The Day Harry Didn't Come.

She came to me, asking, "Can you help me with my hair?"

"Of course."

She looked very neat and pretty in a striped blouse and slacks. Her makeup was lightly and neatly applied. Just a whisper of blush, a slip a frosted peach lipstick. I pulled out the brush and helped turn her bob under using a curling iron. She fussed and picked until it fell just right and I sprayed it all down with Final Net. Then she fussed and picked some more and I wandered away to let her finish. After awhile she appeared in the kitchen with her purse on her shoulder.

Have you seen Harry, she asked?

Um, no,why?

He's supposed to pick me up.
 

I don't know. I haven't heard anything. I didn't think he was coming today.

He was supposed to come and now he's late.
 

I can't help but be curious, so I ask,

Where were you going?

Oh, you know, what's it called? A touch of frustration wrinkles her forehead.

That place. That place we always go.

Oh yeah, I answer, well as far as I know he isn't coming today. Maybe we'll hear from him later.
I'm sorry.

He's probably with that woman.

I'm shocked for a moment by that brow raising statement and ask,

What woman?

You know. That one. That floozy! He's probably off traipsing around having a grand old time with that tramp!

She flops on the kitchen chair, slapping her purse down, her brow furrowed and mouth set in an angry staright line.

Oh my. This is injustice. I feel it keenly in my heart. This is not fair. It is untrue. But I can't say what's true. I can't tell her why Harry will not be arriving. She is too fragile for this news. This is something she cannot handle at this point in her life. It isn't the right time. It will never be the right time. But I can't bring myself to cause her this pain. Harry would not be coming. Harry was dead.

My husband had come in the room and was listening.

What's wrong,? he asked her.

She started to cry. Harry was supposed to come get me. We were going out and now he's not coming and I got all dressed and ready to go for nothing.

I look at my husband, helpless, I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say.

He stood you up? he asked her.

Yes, she smacked her fist on the table. I was looking forward to it all week.

What a jerk, my husband exclaimed, telling you you were going out and then standing you up!

My eyes widened in shock. What on earth was he doing?

Yeah, you're right she replied angrily. He is a jerk. I bet he's with some other girl.

Seems to me you don't need a jerk like that, he said. There's plenty of other guys. Why should you care about going out with someone who would treat you that way. Forget him!

 I guess you're right, she sighed. But I really wanted to go.

Would you like to go out to the store with me in a little while, my kind husband asked my 80 year old mother, since you're already dressed?

She smiled, Sure, let's go!

Good, he smiled back, who needs Harry anyway?

 Puzzled, her face scrunched with confusion, she looked at him like he was nuts and asked,

Who the Hell is Harry?
 

Just one day in our life and one of the funny moments from the time we spent with my mother and Alzheimer's. My father, Harry, had been dead for seven years - and was never known to run around with floozies either. What he didn't know was that, for all her fussing, sometimes she would have a date with somebody else ; ) They never showed up either. Despite the  delusions  caused by her illness, she loved my father very much

My mother passed away in 2008 just two days before what would have been their 59th wedding anniversary.  I'm pretty sure he was there to pick her up : )

November is National Alzheimer's Disease Awareness Month.

For information or to help you can visit here: alz.org

Another great place for information is here: www.alzheimers.gov


Offer support however you can. Donate. Participate. Hug an Alzheimer's patient-even have a chat with them-it's an interesting place to visit ; ) And if you know a Caregiver please offer your support, and Hugs...and Chocolate....
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If I don't reply to comments right away, I didn't forget you! I'll be going out of town for a little while. I'll be able to read comments but may not be able to reply, if not, I'll catch you when I get back.
Don't forget me either...eat some blueberries or something...



© 2012 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

Life Is But A Dream

Sometimes we are given little gifts in this life.  Tiny stitches looped far apart are pulled together and the fabric of our lives gathers around us in a snug finished piece. A gift homemade with memories and still warm from the arms of a loved one,  pressed into our hand as we say goodbye as a token to remember them by.

