A week or so ago, I wrote that I was initially disappointed that my
renewal of my driver's license went so smoothly when I had expected to have lots of
problems that I could write about. My photos seemed to be OK, I passed my written test and
all looked like it would go without problem.
Then, however, things went wrong when the paperwork I had so
carefully gotten from my doctor, proving that I could drive without the sight in one eye,
went kablooie and after a conference among four different employees, they said I had to
take a behind the wheel test. Couldn't be done that day, so I made an appointment
for the following day, forgetting we were flying to Seattle. Then there was all the
problems with setting up another appointment.
But this was the day! I got the necessary paperwork together,
angry to discover I had inadvertently thrown away my temporary license in a rare moment of
cleaning out my purse without examining all the loose papers I was tossing into the
garbage.
I got to DMV early to take care of that little problem,
which I was assured was no trouble at all.
Then the clerk asked for the doctor's note. I told her that the
clerk from last week had kept it.
"She didn't give you a copy?" she asked. It had never
occurred to me to ask for one. Would the DMV make a mistake?
Well...yes. Apparently when they pick up the paperwork they
just toss anything that is not an official DMV form, I was told, and so they had tossed
out the paperwork that I had gone to Kaiser and had an eye exam to get so I wouldn't have
to have a behind the wheel driver's test.
Oh, the clerk apologized profusely and told me over and over that it
was their fault, but now that I was there they could not allow me behind the
wheel of the car for my test unless I had the paper they threw away.
Never mind that I had driven there, would drive home, and then would
have to drive to Sacramento to get a replacement for the paper they had thrown away.
I came home and sent a note to my eye doctor entitled "I hate
the DMV." She responded within two hours and told me she would have her nurse
fill out another form for me and I could pick it up tomorrow at the front desk; I would
not have to see her again. Well, that was easy--just a quick hour in the
car to get the paper the DMV threw away.
I now have another behind the wheel test on Friday at 8 a.m.
Let's see how they can screw it up this time...
* * *
In the afternoon, I drove over to Atria to visit my mother. I
had actually tried to visit her on my way home from the DMV, but there was not a parking
place to be had for love or money. I'm almost tempted to pay rent on a parking slot
so I know there will always be one for me, but with my luck, someone else would use it and
I'd still not have a parking space.
There was no answer when I knocked on her door, but I could hear her
coughing, with that cough she doesn't have. I used my key and she was in the
bathroom. She coughed all the way through her finishing up and she looked drawn but,
despite her appearance, she actually seemed better. I couldn't hear gunk in her
lungs any more and, remembering that everyone thinks I'm at death's door when I have my
coughing months, I decided the thing to do was to just keep an eye on her and make sure it
doesn't get any worse. I told her she should drink lots of water, to which she says
"uh-huh" and I know she won't do. I also decided that if she doesn't have
pneumonia, which I don't think she does (based on a better sounding cough and no fever),
all the doctor could do would be to prescribe some medication that she won't take and she
very definitely does NOT want to see a doctor, so why bother.
She wasn't very "with it" today. She told me three
times about my cousin Niecie bringing plants and how she didn't know why she brought them
and how they had died in the frost because even though I told her it was going to freeze,
there was no way she could have known they were going to freeze and now Niecie had to come
and take back all of her pots. She seems to blame Niecie for the plants dying because she
should have known better than to put them there in the first place. I suggested that after
Niecie removes the pots that we get some artificial plants to put out there and she said
she doesn't want any plants. She's sick of plants. Never in my life did I ever think I
would hear my plant-loving mother say those words.
But it is part of her giving up on life. I realize, now, that
when she arrived at Atria, she figured it was to die and with dementia as an excuse
(though she doesn't realize she has dementia), she has given up on everything that she
used to be interested in. She never missed Sunday Mass and when Walt offered to take
her to mass each week, she declined. When I told her a priest came to Atria to give
communion each week to those who couldn't make it to church, she wasn't interested in that
either. She used to watch all sorts of sports, but now only seems interested in sports if
Ed comes to watch something with her. She still reads the newspaper, but doesn't
remember what she reads. I don't know if she watches much TV.
She told me today that she doesn't have a clue what the temperature
is outside and when I pointed out that she could open the sliding glass door that was
about 2" from her hand, she said she didn't want to be bothered to do that.
She asked me several times today how many kids Tom has and what are
their names and how old they are. When I showed her a picture of Lacie she
asked me if that was the oldest one, and then asked what the oldest one's name was and how
old she is.
Princess Lacie
She also says she hasn't seen Tom in months, though he was just there
(with the family) a little over a month ago. I realize that she has no concept of
time any more, but it just...hurts...that she can't remember her great grandchildren.
I've been reminding her for a month to get her hair cut and she keeps
saying she will do it "tomorrow," but she never does. It's longer than it
has ever been and she doesn't seem to care that she is starting to look like the
stereotypical old lady in a rest home. I notice that she hasn't worn makeup in some
time. She was always so proud of her appearance. The only pride she seems to
have left is that she doesn't need a walker, though she does and doesn't
understand that, but complains when we get halfway down her hall that her back is killing
her, when leaning on a walker would ease the pain. She won't consider a walker, she
won't take a pain pill. She'd rather just sit and stare into space. But by God
she doesn't need a walker and if she ever does, will I please kill her?
I go along with it all and try not to get upset, but when I come
home, I realize that I am upset and the only thing I can do is to play whatever
game I have to to keep her happy. But at home I can let go and be upset because the
woman who was my mother is gone. I am lucky that she is as good as she is, I realize, when
there are visitors at Atria whose loved one doesn't know who they are, or who look like
zombies in the dining room.
Tonight I am doing her laundry and then we will go through that
frustration when I try to bring her clothes back to her tomorrow... God, I hope she
remembers them this time! I think I'm going to start taking a photo of her every
time she wears something I don't have a picture of her in and then when she tries to throw
her clothes away, I will have a collection of photos of her wearing each of those pieces
of clothing that she says she has never seen before.
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