"I Miss You!"

We all have loved ones who come and go in our life, sons and daughters who may be away at college, armed forces, or living in far away states. Knowing that they can't be with us right now, but will once again, grace our presence, is something we all live for and gives us momentarily peace. During the early years of my married life, I lived far away in another state. Back in those days, there was no such instrument as a cell phone. Being I was a "mama's girl" many hours and dollars would be spent a week, calling my mother, sharing news of a new baby's tooth, a step that was taken or just a sad day, longing to be back in North Carolina. Eventually, our family was able to move back home and I would once again, share the day to day life with my mother. So many days were spent on shopping, trips, visits to siblings who lived out of town, family dinners, church life, you name it, we would be together. She was always there for me. Most importantly, she was my confidant, and I hers. She was my mother. When you have a loved one with Alzheimers or Dementia, you find yourself missing that person, even while they're in your presence. I stop into the home today, just to see mother for a minute. Knowing that it's lunch time, I don't want to interfere with her eating, so I tell her that I have an appointment, and just wanted to stop by and say hey. My heart is heavy with many troubles of the day, I have a yearning of saying "Mother, I need to talk to you about something, and you tell me what to do," as I have so many times though the years. Hours and hours on end have been spent, pouring out my heart to this woman who I entrusted with all my inner secrets and shortcomings. I sit down in a chair to the right of her, and as the first bite of food goes into her mouth, I hear her say, "Shoo, I'm not eating that!" The attendant quickly comes over and comments that she'll be right back with one of mother's favorite, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It's not long before she has fulfilled her promise. Mother sits unwrapping her sandwich as a young child would unwrap their presents on Christmas morning. As I watch this scene unfold, I feel an emptiness in my stomach. For all the person that this woman has been to me and others in her life, is this what it all comes down to? A peanut butter and jelly sandwich? I say goodbye, and began my drive back home, tears cloud my vision. Crying out "Mother! I miss you! Come back to me! I need to talk to you! God help me, I want my mother!" I know that many of you have lost loved ones, with never a promise of ever seeing their face again this side of Heaven. I too, lost my dad some twenty years ago. I know loss. Never imagining that anything could compare to death of a loved one, I now know that there are some things worse. Please God... The Serenity Prayer God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time; Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will; That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him Forever in the next. Amen. --Reinhold Niebuhr

"Feelings"

It's two days before the fourth of July and my family is headed out for a beach trip. I want to say a quick goodbye to mother, knowing that I will be away from her for the longest time since her entry into the nursing home. I have purposely chosen a time when she will be finished with her lunch and I can do my usual of curling her hair while we "chat." I hurriedly head up the hall, thinking I will find her sitting next to her new found "husband." For the past several months now, mother has chosen a poor unassuming gentleman who resides at the home, to be her deceased husband "Yates." Not long ago, I came for a visit and there she sat, next to "her Yates." I said, mother come on, let's go up the hall and sit in the front room." She gave me a look that would kill and said "we can't leave Yates here!" Assuring her that he would be alright, I began to push her wheelchair forward. Mother grabbed the nearest thing in sight, the big toe of a lady in her reclining chair. The woman began to holler "OH, OH" until a worker came to the rescue. Today, I glance in mother's room as I pass by. Instead of her bed made, I see someone lying in there. Stopping in my tracks, I turn and go in. There lays mother, breathing very short, hard breaths. I am concerned and see that her roommate is just outside the door. "What is wrong with mother?" I ask. She begins to inform me that mother has been up all night with a stomach virus. I then walk down to the nurse's desk and inquire. The nurse confirms the information. Returning to her bedside, I stroke her forehead and sit at the foot of the bed. Barely able to speak and visibly ridden with discomfort, mother orders me to "go, or you'll catch it too!" Here she is, can hardly remember if I've been there or not 5 minutes after I've left, or anything about anything, but she can still remember to be my mother, with instincts of protecting her child. For months now, as I sit and visit with my mother, I can feel the ties that have always bound us together as mother and daughter, wavering. Struggling to see the mother that I once idolized in this thin shell. Today, I leave the home with a renewed idea that I still have a mother that wants to protect me. If we're honest, no matter how old we get, we will all have that need to be loved and protected by our mother, til we die.

