In spite of my depression of last night, I still
presented myself to our local polling place bright and early this morning. Miracles
can happen, right? I knew it was a lost cause, but I think in all of my voting life
I have only not voted once or at most twice. It's what Americans do.
Or at least those of us who do vote. I often wonder what this country
would be like if we were like Australia, whose citizens are required to vote (or
be fined). What if we had 90% turnout instead of 40% or below?
I came home. Walt went to San Francisco to see Tosca
and I anticipated watching election returns, but at 4 p.m. I turned on MSNBC and within 2
minutes found out both Mitch McConnell and Lindsey Graham had been reelected and I was so
incredibly depressed I spent the rest of the night watching Criminal Minds reruns
I've seen dozens of times. Somehow serial killers and rapists were more appealing to
me than watching the Republicans trample what little hope I had left.
There was a reason for voting early -- I was going to take my mother
to Kaiser to get her flu shot and a blood test her doctor had requested and I wanted an
early start. It was another of "those" days. She apologized for
feeling "confused" today (why is this day different from other days?)
First there was the now frustratingly familiar Search For the Kaiser
Card. She always goes to find it, can't find her purse, I tell her where her purse
is, she searches her wallet, can't find the card, I tell her where it is in the purse
itself. She can't find it. I take her purse and show her where it is.
She is relieved.
Then we go to the car. In the car she says "now I have to
have my Kaiser card, right?" and the fruitless search begins again until I take the
purse from her and show her where the card is again.
This time we had a side trip first, to a jeweler to get a new battery
put in her watch. She has been lost without the watch, though she doesn't really
need it, but she's worn it all of her life, so I found a parking place near the jeweler
and we went in. We talked about the watch and the need to have it back by Friday (or
I couldn't pick it up for a month). All the while I'm talking with the clerk, my
mother is looking in her purse for her Kaiser card.
While we are there, I ask about her wedding ring. She has been
complaining about it for a year. It's much too tight and she can neither get it off
or turn it on her finger. She can no longer bend her finger because the ring is
cutting off the circulation. I have been offering for a year to take her in to have
it cut off and resized, but after I finally have her convinced, she decides she wants to
wait awhile.
But we were there and the jeweler looked at the finger and
said the ring needed to be cut off. My mother said that was funny because she
never even noticed that it was too tight. She wanted to wait and have it done
after I got back from Iowa, but it had taken me a year to get her there and we were going
to have it done NOW. Fortunately, she does respond to things like that positively.
They promised me the ring could be resized and picked up on Friday
too, but when they got it off, the dent in her finger was so deep the jeweler said there
was no way he could size her finger and he wouldn't size a different finger. She has
to massage cream into her finger while I'm in Iowa and then go back in December to get the
finger sized so they can enlarge the ring.
Next we went to Kaiser and she could not, of course, remember why.
When we got in the building she didn't have a clue where she was or why she was
there. But we got our flu shots and I took her to the lab for her blood test.
Before we left the testing room, I checked to make sure she had her Kaiser card,
which she did.
We got in the car and head to
Applebees for lunch. I decided it would be nice to take her somewhere other than
Atria and she used to eat at Applebees frequently with a friend of hers. When we
looked at the menu, it was immediately apparent to me that there was nothing there that
would not be too much for her, so I ordered an appetizer platter for us to share that that
was an excellent decision. Good me.
When the waitress was ready to give us the check, my mother went for
her credit card (which is in the same pouch as the Kaiser card) and could not find it.
It had disappeared. We both looked through her wallet and purse three times
and it was not there. She thought maybe she could pay the bill with her Social
Security Card. I paid the bill.
I KNEW we had the card in the blood-letting room at Kaiser because I saw
it. We went out to the car to see if she had put it in the pocket of her jacket (no)
or if it had fallen on the floor again (no). I took the purse from her one more time
and found a zippered pouch I had not checked before. It's part of the design on the
front or her purse and I've never seen anything there. But there was the pouch with
the two cards.
I cannot tell you how many times she was confused and how many times
she kept telling me she hated being dependent on people because she had always prided
herself on her independence.
That's when I used the "D" word. I have always talked
about her "memory problems" but have never actually said "dementia."
I told her she had dementia, like her mother (not Alzheimers like her sister) and
talked about what the dementia does, that it's not treatable, and that it was time for her
to accept that she has this condition and just let people who love her take care of her.
I don't know why I was afraid to use the "D" word. I
know that she is divorced from her emotional reactions to things (like news of Peach's
cancer), so why did I think she would be upset to hear me talk about her having dementia?
She didn't bat an eye. But the word has been spoken and I can now feel
comfortable saying "dementia" around her. (Of course she won't remember!)
On the way home she said, as she always says when in the car,
"If you let me out here I wouldn't have a clue where I was or who I should talk to or
what I should do." I tried to put myself inside her brain and try to figure out
how scary it was for her to have no ability to recognize landmarks or to have a clue where
she was at any time. She can finally recognize the driveway to Atria, but we have to
be turning into it before she recognizes it.
But it did help me to try to feel what she must be feeling in her
head. I need to do that more often because when I do it helps me to be more
patient with her.
3 comments:
It is pretty shitty, isn't it! Commiserating hugs headed your way.
Posts like this are why I like to read blogs. Thank you for giving us a glimpse into your mom's life and your time with her.
Now, to prove I'm not a robot with tears in my eyes.
I remember living in Orange County Calif when John a Birch Society was running amuck. There will always be idiots. The world still needs our type of thoughtful people for balance.
Warm hugs to you
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