Bad Day

When I got to her apartment, she was in bed and seemed to be sound asleep.  I poured nuts into the bowl and then sat down for a bit to read and see if she woke up.  She woke up, actually, with a start, sat up and couldn't find me when I told her hello (she couldn't figure out she should look behind her).

It was one of her bad days.  I have seen her more agitated, so it wasn't as bad as it could be, but she said all of her insides were shaking, she didn't want to leave the apartment because she was afraid she'd do something wrong, and things just kept spinning around and around in her head.  (She's been saying this, off and on, for years, so it was nothing new.)

She said people would tell her to do one thing and then someone else would tell her to do something else and she didn't know what to do at all.  Well, of course, nobody was telling her to do anything, but in her head  they were.

She finally decided what she had to do was to sit and be quiet and see if she could get the shaking to stop.

I tried to get her to try some deep breathing, but didn't really think that would work.  She was able to follow the direction to take a long slow breath in and relax but she said that when she took the deep breath all the things whirling around in her head got worse.

I didn't want to leave her, but couldn't do anything to help her.  She finally decided that maybe if she got into bed and slept things would be better.  As it was after 4:30, I decided I would leave and let the aids know to check on her.

When I kissed her goodbye she asked when I would be back.  I didn't think she could handle "in 6 days" so I told her "a couple of days" and she got this look of panic on her face and asked what she was going to do without me.  Just the guilt I needed. 

I talked with one of the aids and then I sent an e-mail to Jen, the head of the memory care unit, to let her know how things were, that I would be gone for 6 days, that Ned would stop by to see her, and if need be, they could call my cell phone and I could be home in about 9 hours.

I'm hoping they won't need to call me.  And I can't even call HER because if she's still agitated, I don't want to make it worse.

Dammit.

Getting Lost

I went to Atria earlier in the day.  She was in the community room at a sing-along  She now greets me as if I am along lost relative whom she has not seen years.  She usually gives a gasp and then says "When did YOU get here?  I didn't know you were coming."  I think in that moment she thinks I'm one of her sisters, but as we talk she finally seems to know I'm her daughter (though at one point she asked me "What am I?  Your sister? your brother? your mother?"  

She complimented me on the shirt I was wearing, which has a design with zebras on it.  When I pointed that out she looked confused and when I said they were horses with stripes, she told me I was the smart one and she didn't know about things like that.

She went to the bathroom while I was there and got lost coming out of the room, taking the wrong door and ending up in the hallway, barefoot.  One of the aides brought her back, surprised to find me there. My mother had already forgotten that I was waiting for her.

But I stayed an hour and, all things considered, it was a decent visit  It's been a long time since she's had either an anxiety attack or has fainted and I'm very pleased about that.

The Long Goodbye

I went to Atria today.  My mother was thrilled because she hasn't seen me in a year.

Comments like this make me feel more comfortable going less and less often because to her it's either today or a year ago or a year from now. 

I couldn't find her when I got to the memory unit and one of the kind aides said she would go and find her for me.

To my amazement she was outside!!!!!!  This may be the first time she has gone out of the building on her own (of course, I don't know if someone took her outside or not).  Today was the first really comfortable day we've had (75⁰) and a really lovely day, so I'm glad she was able to get out and enjoy it.

When the aide brought her in to her apartment, she didn't know me, but quickly figured out who I was, but I don't know if she thought I was her daughter or her sister.  Possibly both during the hour I was there.  At one point she talked about Walt ("what's the name of that guy you're married to?") and our kids, but then at one point she said "Mom is doing pretty good these days, isn't she?" and she I looked perplexed she said "Mom.  Our Mother" so I think at that moment, she thought I was her sister.  She also asked how Peach's mother Marge was (Marge died many years ago).

Steve Schalchlin's friend wrote a song about Alzheimers called "The Long Goodbye" and that's what it is...watching little bits and pieces fade away slowly.

If there is anything to be thankful for it's that she hasn't a clue what is happening in the world.  In fact, when I told her abut the Mexico earthquake she asked "was she working at the time?"  I never expected her to understand about the earthquake, but sometimes it's good to have something other than her age, and the weather to talk about, even if she doesn't understand it.