One of "The Girls"

It was a fun day.  It started out going to get my mother.  Naturally she wasn't there because naturally she had forgotten we were going to San Rafael for lunch.  "Why didn't you TELL me," she wailed when I found her eating waffles in the dining room.  Doesn't matter that the last thing I said to her last night was that I would pick her up at 10, that it has been written on her calendar for two weeks, or that I have reminded her we were going every single day for the past week.  But that didn't surprise me.  I'm used to it now.
 

But what did surprise me--and I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing.  She asked, again, who would be there and why were we going.  When I said that it was to celebrate my birthday, she was angry with herself for not remembering.  Now this surprised me because I've been talking about my birthday in conjunction with this lunch for two or three weeks and she has never batted an eyelash.  I could just as easily be telling her that I was going to do a load of laundry.

But today she fixated on it.  How could she have forgotten her own daughter's birthday?  She so fixated on it that for about the first twenty minutes of our drive to San Rafael she kept saying over and over again that she has noticed she forgets things now and that maybe she should see a doctor.  That almost caused me to run off the road.  My mother could be dying and I'd still have to force her to go to a doctor, but for her to suggest it was unheard of.  Of course that was forgotten almost immediately, but I don't know if her fixation was a sign that today was a good memory day, or that all the other things she forgot was a sign that it was a bad memory day.  I think I'll just think of it as...a day.

I really enjoy getting together with these women, and so honored that Marian now considers me "one of the group."

Around the table from the left:  Cinnie, my mother, me, Paula, Phyllis, Marian

We met at Arriverderci Restaurant again.  It's where we have been three times before.  Jeff was sick, so he wasn't able to make it.

Three of the women had veal piccata; my mother and I both ordered linguini with clams, which was fabulous.

Neither of us could finish our meal and I made a big mistake.  My mother said she would take it home and have it for dinner.  I told her she would put it in her refrigerator and it would sit there until it went bad and said I wanted to take it home for Walt.  She was very huffy about that.  I realized I should have said nothing because the second she got in the car she would have forgotten about it anyway.

But after a minor bit of unpleasantness, which I could have avoided, she seemed to suddenly see the leftovers again for the first time and asked what would happen to them.  I said "if you want to take them home, that's fine; if you don't, I'll take them to Walt," and she told me she didn't want them and that they were Walt's.

Then she saw the dessert menu sitting on the table and asked if we were there to have lunch and if we had ordered yet.  I told her we had already eaten.

The "girls" all gave me birthday cards and the waiter arrived with a big piece of tiramisu with a candle in it, which we all shared.

Some of the best tiramisu I've tasted.  So glad I chose this restaurant today!

On the ride home, I decided I just couldn't put up with another hour and a half of answering the same questions over and over and over again.  I only had 3 hours of sleep the night before and my patience was starting to wear thin.  But I have this playlist of music from the 40s that I made for her a few years ago.  I put it on and by golly she sang all the words to every single song.  Music memory sticks around longer than just about anything, I have heard.  She loved it, and I enjoyed singing along with her and not having to answer "are we coming into Sacramento?" more than three or four times.

There was a new wrinkle coming home this time.  From the time we entered Davis she began to be worried that she wouldn't be able to find her apartment.  That was a first.  She asked if I wanted to come in with her but I told her I was so sleepy and really wanted to get home and take a nap.  She asked me at least four times what her apartment number was and each time I said "Apartment 109...the door with 'Mildred Rynders' written next to it."  She was still nervous when she got out of the car, but I haven't had a panicked call, so I am assuming she was able to find the door she has been finding at least twice a day for the last two years.

Tomorrow I'll go over and pick up her dirty laundry and see how she's feeling.  She felt extremely unsettled all day because she was out of the house, but I notice that the longer we stay with the group the more relaxed she becomes and the better her memory is.  My god, someone asked her "do you remember so-and-so" and I expected her to say "yes" (she'll never admit she doesn't remember), but not only did she remember the woman, but even said something that she remembered about her!  That was very exciting.  

I cling to little brief moments like that.

Hearts and Flowers

I couldn't let Valentine's day go for my mother, so I was off early in the morning to buy flowers to take to atria.  
 

Nugget market was doing a big business in flowers, so big they had even set up a stand outside and I noticed that a girl kept bringing in carts of flowers, so I guess they were selling like hotcakes.

I always notice the price of flowers when I'm in the store and it seemed that these had definitely been jacked up for the holiday!  It was difficult to find a bouquet that was under $10, but I did.  Valentine's day is not cheap, even if you aren't buying diamonds or automobiles!

