Mom is beginning to get a her words mixed up. For awhile she would forget names of grandkids and other people. We all do that from time to time, but self-correct. The difference is that Mom doesn’t know the difference.
Recently, I went to the doc’s with Mom and Dad. I dropped them off and went run a quick errand. They both were there for basic monitoring. By the time I was ushered back to the exam room, the doc was asking Mom how she was doing. Mom gave the usual answer, “Fine”. He looked right at me and asked how things were going. I hate that! I felt like I was betraying her, I was being disloyal. My head knew I had to report accurately, but my heart hated doing it with her right there. It sucked!
I reported that her memory was not better and that she was having difficulty with organization and complex thinking. Mom just sat there with a blank stare on her face. I don’t even know if she understood what I was saying. Anyway, she was put on additional memory medicine, Nemenda. That just means that she is entering into another phase of Alzheimer’s. As if I didn’t know that already.
As I said in the beginning, she is now mixing up her words. One evening I was cooking dinner (Isn’t this ironic – I hate to cook and here I am cooking most nights – what is God thinking??? He must have a twisted sense of humor and getting a laugh out of this one; I guess I will have to ask Him that one over a cup of hot chocolate when we meet – sorry I digress).
Back to dinner….spinach was cooking on the stove. Mom takes a peek and says, “Oh the lettuce is cooking”. Another time she was looking for her ceramic bunny for our Easter basket in the front hall. I suggested that she look in the secretary. She looked in the dining room corner hutch. This scene repeated itself the next night. I wanted to see if she knew where to look. She went right to the hutch, again. I suggested she look in the secretary in the living room. Then she found the bunny. The other night I was thawing chicken in the microwave. Each time Mom went to check on the thawing, she would look in the oven, even though I said it was in the microwave. I would then redirect her to the microwave. What is weird is that she doesn’t seem to react to the redirecting. She just says, “Oh yea”. Maybe this is the silver lining. Mom doesn’t know that she is slipping down the slope a little bit at a time. Then again, I don’t know if somewhere in all of the tangled fibers of her brain, she knows she is slipping, but can’t articulate it. I pray for the former; the latter is more painful for her. And for me.
As for the new med, I figure the meds are really for the family of the one with Alzheimer’s. It helps the family feel like they are doing something to combat this disease. Not even close.
We just keep moving through our days. I am learning to truly appreciate her moments of clarity. And I pray for patience when those moments evaporate like sunbeams slicing through the morning mist.
Peace,
JaneEllen
Recently, I went to the doc’s with Mom and Dad. I dropped them off and went run a quick errand. They both were there for basic monitoring. By the time I was ushered back to the exam room, the doc was asking Mom how she was doing. Mom gave the usual answer, “Fine”. He looked right at me and asked how things were going. I hate that! I felt like I was betraying her, I was being disloyal. My head knew I had to report accurately, but my heart hated doing it with her right there. It sucked!
I reported that her memory was not better and that she was having difficulty with organization and complex thinking. Mom just sat there with a blank stare on her face. I don’t even know if she understood what I was saying. Anyway, she was put on additional memory medicine, Nemenda. That just means that she is entering into another phase of Alzheimer’s. As if I didn’t know that already.
As I said in the beginning, she is now mixing up her words. One evening I was cooking dinner (Isn’t this ironic – I hate to cook and here I am cooking most nights – what is God thinking??? He must have a twisted sense of humor and getting a laugh out of this one; I guess I will have to ask Him that one over a cup of hot chocolate when we meet – sorry I digress).
Back to dinner….spinach was cooking on the stove. Mom takes a peek and says, “Oh the lettuce is cooking”. Another time she was looking for her ceramic bunny for our Easter basket in the front hall. I suggested that she look in the secretary. She looked in the dining room corner hutch. This scene repeated itself the next night. I wanted to see if she knew where to look. She went right to the hutch, again. I suggested she look in the secretary in the living room. Then she found the bunny. The other night I was thawing chicken in the microwave. Each time Mom went to check on the thawing, she would look in the oven, even though I said it was in the microwave. I would then redirect her to the microwave. What is weird is that she doesn’t seem to react to the redirecting. She just says, “Oh yea”. Maybe this is the silver lining. Mom doesn’t know that she is slipping down the slope a little bit at a time. Then again, I don’t know if somewhere in all of the tangled fibers of her brain, she knows she is slipping, but can’t articulate it. I pray for the former; the latter is more painful for her. And for me.
As for the new med, I figure the meds are really for the family of the one with Alzheimer’s. It helps the family feel like they are doing something to combat this disease. Not even close.
We just keep moving through our days. I am learning to truly appreciate her moments of clarity. And I pray for patience when those moments evaporate like sunbeams slicing through the morning mist.
Peace,
JaneEllen
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