Last September, I recall the morning I came down to give mother her pills and something very similar with a different ending happened. I had knocked and knocked, called and called, but never an answer. I had made my way around to ring the doorbell but still no answer. I knew very well where the key to the front door was, but I could not bring myself to enter, fearing just what I might find. I hurried back to the car, got my cell phone and called mother's nephew Kenneth who lives just up the road to come assist me. When he arrived, he entered in and called to mother, still, no answer. I was helpless as I stood on the front porch and prayed. At last I could hear Kenneth talking to "Aunt Margie." I made my way back to her bedroom and found a near unresponsive mother lying on the bed, still in her nightgown. The EMS was summoned and she was taken to the hospital. It was found that she had a really bad urinary tract infection which landed her in the hospital for several days.
Today, I wait for her to open the door. I can see her hair and clothes are very unruly and think that she is going to have an interesting story to tell. "What were you doing?" I asked. "That 'old woman' was after my dogs again last night and I had to stay up most of the night making sure she didn't steal my last one." "She was turning her light on and off, telling me that she was up there and waiting to get my dogs." Trying to reassure her that she only has "one" dog and there was no "old woman" living near her, she became agitated to the point that I knew I just needed to listen and go along with her.
For some months now, mother thinks that there is an old woman who lives just up in the woods near her house who has been stealing her dogs, until she is just down to one. Mother says she has cages all around her house and her prized one is up there now, which as she tells it, has red and green on the back of it's neck. I like to refer to this one as the "Christmas dog." The whole family has sat tirelessly as mother tells of this old woman taking her dogs. She has asked time after time if she should call the police on her and I just reply that if she did the old woman might retaliate and poison one of her "imaginary" dogs or God forbid, cows! This seems to satisfy her and so far, she has not made a call to our local law enforcement concerning this "dog thief."
Mother spies her dog Annie frolicking on the back deck and says, "That Annie is having one more time out there!" No more than she has said this, she is asking me "whose dog is that?" I tell her it's Annie and she says "does she have mud on her?" I take a look out the kitchen window to see if Annie has possibly been rolling in the mud, but as I thought, she was as clean as a whistle, sitting there digging a flea. I said mother, Annie is brown and black and you can just see mostly brown since she's scratching. Still, mother will not believe that this is her dog Annie.
Knowing that eventually mother will forget all about last night's folly, and soon come to realize that the dog hanging around her house is indeed Annie, I head on off to work. I think to myself about how comfortable I am becoming with mother's actions. This realization in itself is very unsettling to me.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Sleepwalker
In a rush to get out the door, I grabbed a baggy and dropped mother's medication in it for the day. Just as I walk passed the telephone, it rings and mother is on the other end. I have to say, this is the first time mother has actually called me this early in the morning. It's usually sometime during the day or late at night.
"What are you doing?" she asks. "Getting ready to come down to your house, why?" I answer. "Well, I want to know who in the world has dropped me off at this house!" she replies angrily. This whole picture is getting clearer and this isn't the first time this event has happened, so I sorta knew where all this was going.
This time, mother had not been to the "Lake House," as in previous posts, but she had been "sleepwalking" and someone had found her on the road, picked her up and brought her back to this house, so she thinks.
Once I had received a phone call from her, asking me "how in the world did she get up to this 'hole' in Saluda?" Another time, she had supposedly been walking on the road and someone came along and took her to a house where a little old lady lived. Mother had been invited in to spend the night with this woman who she had never laid eyes on before, then when morning came, someone had brought her back home. In reality, mother had not been anywhere but asleep.
Another trait of Dementia is a "deceiver." I have tried to discuss this with mother and assure her that she has not actually been "sleepwalking" but "dreaming." As usual, she will not be convinced and only agitated at the thought that I think she's crazy.
Many of mother's dementia events have to do with her or someone being lost. She has always had a heart for helping those who were lost; spiritually or physically.
I recall an occasion when I still lived at home. Mother was busy cooking a meal for a Saturday family gathering when a knock came to our door. It was a lady who was looking for a pretty well to do housing development approximately some 10 miles from where we lived. I was familiar with this elite place, only because my sister and I sold Girl Scout cookies there years before this. Mother had asked the lady all the information she needed to know in order to look the people up in the book, give them a call and have them give her instructions to their house so she could direct this poor lost lady. Even though mother was overwhelmed with the chore of baking, she gladly obliged this lost soul. I could hear mother telling her that she would stay on the phone with the person at the intended destination till she arrived, so she would know that she had made it safely. Mother must have stood there on the phone for ten minutes talking to someone she had never met. I suddenly saw a smile flash over mother's face as she could hear in the background of the phone, the two women greeting each other, reassuring mother that she had given the right instructions. The woman came back to the phone and hung up without one kind word of "thank you" or "what a good neighbor you have been." Not that mother wanted that, but I could see in her eyes, the hurt of being dismissed without a mere word of appreciation.
