And Now a Short Emotion Break
I was going to write something totally different, and then this happened. So here's a dose of emotion.
Nothing prepares you for dementia. Nothing. Nope, not death. Not even sudden death. Our dad died rather suddenly - 6 weeks after his cancer diagnosis. I have experienced the deaths of classmates, colleagues, friends and family members. I have walked with friends and family through terminal illnesses. And none of that has prepared me for the emotional roller coaster of dementia. Last night I went off on Voyageur. Like a 20-something year old filled with angst and anger. I wanted Voyageur to come in and fix everything, make Mom better, as though she had those powers.
I had talked with Mom on the phone. Mom's confusion has progressed, the phone itself was a little confusing to her. That, and the phone stations are somewhat public, so she gets distracted easily too. Add on top of that I called a few minutes after 6pm - prime sundowners time. We talked only for a couple of minutes, Mom wanted to get off the phone. I talked with Mom on Saturday too, but the time before that was the previous Sunday. I was feeling guilty because the time difference makes it challenging for me to call her at the best times for the memory care facility, and I was hoping Voyageur was visiting as often as I wanted her to.
Well of course Voyageur has her own life, husband, work and schedule work arounds. And not seeing Mom as often as I wanted her there, because I can't be there. And maybe, just maybe - if we talk with Mom enough, spend enough time with her - the disease will stall in time for some scientist to find a cure. Well, Dreamer, there is no f'ing cure, only progression. And these past 6 months we've seen a ton of progression. From wandering to heightened anxiety to increased confusion. And I miss my mom. A lot.
So Voyageur got the brunt of the emotions. And thankfully, because we have a solid relationship, she didn't yell back, although the phone conversation was cut short. Later I apologized and we talked about how much Mom has progressed and how scary it is. And how she will never be the same and neither will we. And in a crazy maze of dementia, my relationship with Voyageur is better and stronger now than pre-Mom dementia.
Yet, even in the midst of all the confusion, Mom is still Mom. She likes to laugh, loves to help others, loves gardening, loves her family, loves music. No question there are some major ebbs and flows happening now. Dad would say there there are more gifts here than coal. My sister isn't Wonder Woman, but she is an amazing compassionate sister and daughter. (Thanks for understanding the upset was not about you) And if it's true that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, at some point we will have super powers. Well, hell - as Dad would say If you wake up and don't want to smile, If it takes just a little while, Open your eyes and look at the day, You'll see things in a different way. Or maybe it was Fleetwood Mac. Something like that.
Kickin' it back to you Voyageur.
Nothing prepares you for dementia. Nothing. Nope, not death. Not even sudden death. Our dad died rather suddenly - 6 weeks after his cancer diagnosis. I have experienced the deaths of classmates, colleagues, friends and family members. I have walked with friends and family through terminal illnesses. And none of that has prepared me for the emotional roller coaster of dementia. Last night I went off on Voyageur. Like a 20-something year old filled with angst and anger. I wanted Voyageur to come in and fix everything, make Mom better, as though she had those powers.
I had talked with Mom on the phone. Mom's confusion has progressed, the phone itself was a little confusing to her. That, and the phone stations are somewhat public, so she gets distracted easily too. Add on top of that I called a few minutes after 6pm - prime sundowners time. We talked only for a couple of minutes, Mom wanted to get off the phone. I talked with Mom on Saturday too, but the time before that was the previous Sunday. I was feeling guilty because the time difference makes it challenging for me to call her at the best times for the memory care facility, and I was hoping Voyageur was visiting as often as I wanted her to.
Well of course Voyageur has her own life, husband, work and schedule work arounds. And not seeing Mom as often as I wanted her there, because I can't be there. And maybe, just maybe - if we talk with Mom enough, spend enough time with her - the disease will stall in time for some scientist to find a cure. Well, Dreamer, there is no f'ing cure, only progression. And these past 6 months we've seen a ton of progression. From wandering to heightened anxiety to increased confusion. And I miss my mom. A lot.
So Voyageur got the brunt of the emotions. And thankfully, because we have a solid relationship, she didn't yell back, although the phone conversation was cut short. Later I apologized and we talked about how much Mom has progressed and how scary it is. And how she will never be the same and neither will we. And in a crazy maze of dementia, my relationship with Voyageur is better and stronger now than pre-Mom dementia.
Yet, even in the midst of all the confusion, Mom is still Mom. She likes to laugh, loves to help others, loves gardening, loves her family, loves music. No question there are some major ebbs and flows happening now. Dad would say there there are more gifts here than coal. My sister isn't Wonder Woman, but she is an amazing compassionate sister and daughter. (Thanks for understanding the upset was not about you) And if it's true that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, at some point we will have super powers. Well, hell - as Dad would say If you wake up and don't want to smile, If it takes just a little while, Open your eyes and look at the day, You'll see things in a different way. Or maybe it was Fleetwood Mac. Something like that.
Kickin' it back to you Voyageur.