Missing Mom
I talked to Mom on the phone today. She is ninety-one and lives with my brother about 4 hours away and he calls me to talk to her when she?s having an especially bad time or needs to be distracted for a while. She has Alzheimer’s Disease and is in the terrible stage of being frightened all the time and feeling her mind slipping away. It is almost gone. She is always afraid and confused and unable to reason or hold a thought. Sometimes when I talk to her I feel her panic. When I am with her I can see that panic in her eyes.
What a hideous disease that robs a person of their life while they are still living. Most of the time, Mom can’t remember what has happened in the past few minutes. Part of the time we can get her to remember things in the past if we do the talking and she listens and isn’t pressured to answer questions. If we ask her anything, “How are you, Mom,” her mind shuts down and she can’t figure it out. Her most common answer is “I don’t know. How am I?” She can’t remember how to eat; it is confusing to get the food onto a spoon and to her mouth. She doesn’t even know if she is comfortable or not … only that something is wrong and she doesn’t know how to fix it. She asks to go to the bathroom five minutes after she has been there because she can’t remember if she needs to go or not.
We’re talking about my mother … the woman who has always been there for me. She taught me how to be a person; a little girl, a friend, a teenager, a wife, a mother, a teacher … a woman. She taught me how to have confidence in myself, how to love music, play the piano, cook, clean the house, do the laundry, to enjoy good books. She taught me now to be a good neighbor and serve others. Now when I help her to the bathroom she can’t remember what she is supposed to do so I prompt her through each step and she says, “How do you know how to do all these things?” “You taught me, Mom.” I answer. “I did?” she replies with astonishment on her face.
It was hard to lose Dad when he died. I still miss him and it’s been twelve years. One day he was here, and the next minute gone. But Mom has been disappearing a little every day for three years. She’s still alive, but even when I sit by her and hold her hand I miss her. I miss our talks, our laughing over silly jokes we didn’t have to explain to each other. I miss watching a good movie with her, playing cards, going shopping. I miss taking her for long rides and sitting by her side in church. I miss her comforting encouragement when I am down. I miss playing duets on the piano and organ and singing with her. I miss knowing she is happy. Until recently mother was always happy, even through the hard times. Now I pray every day that Mom can feel happiness and peace. She has earned that … hasn’t she?
Technorati Tags: Alzhiemers Disease, Aging Parents, Dimentia