As I arrive at mother's house, she is waiting for me, standing in front of her garage, anxiously awaiting an explanation for her trip.
Not long ago, she had greeted me in front of the garage carrying her pocketbook. She had been sitting on the front porch since sometime early in the morning, thinking that she had been dropped off at someone else's house, and nothing she could see looked familiar. I had to take her inside and tell her stories of people and things that had happened in her house so that she would believe it was really her home.
This morning, I was able to convince her that she had not sleepwalked anywhere, but that she had been a victim of an overactive dream. She remarked that "she sure was glad that it was a dream, cause she didn't know what she would have fed all those people who were in her house when she got back home."
As I head off to work, I think about the good person that mother used to be.
"What are you doing?" she asks. "Getting ready to come down to your house, why?" I answer. "Well, I want to know who in the world has dropped me off at this house!" she replies angrily. This whole picture is getting clearer and this isn't the first time this event has happened, so I sorta knew where all this was going.
This time, mother had not been to the "Lake House," as in previous posts, but she had been "sleepwalking" and someone had found her on the road, picked her up and brought her back to this house, so she thinks.
Once I had received a phone call from her, asking me "how in the world did she get up to this 'hole' in Saluda?" Another time, she had supposedly been walking on the road and someone came along and took her to a house where a little old lady lived. Mother had been invited in to spend the night with this woman who she had never laid eyes on before, then when morning came, someone had brought her back home. In reality, mother had not been anywhere but asleep.
Another trait of Dementia is a "deceiver." I have tried to discuss this with mother and assure her that she has not actually been "sleepwalking" but "dreaming." As usual, she will not be convinced and only agitated at the thought that I think she's crazy.
Many of mother's dementia events have to do with her or someone being lost. She has always had a heart for helping those who were lost; spiritually or physically.
I recall an occasion when I still lived at home. Mother was busy cooking a meal for a Saturday family gathering when a knock came to our door. It was a lady who was looking for a pretty well to do housing development approximately some 10 miles from where we lived. I was familiar with this elite place, only because my sister and I sold Girl Scout cookies there years before this. Mother had asked the lady all the information she needed to know in order to look the people up in the book, give them a call and have them give her instructions to their house so she could direct this poor lost lady. Even though mother was overwhelmed with the chore of baking, she gladly obliged this lost soul. I could hear mother telling her that she would stay on the phone with the person at the intended destination till she arrived, so she would know that she had made it safely. Mother must have stood there on the phone for ten minutes talking to someone she had never met. I suddenly saw a smile flash over mother's face as she could hear in the background of the phone, the two women greeting each other, reassuring mother that she had given the right instructions. The woman came back to the phone and hung up without one kind word of "thank you" or "what a good neighbor you have been." Not that mother wanted that, but I could see in her eyes, the hurt of being dismissed without a mere word of appreciation.
As I arrive at mother's house, she is waiting for me, standing in front of her garage, anxiously awaiting an explanation for her trip.
Not long ago, she had greeted me in front of the garage carrying her pocketbook. She had been sitting on the front porch since sometime early in the morning, thinking that she had been dropped off at someone else's house, and nothing she could see looked familiar. I had to take her inside and tell her stories of people and things that had happened in her house so that she would believe it was really her home.
This morning, I was able to convince her that she had not sleepwalked anywhere, but that she had been a victim of an overactive dream. She remarked that "she sure was glad that it was a dream, cause she didn't know what she would have fed all those people who were in her house when she got back home."
As I head off to work, I think about the good person that mother used to be.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Strange Bedfellows!
It's about 8:00 pm on a Saturday night. Having done the usual chores which a Saturday can bring, Oh how I had longed for my comfy old recliner for most of the day.
My husband and I had been talking about a movie we wanted to watch for a couple of days now and had decided to put if off until a Saturday night. With the remote in hand, we ordered our movie and began to watch. With approximately 30 minutes remaining, the phone begins to ring. While reaching for the phone, I can see it's mother. We are well aware that anywhere from 8:30 til 9:00 pm is mother's bedtime, so if she's calling at this time, we know there's a problem.
