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.

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My parents

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)

Sundowners and Sleepless Nights

“Hi, Cindie!” said Momma with more brightness in her voice than a live-in caregiving daughter hopes for at 1:52 a.m.

“Hi, Momma,” I groggily responded as I peered into her bedroom doorway. “What are you up to?”  The soft light from the streetlight outside mom’s bedroom window snuck in a bit through the slats of her blinds, allowing me to see her distinctly hunched form in silhouette as she sat in the dark on the edge of the bed.

Out of the darkness, her voice continued, Continue reading “Sundowners and Sleepless Nights”

Forgetting Time

Tissue alert.

This post is another in a series of my Facebook posts from 2015 related to caring for my mother. It’s really hard for me to re-post it without shedding my own tears. Those who are walking alongside a loved one struggling through the various stages of Alzheimer’s will probably relate very well. By the time you realize that the momentary lapse of memory is something more than the natural aging process forgetfulness, hints at “forgetting time” or how to tell time have already begun. Continue reading “Forgetting Time”

Giving Momma Space

It is generally not a good idea to leave a person with Alzheimer’s alone. We are at the point in the progression of the disease where it is never a good idea. But, after a few days of company and a revolving door of caregivers, Mom needed her space and wanted to be left alone. I’m thankful for D-Link, a Wi-Fi camera which allows me to keep an eye on her while I sit in the apartment lobby and work on a bit of writing for my new blog. There are other security cameras out there, but this is the one we chose after doing a little comparison research. D-Link is affordable, easy to set up, allows for multiple cameras (in other rooms), and offers 15 feet of night-vision, and the ability to pan and tilt the camera remotely. Continue reading “Giving Momma Space”

Ice Cream and Car Keys

What irony that I am posting this reminisce on the very night that my mom got into a carton of ice cream behind my back. She had no recollection of where the empty carton came from, but her tummy remembers. Continue reading “Ice Cream and Car Keys”