After Midnight Search

Sometimes life is just clearer in retrospect.

I know now that I should have responded to the video monitor’s prompting much sooner. Perhaps I would have been able to get more sleep if I had gone to Mom’s mental rescue sooner. It was after midnight, and Momma was having yet another bad night struggling with sundowning. I watched and listened in on the monitor as she yanked the chain on her bedside lamp and sat up in bed talking to herself. Nothing new; the same questions she always asks – those questions that never go away, even with an answer. I heard the familiar “zip” of her purse as she went through the contents of her purse over and over again. Between each examination of the contents, she would carefully hide the purse beneath her bed sheets. Then, in delighted surprise moments later, “find” the purse and go through the unzip and search motions again.

In the wee hours of the morning she decided to get out of bed. I pushed my head deeper into my pillow and watched from my own bed via the video monitor as she “furniture-walked” without her walker, opening and closing each drawer in her room, rifling through the contents and rearranging everything to her liking. She seemed to be looking for something. Momma was safe enough, just restless and confused. She left the room twice to use the bathroom, but always came back to her bed promptly.

I felt guilty just lying there watching, but I felt utterly exhausted and was in a bit of pain. You know that feeling you have in your leg after a middle of the night leg cramp? Well, I haven’t had a muscle spasm, but I’ve been having that type of “after pain” in my right leg all day. Add in a brewing migraine headache and a mom who just won’t go to sleep, and you have an equation that equals not enough sleep.

At two thirty, I got up to take some more ibuprofen, then drifted off into a state of semi-sleep, still listening, still peeking to see what Momma was up to. By four in the morning the tone in her voice changed to one of frantic agitation, so I made my way down to her bedroom to see if I could help, or at least redirect, so we could both get some rest.

Not wanting to startle her, I flipped on the hallway light so she would see me coming, rather than just have me appear out of nowhere in her room.

Bleary-eyed, I said in my loudest sleepy voice, “Momma, you really need to get some sleep.”

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“Well, I’m not going to bed until I figure out who the guy in this picture is.” Momma held out a photo she normally carries in her purse. It was a picture of her with my Dad. I told her, “Well, that is you and Dad.” I could see her beginning to process that information and quickly realized that she was processing the word “dad” and couldn’t make the transition in her brain from my dad to her husband. I added, “Momma, that is your husband, Jerry.”

“Oh, Jerry Robert! Well, now that I know that, I can go to bed,” declared my sweet Momma as she crawled into her bed and nestled her weary from wondering head into the pillows I had fluffed for her.

It was a little disheartening to know that she was struggling to remember her husband’s name, and that I had let her struggle with that search for so many hours, rather than helping her fill in that piece of information so she could feel more settled. How scary that must have been for her.

I sleepily climbed the stairs and went back to my own bed with a prayer in my heart for Momma and me. This time, sleep came easily. Four and one-half hours of sweet sleep.

Trusting in God When Mountains Crumble

This morning Momma emerged from her room carrying a photograph and a ballpoint pen. She had an all too familiar look of confusion on her face as she shuffled walker-less to her place at the kitchen table. As she gingerly turned herself and plopped hard in her chair she lamented, “I just can’t remember anything today. What day it is, what time it is, who I am, why I’m here. It’s all so confusing. And who is this in this picture?”

I took a peek at the picture to see if I could help. It was one of the pictures my sister had been wondering about. The photo, along with a handful of other pictures of Viv’s children in their growing up years, had mysteriously disappeared during her last visit with Momma. Knowing Mom’s propensity to hide things, Viv had texted asking me to keep an eye out for the photos. I had found the others, but had missed this one.

“That’s your grandson Scotty when he was a boy. He’s a daddy himself now.” Momma sat silently studying the picture for a few moments, willing her mind to remember, but obviously drawing a blank. “Oh, no! I wrote on the back of it!”

Momma’s handwriting was definitely on the back of it, and the picture had been ruined by the tell-tale ballpoint markings. Momma had used the photo as if it were a piece of scrap paper, copying what she had read off of the face of the clock in her bedroom. Momma tried to reconcile what she had written on the photo with what she saw on the clock on the microwave. “No, it’s supposed to be 7:13, not 7:30!”

There was no point in trying to explain that time changes by the second. This was one of those moments in Momma’s changing world of Alzheimer’s where I could almost feel another piece of Momma’s mind slipping away.

I asked Momma if she remembered her name. She assured me she knew it, but wouldn’t say it. I prompted, “Of course, you know you’re Charlotte Peet Boyles.” She looked relieved at the reminder of what her name was as she nodded her head in agreement. I smiled at Momma in an effort to encourage and calm her, but on the inside, I cried knowing she was fearful of what was happening to her.

I find comfort in knowing I am not alone in this phase of life. I follow a blog called “God’s Grace and Mom’s Alzheimer’s.” The author’s own Mama had gone Home to be with Jesus in December of 2016, after a long battle with Alzheimer’s. Cheryl had been there with her through it all. Now, her mother-in-law lives with her, traveling a similar path in life. Today’s post met me where I am. I share it (click on the link below) for those of you who are in a similar place in life right now – in need of a reminder of God’s grace in the midst of a seemingly impossible trial.

Source: Trusting in God When Mountains Crumble

Fidelity Viewpoint – Managing Cognitive Decline

This is a helpful reminder for those who are helping family members with cognitive challenges and for those of us who might start to struggle at some point in the future. I am thankful that my wife’s mother recognized that she needed help and then accepted help. Her financial “advisors” were not doing a good job and they were charging her for the work they were doing. We made changes together while she was still able to make decisions regarding her future. Now she is no longer able to do that. She was wise to act when she could and set in place the right legal documents with her attorney’s help.

Read this article for more helpful information:

Managing cognitive decline

Life: Just a Few Handbreadths

As I take care of Momma, the familial aspect of Alzheimer’s disease sometimes scares me. That fear isn’t all bad, in that it helps me realize that it is true that my lifetime is just a “few handbreadths,” a “mere vapor” that will pass before I know it. What I do with my days really does matter. Continue reading “Life: Just a Few Handbreadths”

Junk Mail Queen

Wayne and I would encourage everyone with an elderly family member to keep a close watch on their loved one’s mailbox (and checkbook and credit card statements). This world is so full of organizations unscrupulously preying on the heartstrings of the elderly and frail, many of whom are feeble of mind and unable to understand the ramifications of the checks they write or the information they provide.

I’m taking a moment today to reshare this Facebook note I previously published on July 10, 2016.  As you know, since publishing this a little over a year ago, we have moved my mother in with us and have a much better handle on what mail she sees, but my heart still goes out to all of those elderly victims of junk mail abuse. Please click on over to my blog to read (or re-read).

Continue reading “Junk Mail Queen”

Alzheimer’s: It’s not “a walk in the park”

a walk in the park

something that is very easy to do, and usually pleasant: 
He’s used to hard physical work – this is a walk in the park to him. (Cambridge Advanced Learners Dictionary and Thesaurus)

Momma and I took a walk in the park at the end of my block today. Actually, I did the walking as I pushed her in a wheelchair through the park, around a little pond, past a Splash Pad play area, and home again. I tried to make it interesting as I pointed out various trees, flowers and critters along the way. Though she enjoyed it (especially seeing the children joyfully playing at the Splash Pad), the walk was peppered with worry and fretful questions.

Continue reading “Alzheimer’s: It’s not “a walk in the park””