As I answered, there was a quiet little voice on the phone saying, "Jean, I've done something sorta dumb and I don't know what to do about it. I said "what have you done?" In a giddy voice, mother began to tell that she saw something that appeared to be "half human" and she considered it to be safe to let in the house so she let it in. "As I was climbing into bed," she said, "I pulled back the covers and there was something that had hands that looked like paws." Without another word, I told her that we were on our way. With movie on pause, off we went.
As we turned in, it appeared that every light inside and outside the house was on. She opened the garage door and came out with a look on her face as if she had done something she shouldn't have. I said "mother, what in the world did you say was in your bed?" She said "get in here and see for yourself." Well, my husband isn't afraid of anything and seems to enjoy mother's adventures as much as a thrilling amusement ride. As he made his way down the hall, I could hear mother's cautioning words, "be careful Bobby, it might hurt you!" Now, I'm no idiot, even though I knew that mother was hallucinating again, I am still not convinced that there might be scary things hanging out in her house at night, so I chose to stay close by the entrance to the kitchen door. I suddenly heard mother say, "Well, Bobby, where in the world did it go?" This gave me the cue to go in. I immediately started to tell mother that the "half human" creature was actually her dog "Annie." If I had to count on my hands and toes how many times mother has seen Annie as a different entity, I would be using one of your hands as well. I'm not sure what it is about this dog, but in mother's eyes, Annie has become anything from a monster, to a child, to a sheep, to all kinds of different colored dogs of all shapes and sizes, to now, "a half human, with paws."
Mother was still not convinced that this half human beast was not still lurking in her house. She made her way into her bedroom's bathroom, opening all doors including the shower door. Not being able to satisfy her mind, she searched each bedroom and the remainder of her house. Every word I said to her, would fall on deaf ears. She didn't want to hear one word I had to say, "she was fed up with me not believing her," she rambled.
Most mother-in-law's seem to have quirks where their son-in-law's are concerned, but not my mother. She loves my husband Bob, and my sister's husband Bill as if they were hers. I was quickly reminded as to why that is. Trying to convince mother that there really wasn't a "half human" creature in her bed was not getting very far, so I attempted to enlist Bob. I don't know why he won't speak up and just tell her how it is, but for some unknown reason, he just sits there and changes the subject when I say, "isn't that right Bobby?" Well, mother loves this and before you know it, I'm the culprit. Tonight was no different. Mother relished in the fact that she was right and I was wrong, partly because my husband wasn't saying anything contrary. I could see that this conversation was going nowhere and I was tired and had a need to finish my movie which awaited us back home. Mother seemed pretty well satisfied now that this half human "thing" had gone from her house, so we left and made her promise to get in bed.
The next morning as I made my way down to mothers, I couldn't help but wonder if she would remember anything from last night. Entering the house and going about my usual morning chores, I knew that all was forgotten, pretty well assured that mother's closets and beds, would hold many more strangers before it was all said and done!
My husband and I had been talking about a movie we wanted to watch for a couple of days now and had decided to put if off until a Saturday night. With the remote in hand, we ordered our movie and began to watch. With approximately 30 minutes remaining, the phone begins to ring. While reaching for the phone, I can see it's mother. We are well aware that anywhere from 8:30 til 9:00 pm is mother's bedtime, so if she's calling at this time, we know there's a problem.
As I answered, there was a quiet little voice on the phone saying, "Jean, I've done something sorta dumb and I don't know what to do about it. I said "what have you done?" In a giddy voice, mother began to tell that she saw something that appeared to be "half human" and she considered it to be safe to let in the house so she let it in. "As I was climbing into bed," she said, "I pulled back the covers and there was something that had hands that looked like paws." Without another word, I told her that we were on our way. With movie on pause, off we went.
As we turned in, it appeared that every light inside and outside the house was on. She opened the garage door and came out with a look on her face as if she had done something she shouldn't have. I said "mother, what in the world did you say was in your bed?" She said "get in here and see for yourself." Well, my husband isn't afraid of anything and seems to enjoy mother's adventures as much as a thrilling amusement ride. As he made his way down the hall, I could hear mother's cautioning words, "be careful Bobby, it might hurt you!" Now, I'm no idiot, even though I knew that mother was hallucinating again, I am still not convinced that there might be scary things hanging out in her house at night, so I chose to stay close by the entrance to the kitchen door. I suddenly heard mother say, "Well, Bobby, where in the world did it go?" This gave me the cue to go in. I immediately started to tell mother that the "half human" creature was actually her dog "Annie." If I had to count on my hands and toes how many times mother has seen Annie as a different entity, I would be using one of your hands as well. I'm not sure what it is about this dog, but in mother's eyes, Annie has become anything from a monster, to a child, to a sheep, to all kinds of different colored dogs of all shapes and sizes, to now, "a half human, with paws."
