A good day...

I took the day off yesterday to hang out with Mom.  I didn't feel compelled to take her anywhere (the doctor, a haircut). I brought one of her (and my) favorite funny movies “Mrs. Doubtfire” with Robin Williams.  There were many funny scenes, but we both laughed so hard we cried when Mrs. Doubtfire (Robin Williams dressed up like an elderly dowager) was vacuuming, dancing to “Dude Looks Like a Lady”.

Later we had lunch in the dining room and sat in a circular table with Mom’s friends.  Mom introduced me to them: “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Julie” even though I had known them for at least a year.  It was okay though, since they just smiled and said that it was nice to meet me.  Some had dementia like Mom, so they felt this was the first time we’d met.  Others remembered me, so they just politely nodded with a slight smile. Many words were forgotten by Mom over a lunch of chicken salad. She either replaced the lost word with one that was top of mind or just left it out. I’ve gotten used to this as well as the slower cadence of her speech. If she is reminded of her difficulties with word finding she becomes frustrated and more words disappear. It is best to just nod and smile.

After lunch we took a walk around the circular facility.  Mom pointed out various rooms (laundry, activity, mail room).  I have been by these rooms more times than I can count over the last year and a half, but that is okay.  Mom does not remember this, so it is best to incorporate myself into her world and see these things for the first time. I most act in the manner of a first-time visitor.

We talked as we walked. Mom is now using a rolling walker.  She has pink and white flowers on the left side handle, so she may distinguish her walker from others. Mom gets along fairly well with this walking aid, yet it is clear that age and her dementia are impacting her mentally as well as physically. 

I often find a sudden sadness when I focus on things such as this.  I make sure I cover it up when I am with Mom though.  It is better to hide these feelings and wait until the drive home.  Sometimes I let myself cry.  Sometimes I become angry that I am slowly losing my mother to this disease.  I remind myself that I must focus on the present and be mindful that she still is able to recognize the people most close to her. She is able to call us if she needs us (I have written our phone numbers in a large print book as she cannot remember them).  I've also written our birthdays and her wedding anniversary dates down, so she may refer to them as needed. I was saddened when I realized Mom was at this point, yet I forced myself to to me mindful and focus on the present. 

As we were sitting in Mom’s apartment after the walk, I noticed that when she tires, she struggles more with her word finding.  Despite this she was able to talk a bit about her future with me. She asked me how she was supposed to fill the rest of her days.  I thought about how to answer this question.  I needed to be supportive yet truthful.  I told her that she should perhaps live day to day.  I told her that the question of how to spend the rest of our days was one we all struggled with.  When we are younger it seems that life will last an eternity.  When we get older (perhaps in middle age) we become acutely aware of time passing.  It seems to do so much quicker.  I have felt a bit of a panic as I am now 55. I too struggle with this question: “How do I spend the rest of my days?”.

I will soon be an empty nester as my son, Quentin (Q) , will be graduating from college and entering the military.  At that time, I will be free to live my life as I see fit.  Do I move, or do I stay here? Do I do contract work or obtain a full-time position?  Do I work in the helping profession (I am a social worker and a psychologist) or do I change career paths (I will have earned my master’s degree in human resources by the time Q graduates)? Having choices is good, yet it can also evoke anxiety and worry.

Back to Mom and the day hanging out.  We had some ice cream as the night approached (Blue Bell homemade vanilla is her favorite).  I turned on her lamps and closed her blinds. I turned down her bedding and fluffed her pillows. (I had always wanted to do this). It was getting late.  We both were tired, yet in a happy way. I gave Mom a kiss on the cheek and smoothed her hair.  It was a good day.