"Rocky"

It's coming up on six months now since mother entered the nursing home. I have cut my visits down from daily, to every other day now, except for Saturdays. It's a Thursday, and I have come for a visit. I open the front door to the home and instantly see the figure of a small, gray haired woman, sitting in her wheelchair, barely recognizable as my mother, staring at me as I walk down the hall. "You look like my Jean!" she says. I laugh a little and say "I do!" She replies back, "And you sound like her too!" Looking at a nurse standing, observing it all at the nurses station, I began to play mother a little bit. "Well, I guess that I might just be your Jean" I say. "Well, how did you get to be my daughter?" she asks. Grinning at the nurse, with a quick wink, I say "I guess you birthed me!" Mother begins to give that all familiar laugh of hers, showing every tooth in her head. Mother's room is located just around the corner which she shares with a lady of similar age, but who has all her faculties in tact. When mother lived at my house, I would give her the three "C's" as needed: Cut, Color and Curl. I was always determined that I would never allow my mom's hair to become gray. I had asked this question of her many times way back when her mind was not as demented as now, "Mom, when you get old and unable to have your hair done, do you still want me to color it?" Her answer would always be, "Well, I guess I do!" This isn't the first promise I've had to break, but one that I'm reminded of every time I see her. Every day upon arriving, I quickly wheel mother to her room, plug her curling iron in and began to curl away, somehow thinking that if I keep her hair curled, the color of it wouldn't be as noticeable. Mother's roommate, fills me in on the happenings in "the home" while I do the honors. It was just a few nights ago, that I had a call from one of the nurses on duty, informing me that mother had become agitated at one of her fellow residents and gave them a punch. I had noticed mother becoming more and more outspoken and aggressive over the past few months. Most of her medication had been stopped in order to keep her awake more. I must say, I was a little set back, at the thought of my beautiful, kind and loving mother, punching somebody. After being assured that everything was under control and that the doctor would be notified of mother's behavior in case medication was needed for her agitation, I felt a little reassured that the poor recipient of mother's bad deed would be alright. Upon telling the incident to some of my family members, we have jokingly named her "Rocky." My husband is a member of the local Rescue Squad, which entitles him to sport around an emergency radio most places he goes. Last night, I was sitting back watching "Wheel of Fortune" when he opened the door and announced that it had come over his radio that the Fire Department had been summoned to "the nursing home" and he wouldn't be surprised if "Rocky" hadn't pulled the alarm. As I continue to curl mother's hair, I purposely mention the fire alarm incident to her roommate, and in turn, is obliged to tell me the details. She states that it was just a test, with someone coming over the loud speaker, telling everyone that things were alright. I look away and breathe a sigh of relief with a slight grin on my face. I guess if you look hard enough, one can find a little humor in anything. A lot of mother's caregivers stop by her room during my visits and I enjoy a tale or two that they share with me about shenanigans that mother has been up to. I don't know about all nursing facilities, but I can really feel a "since of family" at this nursing facilty. I unplug my curling iron, say my goodbyes, and head out. As I'm walking down the hall, I can hear my mother talking and sense that she is following me. I dare not look back, but quickly walk out the door. I have a habit of telling her when I leave, that I need to go and run the church bulletins off at the church before it gets dark. This little fib has saved me many a time from her not wanting me to leave. Even though mother is deep in dementia, somewhere down inside her, she still remembers that I have always typed our church bulletin. Dementia has not yet taken the love of the Lord from her heart, and gives permission for her daughter to go and serve HIM, even if it's just to type a church bulletin.

"Oz"

My days are becoming a little more usual now. The feelings of anxiety that I once experienced when mother first entered the nursing facility, have all but left me. I still have my moments, but for the most part, I have accepted the fact that this is the way it has to be.

I go to work each morning, then on most days, head on up the mountain for a short visit with mother. I will find her having lunch or just finishing up. The workers here seem to be exceptionally nice and caring.