Mother was still not convinced that this half human beast was not still lurking in her house. She made her way into her bedroom's bathroom, opening all doors including the shower door. Not being able to satisfy her mind, she searched each bedroom and the remainder of her house. Every word I said to her, would fall on deaf ears. She didn't want to hear one word I had to say, "she was fed up with me not believing her," she rambled.
Most mother-in-law's seem to have quirks where their son-in-law's are concerned, but not my mother. She loves my husband Bob, and my sister's husband Bill as if they were hers. I was quickly reminded as to why that is. Trying to convince mother that there really wasn't a "half human" creature in her bed was not getting very far, so I attempted to enlist Bob. I don't know why he won't speak up and just tell her how it is, but for some unknown reason, he just sits there and changes the subject when I say, "isn't that right Bobby?" Well, mother loves this and before you know it, I'm the culprit. Tonight was no different. Mother relished in the fact that she was right and I was wrong, partly because my husband wasn't saying anything contrary. I could see that this conversation was going nowhere and I was tired and had a need to finish my movie which awaited us back home. Mother seemed pretty well satisfied now that this half human "thing" had gone from her house, so we left and made her promise to get in bed.
The next morning as I made my way down to mothers, I couldn't help but wonder if she would remember anything from last night. Entering the house and going about my usual morning chores, I knew that all was forgotten, pretty well assured that mother's closets and beds, would hold many more strangers before it was all said and done!
Saturday, August 14, 2010
The Letter
Yesterday evening was grass cutting time at mother's. It was my husband's time to mow, so we drove on down and began our duties. As he began mowing, the lawnmower had a weird feel to it. Eventually, the troublemaker showed it's ugly head, the steering drag link broke. With a faithful attempt to finish by rigging the link every few seconds, mother and I sat on the porch wondering when the next fix would be the last.
Mother can get pretty worrisome when something around her place tears up. As I sat there listening to her fears of how would we go about getting the mower repaired and who would we get to do the honors, I became a little rattled. If you've ever listened to a person with dementia talk, you can soon lose your thought process and quickly become unnerved. I tried my best to assure mother that my husband would order the part and fix the mower himself. This seemed to comfort her and we left.
This evening, we returned. With new part in hand, and a readiness to repair the mower, my husband began his work. Mother greeted us and had forgotten all about the mower breaking, not to mention that we had even been there cutting grass the evening prior.
She and I agreed that it was just too hot for porch sitting, so we meandered to the living room for a quick chat. Mother began talking about the people who worked on her daddy's farm when she was a little girl on Skyuka road in Columbus, North Carolina and how hot it was in some of those summer days while they worked the field. She recalled a couple who lived in a cottage called the "Carruth Cabin," which her daddy kept for his fieldworkers somewhere behind her home place. Their names were Hugh and Leler (Lela) Davis. Back in those days, most of the time, the people would pronounce someone's name which ended in an "a" with an "er." I refer to this as "country vernacular."
Mother's stepmother's name was "Normer" (Norma) and tonight she wanted to talk about her. Mother's daddy married his second bride, "Normer" when mother was around five years old. "Normer" was really the only mother she ever knew. When she was about ten years old, she and her family traveled to Lake Toxaway to visit "Normer's" kin folk. As soon as they arrived, mother spied a handsome young boy around 3 years her senior. "He was the cutest thing she had ever laid eyes on, and his name was Willy Aiken" she told. Ever so often, Willy's family would either come to visit them on Skyuka road or they would travel up there. Either way, mother remained sweethearts with Willy throughout the years. When Willy became old enough to enlist, he did just that. Mother said goodbye to her first love and vowed to wait for him.
It wasn't long until her affections were aimed at another young man, my father, Bryson Gibson. Mother had not forgotten her first love Willy, but was lonely and as a maturing young woman, thought that time was passing her by. So when she was a ripe old age of one month shy of being eighteen, she agreed to marry my dad. Now my dad was a serviceman as well, but he had already finished his duty and was ready to settle down with a beautiful bride.
