One of the things that keeps Momma up at night during her Sundowning episodes is wondering whether she has enough money. She’ll go through her purse countless times in search of cash, a checkbook, a credit card…something. Anything that tells her she is okay financially. Continue reading “Alzheimer’s and Money Worries”
Tag: checkbook
Hearing the Voice
Facebook Journal Entry – October 13, 2015
About 30 seconds after wheeling her cart into her local Pick n’ Save grocery store, Momma abruptly stopped in front of the produce section and informed me she needed to take her hearing aids out. The clatter of carts, the din of voices, and incessant cash register beeping were just too much. She pulled each device out and carefully placed them in a little pouch we keep in her purse. With a look of great satisfaction on her face, she smiled broadly, and said, “Ahhhh! Peace and quiet.”
But, Momma’s quiet world isn’t always quiet. Occasionally, she’ll be sitting in her favorite chair and then suddenly wave her hand in agitation, as if shooing someone away. “Oh, be quiet! Go away!” she’ll scold. I’ll ask Momma who she is talking to and she’ll reply, “Don’t you hear him? He keeps singing that same song over and over and over again!” When I ask her to describe what she is hearing, she tells me it is a man’s voice and he’s singing opera. I hear nothing of the sort. But, Momma hears “him” quite often throughout the day.
I know a little bit about hearing repetitive sounds. I have tinnitus, a condition which causes both of my ears to ring with each beat of my heart. Every day – every night – ALL the time. Sadly, there is no cure. During the day, the noises of life all but drown it out. In the still of the night, only sleep helps me escape the constant noise. I shudder to think of having to listen to a man singing opera all of the time. Even if I happened to enjoy opera, that would be much harder to deal with than the phone that no one answers that I hear in my own head.
It is difficult seeing my sweet mom struggling with so many things in life. Mom has osteoarthritis – her knees and hands hurt a lot. Walking is becoming more and more of a struggle. Her short term memory loss becomes more pronounced each week – that in itself is heart breaking. Even with the aid of hearing aids, mom’s deafness is becoming more profound.
It’s the memory loss that seems to bother mom the most. Just today we were looking for her checkbook (again), a frequent activity. Those who experience short-term memory loss often have an associated paranoia. They think “somebody” else is moving their stuff…or, worse yet, stealing their stuff. So, they keep moving their stuff in an effort to hide it from the unscrupulous “somebody.” In reality, they’re hiding the items from themselves; sometimes very successfully.
Today I walked in on one of Momma’s searches for her missing checkbook. She was kneeling in front of the couch, lifting the little skirt surrounding the couch and peering underneath. The checkbook wasn’t there…but she found the cookies she hid weeks ago. Wincing in pain, Momma willed her arthritic knees to crawl closer to the sofa so she could use it to assist her in returning to a standing position. In excruciating pain and with tears rolling down her cheeks, I heard Momma say under her breath as she straightened her knees, “Jesus, please take me home soon.”
Though it made me cry inside, I found myself praying in my spirit along with her, “Lord Jesus, hear Momma’s prayer.”
Someday, perhaps very soon, Momma will hear the Voice of her Savior telling her, “It’s time to come home, Charlotte. I’ve been waiting and have a place ready for you.”
Soon, Momma, soon.
Update: Momma has reluctantly graduated to a walker and doesn’t carry a checkbook or wear hearing aids anymore, but she still hears voices. Dad has been in his heavenly home since May of 2008 but she sometimes “hears” him speak to her. She has a picture on her dresser of the two of them and occasionally asks me if I see his lips moving too. I even heard her scold him once and tell him to be quiet. The opera singer has apparently followed her to Fitchburg, much to her disapproval. And Momma still longs to hear the voice of her Savior and take up her new body and her citizenship in heaven any day now.
“But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.”~ Philippians 3:20 (NIV)
Spreadsheets (and other scary things)
Math has never been my strong suit. My earliest memory of my aversion to mathematics goes back to grade school. Details are fuzzy, but flash cards and standing with chalk in hand at a blackboard with snickering classmates behind me were involved in the torture. No amount of remedial help or after supper tutoring from my dad could erase the ill feeling of dread and fear whenever our teacher would stand in front of the class with a stack of paper and ask us to put our books away and take a pencil out of our desks. I can still picture her walking up and down each row of evenly spaced desks, placing a sheet of paper face-down on our desks, instructing us not to turn it over until she gave us permission. The only thing pleasant about the dreaded math quiz experience was the strangely pleasing pungent aroma of the alcohol (spirits) on the fresh, purple-inked quiz paper freshly printed on a “spirit-processed” Ditto machine (now I’m really dating myself).
I dreaded getting my paper back after my teacher graded it too. That purple ink on the page would more often than not be accompanied by numerous red check-marks next to each wrong answer. Oftentimes, right next to the grade at the top of the paper, there would be a little note from the teacher that said “See Me” or something like that. It was embarrassing to never quite “get it” when everyone else around me (so it seemed) was catching on just fine.
In marriage, opposites often attract. My husband enjoys math. It’s probably not an exaggeration of facts to say that
playing with numbers brings him great satisfaction. On a related note, he truly enjoys spreadsheets. Creating them. Updating them. Analyzing them. Sharing them. He’s the type of guy that looks at pieces of information and says with a smile, “Hey, let’s build a spreadsheet for that!”
While I struggle with remembering which credit card to use in each purchasing situation, drag my feet at keeping spreadsheets updated, struggle with understanding investment principles, and chafe at always being asked for receipts for updating those spreadsheets, I can be thankful my husband is strong in those areas. His love of managing details means we can pull up a piece of needed information with a moment’s notice when caring for my mom and brother. It means he is a natural choice to be their financial power of attorney (a job I very willingly relinquish). It means our own budget is always balanced. Our retirement investments always well-tended and growing. Our bank account never lacking. Our vehicle and home maintenance always scheduled at appropriate times. Our emergency fund always available. Our taxes always done on time and without error. Our giving always done wisely and with generosity.
For this man, I give thanks to God.
Barefoot Lily Lady 