As I make my way up the hall to the dining room, there to my right is the office of a lady who attended mine and mother's church when she was a little girl. Mother was also a co-worker of her mother's back in the 70's. You can imagine how unusual it is to be standing beside a grown up woman now, giving information to me about mother's care and all you can do is see the little freckled face girl, which you once knew.

I round the corner, there I see my old neighborhood friend, who lived just over the way from me, as a child, playing til dark each night until mother would call me in for supper. He has held many titles in his life, but felt that God was leading him here to work as custodian, as well as Chaplain. He is able to be close by mother at any given time. We talk and tease each other as we have done so for years.

Walking into the dining room, I see the food that's prepared by a wonderful Christian lady who visits our church every homecoming Sunday to sing in the choir, play the piano and just fellowship with everybody. She's the dietician.

This picture is becoming very familiar to me as I relate it to one of my favorite childhood movies, "The Wizard of Oz." If you're familiar with the movie, Dorothy was taken far away from her family and loved ones by a tornado (so she thought) to a land called "Oz." The characters that she met on her way; the Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion and the Scarecrow, were actually all her friends back at her home, but playing different roles.

As I leave mother today, I am comforted to know that these previous "co-stars" surround her. We never know who God will place in our lives or the roles He will give them to play; possibly starring with us more than once before it's all said and done.

"A Daughter Again"

The last couple of months around here had been all telling. Mother's right knee began to really bother her back in October. Her orthopedic doctor had told us that the only real relief mother could ever have, would be knee replacement. We knew that this procedure was bad enough for someone who was all about them self, not to mention someone with dementia. However, we still had to address the problem of mother's knee pain and Tylenol was just not enough.

Back in the spring, mother had faced the same dilemma and was offered "Gel shots" to her knee. Even though she experienced some decline at that time in her walking..we felt that it evened out after awhile. To be honest, we were ready to try anything.

Sometime in November, mother began having her three gel shots to the knee once again. I began noticing some swelling and asked the doctor. He assured me that it wasn't coming from the shots. As time went on, mother seemed to become slower and slower in her walk. During this time, she and I also, contracted a stomach virus, which sat her back as well. It seems that I have told this story a hundred times; that mother went from walking, to a cane, to a walker and then a wheelchair, all within ten days. I struggled with trips to the bathroom with her as I would have to lift her from the couch to the wheelchair, causing a tight and uncomfortable back for myself. It wasn't until I came down to get her up one morning and realized that she was not being able to hardly move at all, that I knew something had to be done.

My daughter Blythe, who cared for mother while I worked half a day, came over and assisted me in getting her up and to the bathroom. I made the decision that morning, to carry her to the ER. The rest is history. After many tests, scans, x-rays and the like were ran, mother was found to have a small UTI. The doctor assured us that this was not enough to cause mother's decline. They seemed to think that a deterioration of her dementia was causing the problems. A CT scan showed no unusual activity to the brain, however, an event could have still been possible.

The doctor came in and told me that they were admitting mother to the hospital for the UTI and they would give her antibiotics and see if she could pull out of this slump, but if not, she would not be able to return home with me, as I could no longer care for her by myself. These words were devastating to me, even though I have to admit I didn't know how much longer I would be able to continue on the way things were.

Mother stayed a total of 8 days in the hospital. Efforts to restore her walking were unsuccessful. Swallowing became an issue for her while in the hospital as well, thus, a new diet of pureed foods was prescribed.

The doctor's orders were that she must go to a skilled nursing facility. The one thing that I never, ever wanted to accept, had become a life line for mother and myself.

The hospital assisted in finding mother a room at a nearby facility where she would be able to have rehabilitation and special care that was needed.

It's been almost three weeks now since mother entered the nursing home. I have had so many emotions in and out of my mind and body since that day, that sometimes, I wasn't sure if I would be able to survive it all. With a lot of faith in God and encouragement from friends and loved ones, I am healing. The one thing that gives me peace and assurance, besides God Himself, is knowing that mother really has no clue of where she is and that she is where she needs to be right now.

