I had a little fun playing in the dirt today. It felt good to feel the warm earth between my toes. I had to dodge a few raindrops, but was able to work on a special project. I planted a little succulent garden in the top of a stump left behind when our ash tree was cut down. I decided to take advantage of the gorgeous day knowing that tomorrow will bring some big changes at my house.
Tomorrow Momma comes home to live with us. She’ll move into the dining room turned bedroom and call it “home” for the foreseeable future. Our just-the-two-of-us house will become home to three of us. Life as we know it will change significantly.
Momma’s roommate in the nursing home shared, “I really like your Momma, and I especially like you. But, I’m glad your mom is going home because I will be able to get some sleep again. How are you going to do it? Your mom stays up all night!”
I told Angie that I’m hoping that being busy and engaged during the day will help her rest better at night. I’m hoping that having the security of family will help her rest more securely. But, I know my sleep will not be the same. From now on, we’ll be keeping overnight tabs on mom via a video baby monitor. Her noises and movements will undoubtedly change my sleep habits.
It’s not going to be easy providing home care. It will inconvenience me. It will probably make me tired. It will stretch me in ways I can’t even begin to imagine. I will not have enough strength and resources to go around. I see that already.
But, I know God has lead me to do this for my mother. He will provide everything I need.
Getting my mother to leave her apartment for ANY reason is difficult these days. Mom had an appointment with her memory doctor on Thursday and I was very relieved it was Viv’s turn to get her ready to go. I told my sister she’d need to start about 2 hours beforehand, gave her a few tips, and warned her Mom would likely give her a little guff about the doctor’s appointment and ask where they were going about 50 times.
I was at home getting ready to leave the house to go out to lunch with my husband when I received this text from Viv.
It made me smile.
I wasn’t smiling because it was funny (well, maybe a little). I smiled because I knewViv knew. This experience had helped her better understand that taking care of our mom was hard…and that I need her help.
I know in my heart it’s not “me” doing this, so I sent Viv this reply text.
The appointment was just a routine check-in with her geriatric specialist to make sure all was well with regard to her Alzheimer’s medication regimen and to find out if there were any new concerns. I did have a concern. Mom had been complaining of difficulty breathing for a few days and seemed a little more irritable and confused. She always has troubles with her allergies, but this seemed different.
Sure enough, when the medical assistant took her vitals, she expressed concern that mom’s heart rate was only 44. That would be a good heart rate for an uber-athletic man, but not an elderly woman whose heart rate is usually around 68. I was pretty sure that the medication donezepil (Aricept) was the culprit. I didn’t think that the Aricept was providing measurable improvement, so wondered if we should discontinue it.
To be on the safe side, the nurse practitioner wanted to rule out heart problems. Orders were placed for blood tests, an EKG and a chest x-ray. Mom even got an escorted wheelchair ride as part of her ordeal. The medical assistant who pushed mom had the sweetest personality and threw me looks of compassion for mom as my sweet momma asked the same question at least five times between the doctor’s office on the 2nd floor and the lab in the basement.
Mom is mobility challenged and hard of hearing, so I suited up in a lead apron and helped my mom stay in position for the chest x-ray, using a loud voice to instruct “breathe in and hold” and “exhale” at the appropriate times. Then I answered mom’s questions as the technician got her hooked up for the EKG. Long story short: all is well with her testing. No A-fib, heart problems or stroke. The medication was probably to blame, so we were instructed to discontinue that medication, take her pulse daily, and visit her primary doctor in a week or two to reassess.
I followed Viv and mom out of the nurse practitioner’s exam room. As I stepped toward the door, I felt her hand on my shoulder. I turned toward her and saw a look of compassion. Her eyes were telling me, “I know this is hard. I’m here for you.”
I’m extremely thankful my sister was able to accompany us on this bit of the journey. As I have gotten to know other family caregivers along the way, I realize all the more how blessed I am to have a sister who is willing to help out a few days each month. Sadly, there are a lot of lone ranger caregivers out there who have zero support from members of their family.
Please. If you know one of these dear people, do what you can to bless them with your help and encouragement. Be God’s grace in their lives. They need it.
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.”
“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.
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”
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”
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”