An Elephant Never Forgets

Today ended up being completely different from what I anticipated.  The plan was to take my mother to lunch with her friends in San Rafael again, to celebrate another birthday.  To my amazement when I called to make sure she was awake she remembered that we were supposed to go out, but she was not feeling well...said she "ached all over" and that she didn't feel like going anywhere.

Of course I worried about her all day, but when I called in the afternoon, she felt just fine and didn't remember feeling bad in the morning.  The woman is a constant enigma.  I admit that the thought crossed my mind this morning that she might have claimed illness because she didn't want to go to lunch, but we'll never know.

Oooo...look at THAT

The other day someone on Facebook posted some photos of wildflowers he had seen about a half hour's drive from here.  I am a sucker for the purple lupine and orange poppies that bloom on California hills in years with sufficient rainfall.  Knowing how much she loves nature, I wanted to take my mother to see them.

I very nearly did NOT take her.  When we went to pick her up, she was not in her apartment, so I went to check the dining room, where she was just finishing her lunch.  I walked up to her table and when she saw me she jumped back and got that "you've just stuck dog poo in my face" look again.  She told the two women that she didn't know me and didn't want to know me and didn't I look disgusting.  

That just hit me wrong (I'm obviously too sensitive) and I got angry with her.  She got her feelings hurt and one of her luncheon companions calmed me down and told me about when her son had donated his long hair to a group that made wigs for cancer patients.  She told me I was doing a beautiful thing. I wish my mother would tell me that.

My mother never said anything about how disgusting I look again, but I don't care if she does have dementia, if she continues to act like I've thrown dog feces at her every time she looks at me, I just won't go see her for awhile.  I'll send Walt to deliver her meds.  It bothers me that of all the good qualities I have admired about her through the years, the only one that seems to be sticking with her dementia is her vanity, which I have found her least desirable quality!

But this isn't about that, it's about wild flowers.

We drove out through the town of Winters went into the hills.  I was hoping that we weren't too late but then all of a sudden we were in the thick of it.

Everywhere we looked the hills were carpeted in purple lupine.  If you look carefully at the top in about the middle of the photo you will see a bright patch of orange poppies.

The purple carpet kept rolling along and then suddenly there was a carpet of poppies blanketing the hill.

It almost hurt the eyes, it was so beautiful.  We found a place to pull over where I could get some photos and I loved this patch of the two mixed together.

I think my mother enjoyed the ride.  She did seem to like the flowers, but enjoyed the greenery more.  But we eventually drove home and dropped her off.  I told her I would be by tomorrow to bring her meds.  I think she may still have been smarting from my brief outburst at lunch because she was very quiet.  THAT she'll remember.  What she ordered for lunch or the names of her great grandchildren, she doesn't.

Yes, I'm BALD

...When it was over, we got to take a look at ourselves in the mirror.

Then we went into the pub for dinner (beer and fish 'n' chips for me), after which we had to go to Atria to show my mother.  Thank goodness Marta was taking a video when we knocked on the door because the look on her face when she saw me should definitely have been recorded for posterity.  She looked like someone had just shoved a bag of dog feces in her face, she turned away from me and hid behind the door, in the dark kitchen.  She didn't want to turn around and look at me again.

Turns out she thinks Ned looks fine because he's a man but I'm a woman and she can't stand to look at me.  Several times through the short time we were there, she glanced over at me, grimaced and looked away again, though eventually she did accept it.  She's going to have to get over this real quick because we're spending the day tomorrow driving around looking at wildflowers.  (She says that's OK because wild flowers can't SEE me like people can).

Feeling "Off"

Every time I see my mother, she tells me that it's an unusual day because she woke up feeling like she should be doing something, but she doesn't know what and so her day is just off somewhat.  She doesn't realize that every day for her is like that.  She thinks it's just occasionally.

I hertook  to Kaiser to get a TB test.  She never did understand, despite countless explanations, where she was going or what she was going to do.  But it went all right and we return on Friday to have the test read.
 

After the TB test, I decided we should go out to lunch, so we went to IHOP, which is next door to Kaiser and has a parking lot.  I had forgotten that this was the first Monday of the month and was the day when a lot of the retirees from Walt's office meet for lunch.  Walt wasn't there when we arrived, but one of his co-workers that I know was (Walt arrived later).

The retirees sat at a table for 12 while my mother and I sat at a booth nearby.  I was glad that the retirees were there because it gave us a new topic of conversation.  "Is that YOUR group?" "Don't you want to sit with them?" "Do they come here every day?" and variations on those questions repeated over and over and over again throughout the entire lunch.  But it was fun to have something new to repeat.

I had done her laundry last night and brought it to her this morning, but there was no parking at or near Atria, so I left it in the car while we were driving around.  When we came back, I took a cloth bag that was in the car and put her laundry (it was nothing but underwear) in it, figuring the bag was small and lightweight and should not be a problem for her to carry.

Except she couldn't figure out what the bag was.  Every time I told her it was her underwear, she was first grateful because she was out and wondered how I had known that, and then she would look again and ask if I was sure it wasn't my underwear.  The last time we chatted about the laundry was as she was getting out of the car and asked me what was in the bag,  When I told her it was her laundry, she said "Well...if you say so..."  I am not convinced that the bag made it to her apartment, but I'll find out when she either calls me to ask where all of her underwear is because she's out, or when I see her on Friday for her TB test re-check.

Dear thing, she is exhausting, but I'm getting much better at coping with her emotionally.

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.