Mom Loves Us

The following entry was written weeks ago but due to editing errors on my part, the publishing was delayed. I thought mom's comments were noteworthy and didn't want you to miss them so here they are now.

Fortunately, the antibiotics worked their magic and mom was cleared to rejoin society (if you can call it that)back upstairs in the nursing home. While mom was still in isolation for the MRSA (staff infection) in her eye, we shared an unusually chatty day when she actually made sense. I jotted down quick notes while there so I wouldn't forget the amazing comments. Some were amusing while others were poignant and made me weep.

I wore gloves for my protection which is good if you have an open wound on your hands. However, if you touch your own eyes, nose or mouth after touching the infected person, the gloves do no good. Each time I got emotional I wanted to wipe away my tears...but the gloves had the potential MRSA on them. I'd strip off the gloves, go the the bathroom sink, wash my hands and forearms, put on new gloves and return to mom's room.It was a never-ending cycle. I'd give mom a head rub and tell myself to keep my hands out of my eyes. Then my eyes would itch so I'd rub them with my forearm, push my hair out of my eyes with my forearm,and finally, give up and wash my hands and start over again with new gloves. Comb her hair - replace gloves. Wipe away her dripping eye gunk - replace gloves. Feed her lunch - new gloves. I was so spooked about getting MRSA that I almost washed my hands raw. At times I thought to myself, "I'm spending more time in the bathroom washing my hands than I am with her." However, we had such a good connection that day that it made all the scrubbing worthwhile.

Me: I think this is almost the same dinner as you had last night.
Mom laughing: Oh no, it wasn't good then!

Mom: It's so dirty.
Me: What is?
Mom: That man over there.
Me: I don't know what you are seeing, but there is only you and me here in the room.
Mom: Thank you.
It's nice to be able to comfort mom when she is confused or worrying about something. For all I know, she was trying to describe something other than a man and the wrong word came out. You just have to go with the flow and do the best you can to clarify her sentences and thoughts. She is always so appreciative and relieved when I guess right and she can let that worry go.

Mom: Am I stuck here tonight?
Me: Yes, I'm afraid so. You have a contagious eye infection that they don't want spread around so you have to stay in this room tonight. I'm sorry.
Mom: O.K., if you say so.
Here again I went with the flow by saying she would have to stay there tonight. I knew she would be stuck in that room for at least 10 days but that would be even more upsetting. I've learned that little white lies or lying by omission must be a forgivable sin when dealing with Alzheimer's.

Mom: I'm trying to be like you...sweet and nice.
Me: Oh, you are the sweet one. Everyone says so.

Mom: You don't have to do anything more for me. You do enough.
Me: I don't do that much. You have done so much for me and the family that I like to be here with you.

Mom: I have no memory. I can't talk to anyone.
Me: I'm sorry it is so hard for you. It's not fair.
This one definitely had me wiping my eyes. If you think of someone with Alzheimer's as a person who has a blank space in their head with no thoughts at all it's somehow easier to deal with their situation. It isn't as painful to be with your loved one if you can tell yourself they don't know what's going on. You can tell yourself, "Oh, she doesn't even know where she is or what day it is. She is living in la la land." The truth of the matter though, at least at this stage of the disease, is that mom does have thoughts and worries. There is a real thinking person inside of her. She just doesn't have the ability to articulate clearly what she is thinking. I was amazed that on this particular day she could tell me about her memory loss. I didn't have a good answer as to why she has this disease. I could only commiserate. It didn't seem enough.

Mom: I'm worried.
Me: What are you worried about?
Mom: I can't tell the people that I love them.
Me: The family?
Mom: Yes.
Me: I'll tell them tonight.
Mom: Oh, good. Thank you.
Sorry it took so long to relay mom's message of love to the family. Please pass it on to anyone who doesn't read this that mom loves them.

And, finally, when I opened the door to her room to let the sun shine in on her..
Mom: I'm so happy. This warmth..everyone should have this.
Me: It's wonderful. I'm glad you are happy.

Mom's glimpse into reality (or more accurately, her ability to use the correct words to express herself) was a mixed blessing for me. The truth of her comments, her realization that she had lost her memory, that she couldn't tell her family she loved them, and that she was stuck there was so sad for me to hear. I tried so hard to keep a smile on my face because I didn't want to add to her fear and discomfort. It wasn't easy. The hand washing, tear wiping, new gloves routine continued for the visit. But, the visit wasn't about me and how sad I was. It was a day to celebrate because she could express herself and I could understand, clarify, agree, explain, validate and actually converse with her. In a way, it was a day all of us can be grateful for as we "heard" her tell us of her love, one more time.