Blog 66: Song, and 50 Minutes With Mom on Easter

My mom was one of those talented people who could sew, paint, and cook, just to name of few of her many talents.  She made the best potato salad and meatloaf.  I wish I could make it the same but that's just impossible.  Last night I made an attempt to replicate her potato salad for our Easter cookout today, but it just doesn't compare.  I thought about her every step of the way and felt as though she was with me, guiding me in the process. 

I can’t help but think about my mom when a holiday comes around and today is no exception.  I guess I think about her so much because everything started with her.  All of my early childhood memories involved her.  It’s pretty clear she has been a huge influence on my life and no doubt on my sister's lives as well.  My mom was made for us, and we were made for her.   This beautiful song just says it all.  It's called The Story...

 

It was three years ago that we celebrated the last family Easter at my mom’s house.  Much has changed since then.   Her house has been sold, Mom is in an elderly group home now, and her Alzheimer’s has taken much of who she was away and left a weak, feeble body.  This horrible disease has taken it's toll on our family, too.  Here’s a picture of my family in happier times when we were much younger.  This was taken on Easter, in 1965, at my grandparent’s farm. 

I called to talk to my mom on the phone today and got an extra special surprise.  Usually I can only keep the conversation going for about five to ten minutes before she hands the caregiver the phone or the caregiver takes the phone, but this time Mom held the phone up to her ear and we talked for 50 minutes!  The caregiver walked away and left Mom with the phone and surprisingly she held the phone steady by her ear. 

Most of the time the conversation was one-sided and revolved around me trying to get her to talk or answer questions.  She never asks questions anymore so it’s pretty much up to me to get her to talk.  Even though much of what she said didn’t make sense, I’m beginning to understand her language and take from it what I think she is trying to say.   She usually only gets the first part of a sentence out before she stops talking, and I assume it's because she forgets what she was going to say or she is unable to formulate her thoughts.  She did however say some memorable things and I always write those things down.   It's like keeping a part of her with me forever.  I cling to those moments of clarity and meaning in her words.

I must have told her I love her twenty times and each time she said it right back to me. I love hearing those words come out of her mouth.   She couldn’t say my name and she couldn’t name her other daughters.  I tried to help her by starting with my name and going down the line but nothing would help.  She couldn’t say our names today, but maybe she can tomorrow.  I know she recognized my voice and knows me as being someone familiar and I believe she still knows I'm her daughter.  After all, she told me she loves me twenty times today!  I think if I was in front of her she would be able to say my name.  At least I hope so.  

I felt close to mom this Easter because we got to spend some time together, uninterrupted.  This was a wonderful Easter gift and truly a miracle that Mom held the phone for that long.  That hasn’t happened in a very long time.  I needed her today and I felt like she needed me, too.   We got 50 minutes together, time that we both needed, and I’m happy.      

Blog 54: Fix You

Dear Mom, 

I had to leave you.  I had to go back home.  This time it was harder than ever to say goodbye.  I know that I won’t be able to talk to you on the phone, and I have no idea how long it will be before I am able to hear your beautiful voice again.  The nursing home can't take calls for you and even if they did, you really don’t know what to do with the phone anymore.  I will have to rely on family members to call me when they are visiting you, and most of them don’t live that close to you, so I will just have to wait for that phone call, and hope it comes. 

That phone call won’t come from Renee, Mom.  I guess we will never see eye to eye, and I know if you knew what she was doing to our family you would certainly be very disappointed in her.  When I texted her to ask how you are doing, she ignored me.  Then the next day I asked again.  She texted back and said she has everything under control and to stop asking.  She said 'we are done'. You are my mom and I want to know how you are doing.  She is my link to you since she lives near you and sees you the most.   I suppose it's going to be days or weeks before I will hear anything.  I can't call you when I want.  I just have to be quiet and let Renee contact me when or if she wants to.  When she hurts me like that,  it affects my whole day.  I can't stop crying...I can’t do anything!  I am lost.  I know, Mom, that you know I am trying, and I am the only one who is.   It's just so hard to talk to her.  You know how she is, Mom.  You especially know, because she always gave you a hard time.  

Mom, when I was with you, I felt bad that you were so scared when the nurse and I tried to change you.  You looked at me with such fear as you dug your fingers into my arms, squeezing me til my arms hurt, begging and pleading with me to help you.  You don’t understand that what I was doing was helping you.   Your granddaughter and her boyfriend were waiting outside of your room while you shouted at me to help you.  That must have been hard for them to hear, and my heart ached for you because you wouldn’t want them to see you like this, you wouldn’t want to live like this.

You told me you don’t want to be mean to me.  You aren’t being mean to me, Mom.  You are scared and you are fighting because you don’t want to live like this.  You want to be left alone and do things on your own, even though we know you would never survive if that happened.  You always were a fighter and I’m glad to see you fighting still, as hard as it is to see it.  When you stop fighting is when I’ll really worry. 