The day had arrived when mother and daddy were to be married. Willy had a first cousin named "Allenby" who had been writing letters to him and filling him in on all the heartbreaking news of the pending marriage. On the very day that mother was to wed daddy a letter came in the mail. Mother's stepmom, Normer placed the letter on the mantel and never said a word until mother started to walk out the door on her way to marry. Just like in the movies, as the door slammed shut, Normer remembered the letter and ran out to give it to her. Mother met her half way and tore open the envelope. As she walked to the car, she read the words of a man who was losing his first love to another man. "I hope this letter is not to late, please what ever you do, don't marry Bryson!" the letter read, "wait for me, it won't be long now, 'til we can be together again." Mother's eyes swelled with tears as she placed the letter in her purse, only to tell Bryson that she was a little homesick.
Judge Davenport of Spartanburg, SC, did the honors as Bryson Gibson and Margie Williams were wed on Nov. 28th, 1946.
It just so happens that my daughter-in-law is related someway to Willy's family. I have questioned them before to see if he is living. They had told me of his first wife passing and he remarried but I can't for the life of me remember if he is alive today. Whatever his plight, my mother Margie will always be, his first love.
Mother can get pretty worrisome when something around her place tears up. As I sat there listening to her fears of how would we go about getting the mower repaired and who would we get to do the honors, I became a little rattled. If you've ever listened to a person with dementia talk, you can soon lose your thought process and quickly become unnerved. I tried my best to assure mother that my husband would order the part and fix the mower himself. This seemed to comfort her and we left.
This evening, we returned. With new part in hand, and a readiness to repair the mower, my husband began his work. Mother greeted us and had forgotten all about the mower breaking, not to mention that we had even been there cutting grass the evening prior.
She and I agreed that it was just too hot for porch sitting, so we meandered to the living room for a quick chat. Mother began talking about the people who worked on her daddy's farm when she was a little girl on Skyuka road in Columbus, North Carolina and how hot it was in some of those summer days while they worked the field. She recalled a couple who lived in a cottage called the "Carruth Cabin," which her daddy kept for his fieldworkers somewhere behind her home place. Their names were Hugh and Leler (Lela) Davis. Back in those days, most of the time, the people would pronounce someone's name which ended in an "a" with an "er." I refer to this as "country vernacular."
Mother's stepmother's name was "Normer" (Norma) and tonight she wanted to talk about her. Mother's daddy married his second bride, "Normer" when mother was around five years old. "Normer" was really the only mother she ever knew. When she was about ten years old, she and her family traveled to Lake Toxaway to visit "Normer's" kin folk. As soon as they arrived, mother spied a handsome young boy around 3 years her senior. "He was the cutest thing she had ever laid eyes on, and his name was Willy Aiken" she told. Ever so often, Willy's family would either come to visit them on Skyuka road or they would travel up there. Either way, mother remained sweethearts with Willy throughout the years. When Willy became old enough to enlist, he did just that. Mother said goodbye to her first love and vowed to wait for him.
It wasn't long until her affections were aimed at another young man, my father, Bryson Gibson. Mother had not forgotten her first love Willy, but was lonely and as a maturing young woman, thought that time was passing her by. So when she was a ripe old age of one month shy of being eighteen, she agreed to marry my dad. Now my dad was a serviceman as well, but he had already finished his duty and was ready to settle down with a beautiful bride.
The day had arrived when mother and daddy were to be married. Willy had a first cousin named "Allenby" who had been writing letters to him and filling him in on all the heartbreaking news of the pending marriage. On the very day that mother was to wed daddy a letter came in the mail. Mother's stepmom, Normer placed the letter on the mantel and never said a word until mother started to walk out the door on her way to marry. Just like in the movies, as the door slammed shut, Normer remembered the letter and ran out to give it to her. Mother met her half way and tore open the envelope. As she walked to the car, she read the words of a man who was losing his first love to another man. "I hope this letter is not to late, please what ever you do, don't marry Bryson!" the letter read, "wait for me, it won't be long now, 'til we can be together again." Mother's eyes swelled with tears as she placed the letter in her purse, only to tell Bryson that she was a little homesick.
Judge Davenport of Spartanburg, SC, did the honors as Bryson Gibson and Margie Williams were wed on Nov. 28th, 1946.
It just so happens that my daughter-in-law is related someway to Willy's family. I have questioned them before to see if he is living. They had told me of his first wife passing and he remarried but I can't for the life of me remember if he is alive today. Whatever his plight, my mother Margie will always be, his first love.
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