Then I decided to add some candy to the flowers, and the table with all the candy on it was a jumble and it was difficult to tell how much anything cost, but I chose a tiny bag with red chocolate hearts in it, ignoring the heart shaped boxes, which seemed to be much more expensive.  The little bag had no price on it and I was shocked when I looked at my grocery tag in the car afterwards -- I hadn't looked at it when they were ringing me up -- to find out that this little bag cost $13.  But owell.  It was for my mother and I wanted to make her smile on Valentine's day.

Next I looked for a card and was unable to find a card under $6.  They are clever now, some of these companies.  Instead of just selling you a card,  they package it in a cellophane pouch so it looks richer and, of course the price is higher.  I could have gone to a different store where I knew that there would be non-cellophaned cards, but what the heck, I was there.  I bought a "Mom" card.

I drove to Atria and she was thrilled with the flowers, and barely looked at the candy and the card.  I had to remind her they were there...and I had to remind her three times that I had brought a card, which she finally opened.  Her attitude was "ho hum...a card? candy? Whatever"  But she did love the flowers.

We went to lunch at the dining room, which was all tarted up with balloons.

Lunch was a delicious chicken pot pie, which was a far cry from the last time I ate there, when the "Captain's platter," consisting of "shrimp, fish, and clams" was inedible. Everything was barely warm, and so hard you could barely chew it.  But the pot pie was delicious.

While we were eating, a barbershop quartet circled the room and serenaded everyone.

I had to kind of smile because I remember them from last year, when it seemed they had more volume and were on tune more of the time.  They, like the residents, are getting older.

My mother seemed to have little interest in the music, but did tell me several times about how many balloons there were (sometimes she couldn't remember the word "balloon" and said either "balls" or "bubbles.") and what a lot of work it must have been for someone to blow them all up, and how much work it was going to be to untie them all and deflate them so they could use them again next year.

While we were eating, two little girls, Sophie and Bella, along with their father, came around to every table, carrying a paper bag and gave everybody in the dining room little Valentine's day cards.  That was very cute.

Jeri had sent a text video of the snow in Boston today.  Some guys were removing snow from the roof of their house, almost completely covering her truck in the process.  The video, taken from inside their flat, shows the snow falling off the roof past the window--and was pretty impressive.  I decided to send back a video right after I had shown it to my mother.  I turned on the video and asked her what she thought of all that snow and she seemed very flustered and then said it was "very cute" and what cute girls the granddaughters were.  It's probably just as well that for some reason the audio on my video didn't work.

A Brief Visit

I went to Atria today.  I didn't want to go for lunch, so waited until 12:30 and saw that my mother was at a table, apparently talking to someone.  I felt like I used to when Tom started kindergarten and cried every morning when I dropped him off.  I would leave him, turn my back and walk away, but then find a place across the street where he couldn't see me, but I could watch him...and then the crossing guard would let me know later how he had done during the day.

Seeing my mother interacting with women at her table made me feel as hopeful as I felt when we were looking for places for her to move and I watched groups of women talking and laughing together over lunch.  She needs to interact with others and today she did that.  Of course for all I know she does it every day, but I hadn't really witnessed it before, since I'm always with her.

Anyway, I had come to refill her pill holder.  I normally bring her new set of pills over the weekend, but with the combination of pouring rain on Friday and not having a car Saturday or Sunday it was today before I could get them to her.  Fortunately, nothing she takes is keeping her alive, so missing a day isn't a big deal.

We visited for about half an hour, but I had a coughing fit (first one I'd had today, I think...I am much better) and decided to cut the visit short.

Well, at least it's short

My mother has had her hair cut, and got a perm today.  She has been looking long and shaggy, like an old lady in a rest home, and I was surprised to read in one of my old entries that almost exactly a year ago, I was making the same complaint.  

I have been pushing her to get her hair cut and she keeps "thinking about it" while the hair grows longer and stringier.  I finally realized that this is something else she is incapable of doing.  The idea of (a) remembering the hairdresser, (b) finding the phone number, and (c) making the call was completely beyond her ability, so I made an appointment for her last week.

This morning she called in a panic.  "Someone" had called her--she didn't know who--to ask her about something--she didn't remember what--and could I return the call and take care of it for her. 

I figured it was beautician Lucy calling to remind her about her appointment, and it was.  She wanted to make it earlier, so I went to Atria for lunch and then took her upstairs to the salon.  I realized again that this trip upstairs to find the salon is completely beyond her ability to navigate.  She didn't even recognize the elevator and swore she'd never been in it.