The love that I have for my mother, was enough. It turned out that there just wasn't enough of "me."

I try to visit mother on most days, still loving her as much as I always did. It's like one of the nurses said to me, "Now, you can be a daughter to your mother again, instead of her caregiver."

Please continue to keep us in your thoughts and prayers, as we continue on this journey of dementia.

"Broken Promises"

Dear Mother,

Today, I am writing you a letter, for the words I want to say to you are too hard to speak.

Through the years, you have been my everything; my hero, my inspiration, my guide and counselor and most of all my mother. Somehow, it just doesn't seem fair that it has all come down to one day which will change your life and mine, forever.

Today was one of the hardest days I have ever lived. Leaving you to start a new life in a home of perfect strangers was heart wrenching. I thank God that you really don't understand where you are. Once again, unwillingly, I call dementia my friend.

Entering my house, I feel an emptiness. I catch a glimpse of your blue chair sitting by the window and my heart breaks. Hurrying up the stairs, I dare not glance at the double glass doors where hundreds of times I have watched you pass through. I miss you.

So many promises were made to you when I decided to bring you to my house to live. Promises that I had every intention of fulfilling, but have broken. "You will live with me 'til you die Mama" I told you. "We will have a good time Mama, we can take you places," "you'll be able to go to church now, to the beach," "and you'll never have to move again" I said. I'm sorry, please forgive me.

I promise you now, I will always be there for you, day or night. I'll visit you relentlessly, I'll be your voice, your advocate, your strength.

Lastly, I want to say "thank you," for being the most wonderful mother a girl could ever have. After all these things, you still look at me and say "I love you too." You will always be my beautiful mother, I love you without end.---Jean

"Happy Birthday!"

Today is mother's 83rd birthday. Lot's of discussion has been had in anticipation of this day. Thoughts of how to celebrate with someone who will only forget what was done ten minutes later, doesn't give much incentive for elaborate celebration. My husband and I have decided to take mother for some food and Christmas light viewing late in the evening.

I enter mother's bedroom singing "Happy Birthday" I have a range of songs from "The most beautiful girl in the world," "Little LuLu I love You Lu...to "Rise and Shine and Give God the Glory, Glory!" that I greet mother with each morning. Some of these will draw a smile, others seem to annoy her without end. But today is special, it's her birthday and I want her to be reminded of it.

In years past, I have entered mother's bedroom many times, but in another place. Growing up, mother's bedroom was furnished with a huge round unframed mirror. I can remember many a day, joining her in that mirror watching every movement and motion she would make, from brushing her beautiful hair, to lining her lips with garnet red lipstick, preparing herself for the day. "Do I have a hole in the back of my hair?" she would ask. Checking to make sure, she would hand me the hairbrush and either my sister or I would do the honors of putting the finishing touch on a woman who in my eyes "was the most beautiful of all!" As I have mentioned in previous posts, mother was not only beautiful on the outside, but on the inside as well.

Today, I gently pull mother from her lying position and encourage her to sit up straight. Her once beautiful oval face is swollen to one side where she sleeps and fluid gathers. Her beautiful hazel eyes are barely visible through the swollen eyelids that eyeshadow and mascara once adorned.

She finally rises, and slow but sure, makes it to the bathroom door. I stand behind her, and can see in the mirror which hangs on the adjacent wall, an image of a small frail woman that I barely recognize as being my mother. As I wash her face, change her clothes, give instructions for teeth brushing, I visualize myself and mother in earlier years when the roles were reversed. I reach for her hairbrush and stroke from front to back, trying my best to close the "hole" in the back of her head, just like I had done some 50 years ago. The hole won't close as easily as years before. My sister and I jokingly call it now, "the great divide" where mother spends hours a day, lying on her couch, giving permanent division.

This woman that I have loved and adored all my life, now sits before me; dementia riddled and barely a glimpse of the beautiful mother I once knew. I thank GOD in the good times and question HIM in the bad. But today I am thankful that I can say "Happy Birthday, Mother!"