My mother loved a sing along. My closest brother in age was nine years older than me and the brother that I lived with at home the longest. We were the ones who sang. A recurrent theme through my childhood was my mother asking us to sing for her and with her. And we did. From my earliest memories I can see her, mostly in the kitchen, dancing and singing away. Old songs, War songs, Children's songs, Silly songs most of all. When I was still very young, I remember her stopping and saying to me, "Come on, I'll teach you to sing a round." "Sing, Row Row Row Your Boat", she instructed. I began and shortly after she followed. It took me awhile to get it. But before I knew it we were singing a round and having a grand time. The first of many times we would do so. Any chance she got she would ask me to 'round' Row Your Boat, with her. No matter how old I was I never tired of hearing her repertoire and joining in too as we would happily

Row Row Row...


September 2008
She never had any idea who we were when we visited but she was always happy to see us. She was eighty years old. She would smile and chat nonsense with all of her social graces intact. She had come to the point where most of the time it was a string of words rather than actual sentences. But one day, when I came in she was sitting motionless in a chair. Lethargic. This was unusual. I braced myself for reaching the next level. It was just so sudden. Then the nurse called me over and told me she had been getting ready to contact us. Something was wrong. Physically. This was the cause of the change, not the Alzheimer's. After tests were done we found she was having internal bleeding from the colon. My mother had a "No Heroic Measures" Directive but the gastrointerologist said they would check it out. There was no cancer. A small tear. It was repaired. It went very well they said. No problem but they couldn't be sure it wouldn't happen again.  But when I visited her back at the nursing home the next day,  she was lying in bed and did not wake at all during my visit. She was so pale and still. You could barely see her breath rise and fall. Her arm was swollen. The skin stretched tight. She had developed a blood clot. She was being given blood thinner but we were told to be prepared. I realized then I might never see her up again. Might possibly never see her open her eyes. It could be over at any time. They told my brother he needed to sign some papers. Even with my mothers instructions already in place they wanted back up paperwork showing that the directives were understood by the family. I could tell he did not not like this job. All I could do was be there with him for support.

The next morning I met with my brother in the lobby. After he  finished the paperwork we climbed on the elevator to go check on our mom. At the end of the hall I entered the room, expecting to see my mother lying there, much like the day before. There was no one in the room. Panic immediately set in. I turned to my brother, "She's not here!" Where is our mother? We hurried down the hall to the nurses station with frightened thoughts flashing through my brain. Had it already happened? Did they forget to tell us? What did they do with our mom?

"Mrs. --?, said the attendant, she's right over there in the common room, we got her up today."

You What?

I turned and my eyes frantically searched the room. There she was. My brother and I looked at each other in confusion and disbelief. What the heck was going on here?  Our mother was dangerously ill.

 "Hey mom", we came to see you".  She seemed perfectly fine physically. There was no swelling visible in her arm at all. The clot was not there. I don't know who we were that day, but she was glad we came. Her bright blue eyes were shining and clear. Her smile quick. We did the usual, asking how she was, telling her what was going on with us and she answered politely even though she had no idea what we were talking about. Her hair was a mess. My mother was always extremely picky about her hair and I couldn't stand to see it that way, knowing how upset she would have been if she was aware of it. I  stood, pulling my brush out of my bag to try to smooth it down. She loved having her hair brushed and now she did as she always had, closing her eyes and leaning her head back to enjoy it.  My brother and I kept exchanging glances of bewilderment.
  This was an Alzheimer's unit and the elderly people who were still mobile began to congregate near the front of the room where a young woman with a camp counselor voice boomed out that it was time for everyone to gather around. My mother was distracted from our visit. It had been a very long time since I had seen the mother I loved and the woman who was my dear friend. She had been confused, sometimes incoherent, angry, in tears, like a child and serenely polite, but never my mom anymore.
  My brother and I whispered that it would be a good time to go. We both had kids to pick up from school soon. The camp counselor for the aged called out in a rousing tone, come on everyone, it's time for sing along! My mother looked toward the others lined up in their chairs ready to clap and sing.  Her eyes lit up and she smiled, " Oh Boy!" We told her, "I guess we will go now,  mom. You go have fun."  She turned to us her eyes alight, No, you don't have to go yet do you?  Come on! You sing too! I flashed through the years to our old kitchen. "Come on. You sing too."  My brother and I shrugged and sat back down. Just like a preschool class the gray haired children around us clapped their hands and raised their voices. Children's songs. They all still knew the words. "Okay, it's time for Row Your Boat" their leader cried.
I watched my brother, the one who all our lives had been lively and musical and full of fun. I watched him change from the posture of stress and sadness, and grin. My mother sang, she tapped her feet. We laughed. We sang. Loud and clear we joined the boisterous choir rowing in our chairs. We rowed along our mirth and our mothers joy and memories and miracles.