This wasn't a bad memory day, it was a terrible memory day. She couldn't remember anything, and even when we got home from the salon, it took her a few minutes to recognize her own apartment, but then she noticed familiar things and "guessed" it was her place.  I think "having something to do" just completely threw her for a loop.

But it got done.

When she had a haircut and a perm last time, this is how she looked...

and that was what I was expecting to see when I picked her up.  I spent the 2 hours she was at the salon in her apartment and when I got to Lucy's, my mother was sitting in a chair, bent over, with her head in her hands.  I'm not sure why, whether it was fear that I wouldn't come to get her (which it may well have been), or if she had looked at herself in the mirror.

This is the before and after:

She looks better, that's for sure, but she looks like she got her finger stuck in an electric socket...or like an old lady in a rest home that just had a bad perm.  If it had been me I would have been very upset, but she seems OK with it...and if she can't recognize her own apartment, it's probably a good thing she can't really see how bad her hair looks.  For this she paid $75.  She wuz robbed!

Lunch

We got to Arriverderci restaurant early.  This was the place where we celebrated my mother's birthday back in September, though then we were outside in the sun.  No outside on this cool day.

Jeff, the "kid" in the group (he's only 50) was the last to arrive and I asked him about his new goatee.

He explained that he had been sick last week and only had enough energy to grow hair.  He said he didn't think it was going to last long.

As usual, we had a wonderful meal, lots of laughs and my mother came alive again (though it doesn't look like it in this picture!)

The lunch was for Paula's birthday.  She was turning 91.  I had bought a card for my mother and me to sign but she never did get it straight who was having a birthday and wished Jeff a happy birthday several times.

The group decided we need to get together again next month to celebrate my birthday.

I really enjoy these people and am happy to meet with them.  It also gives my mother much-needed socialization, which she does not allow herself at Atria.

When it was time to leave, there were hugs all around, and a special hug for Jeff, who is my mother's favorite. As much as she enjoys her female friends, she's just not happy without a man to fuss over.

When I was paying the bill, my mother walked outside with the other women and I was so worried about her getting lost that I forgot to leave a tip and the waiter had to run after me.  I was embarrassed... because he had been a nice, attentive waiter!

We were both tired on the way home.  I was fighting sleep, so pulled off in a parking lot and put on a playlist of music I had made when we took my mother on a long drive to visit her family home many years ago.  It's all music of the 40s and 50s, and by golly she sang all the words to all the songs...some things she remembers!

My Secret Wish

I suppose it's not such a "secret" wish if I'm going to write about it, but here it is.

I am hoping my mother goes to sleep tonight...and just doesn't wake up.  I know that's a terrible thing to say, but we had the very best lunch ever today.  

The visit started out the same as always, telling me she was feeling disoriented and that she hates it when she occasionally has days like that (she doesn't realize that she tells me that every day), that she feels old, that her brain isn't working, etc.

I was happy to see that she seems to be caught up on her meds.  I was afraid that she had forgotten to take them every day.

While we were walking to lunch, something I said struck her as funny and she started giggling.  She was in a giddy mood all through lunch and everything made her laugh.  It was just a delight.  A lot of times she told me things that didn't make any sense, but she thought it hilarious and giggled.  She talked about men and sex and food and being old, and losing her mind, and other people in the dining room, and said that even her teeth don't work any more (said she puts food in her mouth and she forgets what she's supposed to do with it). Everything made her giggle and I was so happy to share her giddiness.

When we got back to the apartment, she sunk into her chair again and the depression was back, but they can't take away that fun luncheon.  I realize that what I need to do is just take these gems of days as they come, enjoy them to the fullest, and let them sustain me when we talk for the thousandth time about living to hunnert or why she's the last of her family still alive.

As I left, she threw her arms around me, hugged me tight and told me she loved me.

But if there is a kind, compassionate God, my mother will just quietly pass out of this life tonight and take those giggles with her to heaven.

Pills

Today she called me and I didn't hear the phone so it was 2 hours later when I called back.  By then, of course, she had forgotten why she called, but thought it had something to do with pills I was supposed to bring her.  I told her I brought her pills two days ago and asked her to check on them.  She didn't know where I put them (though they have been in the same place ever since she moved to Atria--she didn't remember having to take pills).  She finally found them and I asked her to read me the letter that was on top of the next closed box.  She didn't understand what I meant but after a long series of descriptions from me, she finally told me that her box still had the T, F, S boxes unopened, which means she has not taken her pills for 3 days.  Fortunately none of those pills are keeping her alive, just keeping her healthier.