When I was visiting you Mom, you were suffering with a urinary tract infection.  The nurses told me that they need a urine specimen to treat it.  They were not diligent in taking care of this the whole two weeks I was there.  Renee was too busy with work to follow through.  I finally, nicely but firmly, spoke to the third nurse about it before I left, and told her that I know UTI’s can cause delusions and a lot more confusion for dementia sufferers, and they need to do something to get a urine sample and start the antibiotics.  She said they were going to put a catheter in while you were sleeping.  If they did, I’m sure you were very scared.  I’m sorry, Mom.  If they finally treated your infection, maybe then you won’t be ‘seeing’ mice crawling around in your room, cows stepping on everyone’s feet, your great grandson Kevin in a coffin, kids on railroad tracks, and thinking the waste-basket is the toilet.   I remember when Dad had a UTI and he was seeing things crawling on his walls.  When the infection was treated, he was a new man.  I’m sorry, Mom.   It’s not your fault, I wish I could fix you.

I hope you are eating your food, Mom.  You hardly ate when I was there, other than that time I sat with you for an hour and used every trick I knew to get you to open your mouth and take a bite.  I told you Kevin said he wants you to eat, and that look of love on your face for Kevin, got you to open up and let me put a small spoonful in your mouth.  You managed to eat one-quarter of your lunch.  Other times you wouldn’t eat, no matter what.  Maybe the UTI was causing you to lose your appetite, too.  I hope you are eating more now, because it is a scary sign when you stop eating.

Are you ready to go, Mom?  Do you see what we can’t see and know more than what we think you do?  Has the veil been lifted?  You have been talking so much about your mom and dad and other people who have passed on.  Are you seeing them now?  Are they bringing you comfort?  Are they calling you to come be with them in Heaven?  Rose, your granddaughter thinks so.  She thinks you are hanging on now because God knows we aren’t ready to let you go.  You were so loving to me when I was there visiting you.  More loving than you've ever been since you became sick with Alzheimer's.  You told me over and over again how much you love me.  Were you preparing me, Mom?  God will know when the time is right and He will take you home then.  He will fix you!

There’s a song called ‘Fix You’ that makes me think of you, Mom, and our family, and the struggles we have gone through.  I am going to have someone help me make a video about our family, and I am going to use this song.  Until then, I found this video on YouTube that I liked.  This is for you, Mom.

I love you and miss you so much,

Lizzie  XOXO

Blog 44: Barefoot, Fireflies, and Tents...Reminiscing Again (Video)

Times were different when I was a kid in the 60’s.   We played outside until dark, running around barefoot, even running across gravel driveways with ease.   If you stepped on a thistle, you only did it once, because you made sure you remembered where it was so that you wouldn’t do that again.  When you got thirsty, you just turned on the hose and squirted water in your mouth.   There was no need to go through all the trouble of going inside the house to get a glass of water.  There wasn't time anyway.  Usually you were in the middle of a game of hide 'n seek or red rover, red rover.  Besides, your mom might see you and decide it’s time to come inside and get ready for bed.

We pulled the ‘lights’ off the fireflies flying in the night air, and made ‘rings’ on our fingers.  It was sticky so it would stick to our skin.  Then we'd hold our hands up and watch the blinking glow and then go back to playing.  It grosses me out to think of that now.   If we talked on the phone it was only to tell our friend to come over.  We made doll houses out of cardboard boxes and poked holes in the lids of coffee cans for our pet insects, and we made tents with blankets thrown over the picnic table.  Then we’d sleep on another blanket underneath that makeshift tent, while the grass got wetter and wetter as the night went on.  How in the world did we fit under a picnic table?

Mom would keep her bedroom window open so she could hear us…and we probably kept her awake with our endless chatter and giggles.  In all those attempts to make it through the night, I can only recall one morning waking up at dawn.  Most of the time we ditched our tent and headed indoors to our nice, soft, dry beds, scratching the mosquito bites as we sleepily made our way to our rooms.

Those were the days.  Thank you Mom for making it all possible and allowing me to be a kid.  I wasn't always the big sister, or the little mom.  I was also a kid, and my mom knew that.   

Blog 32: My Mom is the Wind Beneath My Wings

This is Mother's Day, May 13, 2012, and I wanted to post something different, something special for my mom.  My last post was about my mom being placed in a nursing home one year ago.  This post is current.  I will go back to where I left off on my next post.

Today I spoke to my mom on the phone and I told her Happy Mother's Day!  She said, thank you, same to you!  I was happy that she remembered that I am a mom, and I have kids.  I asked her if she got the Mother's Day card I sent her.  She said she wasn't sure if she got it, but I asked one of the staff and they said she did.  It's one of those musical cards that when you open it up it plays 'You Are My Sunshine'.  She was sitting on a bench outside of her room and she started singing the song, to which I sang right along with her.  She was just belting out the words and she knew every last one, too.  It sure put a smile on my face.  I knew then that she most likely had been looking at the card, over and over again, because that's what she does.

I am not able to see my mom today, sadly, but I was with her just a couple of weeks ago.  She asked me if I was coming over because she didn't want to be there alone.  Usually I remind her that I don't live close by anymore but I will be there real soon.  This time I told her I would come over.  Why not give her a happy moment?  It makes her feel good, and she won't remember anyway.  I know some of my sisters were going to go see her today, so she won't be alone.

The "Wind Beneath My Wings" song makes me think of my mom.  She made so many sacrifices in her life for her daughters and grandchildren.  My sister had the words to this song embroidered and placed in a frame that hung on Mom's living room wall for years.  I will forever be grateful for what she has done for us. She is my hero, she is the wind beneath my wings.  I love you so much, Mom!