Merrily Merrily Merrily......

It was time to go. "You have to go now?" my mother asked politely but cheerfully as we rose. "Yes. Do you want to move up closer to the others?"  "No. I'm fine here."  Hugs and kisses. I love you. I love you. I love you too. I will see you soon. She forgot we were there before we even reached the end of the room. We got on the elevator and as we waited for the doors to close, I turned to watch my mother. Framed in the opening, she sat erect in her straight back chair. For a moment she frowned,  rubbing her hands together nervously. She looked lost. I felt as strong a pull as I have ever felt in my life. I want to go back. I want to stay. I want my mother. The doors began to close and I almost reached to push the button and get off again but at that moment the next song began and she perked up with a smile. As the doors closed over my view she once again began to sing along. I decided to let it be. We had a nice afternoon.  And my children would be waiting soon, for their mother.
 It had been a very long time since the three of us sang together. I have no clear memory of how the room around us looked. It was full of people who are a background blur. I hear the voices. Like when we were children, our world in that hour revolved around our mother. We sang with our mother that day. We had a good time with her.  Best of all, so did she.

When we reached the parking lot my brother and I were fit to be tied. She was doing great! We were totally confused. We could not believe what had just happened. He would need to call the doctors and see what was going on. "I don't know what to do," he said. Our sister had moved to England and had already purchased her plane tickets to hurry home and see our mom.  "I don't think she can get a refund, he said, and I don't know whether she should still come back now or wait." I didn't know either. But it looked like maybe we had all been granted a reprieve. We had certainly been granted a lovely visit with mom.  My sister decided to come home anyway in the end. That was good. I was glad she did. Perhaps my mother could sense somehow that all of her children were close by. Because in the middle of the next night, shortly after my sisters plane landed , with barely a ripple my mother peacefully drifted away in her dreams.

Gently down the stream.


© 2011 All Rights Reserved

A Note From My Sister

This is a guest post written by my Big Sister. We are recognizing National Alzheimer's Disease Awareness Month here at Mom of the Perpetually Grounded. My sister took on living with my mom after my father passed away and was the closest witness to her decline for several years. She took on this job while maintaining a career as a police detective. Two of the most stressful jobs on the face of the earth.
 She has done Tremendous work in both jobs.

So I bring you: The Most Awesome Big Sister;  the Mighty Ms.K. (the one with the really cool suede boots)

In Memory of our Mom

I was the strong one and the one with no husband, or children. The one who helped when Daddy died, the one who took you back into my life after living alone for so many years. The last couple of years were the hardest….and I broke.

I was the nice stranger who cared for you, I was your sister you grew up with, but somehow never your daughter. You would look at me with those blue eyes and study my face, looking for some clue of who I was, looking for someone or something familiar. Tears would well up in your eyes as you realized you did not know where you were, or when, or how you were got there. Today it was 1942 and you were looking for your mom. Ten minutes later, it was 1983 and you were looking for my Daddy. It was then 1968 and you were looking for Johnny, “where is he, he should be home by now from school”.

We had more visitors from deceased family members than the ones who were living. They were not able to cope with what had happen to you. Alzheimer's. 8 years of sometimes slow, sometimes rapid decline. Then you would just sit and your eyes told me you were now somewhere else, another time and place I did not know. You no longer played the piano, playing the same song over and over again. You could not read a book, you could not even have a conversation anymore that made any sense.

Then sometimes, suddenly like a breeze across my face, you would look at me, know who I was and seemed to say…..I am still in here somewhere, I love you, thank you for still being here with me. Then just as suddenly you were gone again.

You were like a child. You would get so scared. I would hold you while you cried and it made me cry. I tried to make you feel safe. All the sleepless nights, finding you dressed, packed and ready to go, the searches for people who were no longer with us. The terror of suddenly finding yourself in a place and time you did not recognize.

I did as much as I could, but I was getting broken and I had to let you go. It broke my heart to leave you where they could care of you in ways I could not do any more. You died 4 months later.

I still grieve you. I miss you.

If you are a caregiver to a parent or family member with Alzheimers…not matter how strong you are, you can not do it alone. Don’t believe that you will be able to. You will break.

