Alzheimer's and Band-Aids

As a little girl, I would get the occasional cut. The best part of having a scrape was the band-aid. Of course the band-aids back in the day were bland compared to the colorful band-aids of today with a myriad of characters dancing across the thin strip. The worse part was when it was time to remove the band-aid. Dad had a way of taking it off quickly with one swift tug. As I got older I would try to take it off slowly, thinking that would be less painful. I was wrong. Ripping it off quickly may hurt, but the pain is over in an instant. And it is finished. Slowly peeling the band-aid prolongs the process.

Alzheimer’s is the proverbial band-aid being torn off slowly, over and over.

Mom has not been able to drive for over a year now. Her neurologist feels it is not safe for her to drive. We all agree. Except for Mom, who doesn’t understand why she can’t drive. Worse of all, she doesn’t remember this restriction on her independence.

Each time we catch her with keys in her hand we have to tell her that she is not allowed to drive. She looks incredulously at us. Defeated once again, Mom fades with each instance.

Yesterday, it happened again. She was going out. Dad asked her where she was going and she replied that she was going to buy a bottle of wine. This is a double whammy problem. Alcohol speeds up the memory loss process. So not only is she not allowed to drive, she can not drink, either.

I was working in my office and heard Mom asking why she can’t drive. Dad had to tell her that the doctor said she was not allowed to drive. He implores, “Please, Marilyn. You can not drive a car.” Taking a breath, he adds on the next blow, “And you can not drink any wine”. Her voice got louder and she was pissed, “I can so drive and I am going out!”

Sensing that Dad needed reinforcement, I pop into the kitchen t. It is so hard for him. He wants to take care of his wife, yet it pains him to not give her what she wants. This is his wife of 50+ years. He is torn. It is a no-win situation.

Standing next to Dad trying to appear as a united front, I state, “Mom, you can’t drive and you can’t drink wine. It isn’t just Dad and it isn’t just me. It’s all of us, your children and your grandchildren, who love you and want to take care of you”.

“Fine! I am a prisoner in my own home!” Mom stormed off.

It is times like this that I think of the band-aid slowly being removed, over and over. It never ends. And it hurts me to have to do this over and over. Each time it is like the first time. Each time it is a slap in the face for Mom. Each time she gets a little more upset. And the bitch of it is that there is nothing we can do about it.

I really hate this disease! I want to know why there isn’t any magic pill to treat it.

Instead, Alzheimer’s is a long and painful process where each day a new attack on Mom’s independence is waiting just around the bend.

JaneEllen