I Love You, Now Stop Scaring The Crap Out Of Me!
 |
| Mom playing with Halloween decorations at a local store. |
When I've have a difficult day (or week) I try to use the commute to mom's house to change my mood, put myself in the right, relaxed frame of mind to roll with whatever her dementia brings my way. Most of the time it works. Yesterday it as a sticky 90+ degree day and I was struggling.
She's been telling me her watches have stopped and she'd like to get new batteries for them. So, first stop, Sears for watch batteries. After a bit of looking for and not finding the watch repair section we finally arrive. The man at the counter turns around to help us. Medium height, round, dyed black hair pulled back in a ponytail - combed over to hide a growing bald spot. Black shirt, red tie and two necklaces. One with a pentagram, the other a bat. A pentagram?! WTF! And a bat?! I'm there with my demented mom, I DO NOT need some dude wearing a pentagram waiting on us. Somewhere in this scene god is laughing at the irony and comedic gold of this little situation. He's nice enough, I recover from the weirdness a bit - just time time for mom to say he's kind of big and scary. He laughs, I cringe and regain my edge, which grows sharper when he starts talking about going to the Renaissance Festival in character as some kind of barbarian with an axe over his shoulder. WTF! This just gets weirder by the minute and I can't wait to pay and get the hell away from him. Thirty dollars later she has 3 working watches and we leave for the safer ground of Wendy's for lunch.
Mom and I tend to go to the same places - it's comforting and less confusing for her, and she gets to know the people there. We expand the circle when and if she's good with it. So we go to her favorite Wendy's for lunch. Mom's in the mood for a berry almond salad. No, wait a minute. She's seen the sign for the caramel apple frosty parfait and would like one of those instead. Her version of being naughty...having ice cream for lunch. We have a seat in the dinning room and talk over lunch.
Unfortunately it gives me a moment to think too. She's been walking and talking more slowly than usual today - feels sad to me. She talks about dad in mixed tenses - like he's still alive, then knowing he's passed away. He's been gone eight years and I still miss him. I try not to cry around mom when she does the mixed tense thing. It feels like she's winding down, like a watch with a draining battery. She's not spunky today and it worries me. I make a mental note for a doctor's appointment.
Finished with our food, she suggests we go to the craft store. Sounds like a good idea, maybe bring a spark back. Not so much, still walking slowly and it seems the store is just a little overwhelming. We'd been to JoAnn's recently but not Michael's. Perhaps the store is unfamiliar this trip. I try to make our outings fun and tailored to her needs - no bad experiences if I can help it. She finds a small storage box she can't do without. We check out and go home.
I spend some time talking with her over cold pop, give her a hug and kiss, leave for home. Less than ten minutes later she calls needing to go to the drug store for something. So I turn around, scoop her up and go to the corner drug store only to find she doesn't have her wallet. I'm afraid we left it at the craft store. I pay for her purchase, go back to her place where her wallet is on the kitchen table thank god. I hug her and leave for home again.
I still had to do some grocery shopping for me and my husband, so in the heat and a bit cranky I go shopping for my own household, return home. I felt emotionally spent and raw - sad dementia day. Not much laughing for us today.
At nine o'clock last night my phone rings - it's mom. She's worried, tells me she can't find dad. I start crying, but try not to show it on the phone. "Aw mom, dad's been passed away now for a few years." She starts crying. "I'm so relieved. I thought he was lost and stuck in a ditch somewhere. Let me get something to write with so I can write the date he died." So many reasons to cry with this statement...She finally finds a pen that writes, we say the date together. It's been eight years already. So glad he's not here to see mom's decline, it would have killed him to see her like this. She's ok at this point, we hang up.
I crumple into hubby's arms crying, so spent, so sad. Nothing left to do but cuddle into him and fall asleep
EMOTIONALLY EXHAUSTED and cried out. This is only part of how caregivers live, but it's a big part.
Back to you Dreamer....