To the Mom of the Perpetually Grounded……Thank you for helping me get fixed again. I love you.



Luv Ya Back Mighty Ms. K.
If you are a Caregiver for an Alzheimers's patient you can visit alz.org to take the Caregiver Stress Check or find Caregiver Support  in your area.


© 2010 All Rights Reserved

Note to Self....

There is no guarantee either way. It might happen. It might not.

Just in case it happens someday..

This is you. These are your babies beyond the scrapbooks. These are the words that you did not always speak but chose to share. This is who you were and those you love at this period of time. I hope you are not desperately searching for them without seeing them in front of your eyes. Your parents are not here. It is most likely your brothers and sisters are gone too. Don't worry, you will see them soon.
Everyone is right, you shouldn't be driving. Those are your pills and you are supposed to take them. Take your shower and listen to them. They love you.

Your mother and your grandmother are not there now. But they were where you are now. Confused. A little lost. Sometimes really pissed off. 

Your grandmothers cheek was like a silk cased feather pillow, dusted with powdered sugar when you rested against it. She used Ponds her whole life. Her voice was a river you floated along in a daydream as a child and you liked the way it sounded when she voiced the name of her sister so much that you named your youngest child the same so that you would continue to hear the voice. When she was young she was a flapper! She was really something. You weren't her favorite. She liked the brown eyed cousins best but that was ok. She lived with them and helped raise them. When this happened to her she had hallucinations of bugs. She would ask people if they could see them.  Her grandmother had spoke German to her as a small child and she had forgotten most of it. One night she woke your uncle's family in the middle of the night yelling at them in fluent German. The mind is a very strange thing. Then she began to wander away from home. She got lost. They had no choice.
You saw what it did to your mom when this happened to your grandmother. You watched as she worked all day and then rushed to the nursing home almost every night. The attendants were washing your grandmothers face with soap. The silk was turning to linen. Coarse and wrinkled, when it began to peel your mother cried. She bought Ponds and would sit on the edge of the bed. Gently, lovingly rubbing the cream into your grandmothers face. Desperately trying to save ....something. Some part of her mother.

Your mother had more lines in her face but not a lot. She took some care. She loved to keep busy. Working, volunteering,  just going somewhere. She was your friend. At first it was ok when it began to happen. You could tell her your favorite stories over and over and she never tired of them.  Everyone joked the first time she put bologna in the freezer and then couldn't find it. It was years before these episodes began to show a consistent pattern. Long before it was obvious she once called, angry at your father because he had given away a special box. Did you have it? No, you don't remember ever seeing it. He just told her she was wrong. He didn't point out that it never existed. He just let her rant it out. After he was gone the problems at work became apparent. This new boss was undermining her. Plotting against her. She should retire. Then she began  searching for the missing little boy. Where did he go? You felt sad because you thought she was missing your brother. He had been a grown man but he was her boy. She knew someone was missing that should not be. More people became missing. Ones who were long gone and the ones in front of her face.
The dead were waited for patiently, with purse in her lap. The family in front of her face, kind strangers. She enjoyed her visit very much but was ready to go home now. My husband and kids are waiting for me. Have you seen my mother?

You saw what it did to all of you when this happened to your mom.

So just in case
you are waiting for your mom right now, just relax. There will be time for that before you know it. Your face will have the most lines. It already does. You did not have the most difficult life. You stayed out in the sun too much. Dummy. Is there a cute old guy around? I bet he'll kiss you if you ask.
Your husband and children have said that if it happens they will keep you home and take care of you. You told them to please put you in a nice facility. This is a personal choice.  You never want to be that kind of burden. You never want your grandchildren to remember a person who was not aware of their love. They can explain it to them all day long. It does not stop the pain.

Read. If you can't remember it is alright. You won't notice the difference.

Feel free to burst into song in public. I insist on it.

© 2010 All Rights Reserved



November is National Alzheimer's Disease Awareness Month.
Here are some ways you can help.
Visit the Alzheimer's Association Website
Donate
Advocate
Join or start a Memory Walk  in your area.
Or read for more information on Alzheimer's Disease and ways to help further the search for a cure.
The memory you save may be your own....or possibly mine ; )

Equally Important:
If you know someone who is a Caregiver for a loved one with Alzheimer's, Reach Out. Support. Listen.