Blog 48: I Still Have Hope

My mom was taken to the hospital a few days ago.  She has become increasingly agitated and combative and they want to try different medications to calm her down before she leaves the assisted living center and goes to skilled nursing care.  She’s expected to stay there for at least a week.  Renee has already removed Mom's belongings from the assisted living center she was in.  She won't be going back there now. Renee said she’d keep me up to date with how Mom's doing, but she hasn’t been doing that, so I took it upon myself to call the hospital today.  It took awhile to get to the right department but I got through, and they let me talk to my mom.  She seemed ok, though her voice was somewhat slurred.  I’m sure it’s the new drugs kicking in.  She said she can’t find her shoes and then she said she had to go.  I could hear people talking close by and I think it was distracting her.  I told her I love her and she told me she loves me too. 

The communication with Renee has gone kind of sour.  I was afraid it would because it seems that since I opened the door she is using me as a sounding board and taking all of her frustrations out on me.  It’s like, she welcomed the opportunity to tell me exactly how she feels.  Even though I told her it is best that we not bring up the things that hurt us in the past, she finds every opportunity to bring up so many things that have frustrated her, and not just about me, but she is projecting it off on me.  

I’ll give an example.  Renee sent me an email the night before our mom was going to the hospital.  I emailed her back and I said that I knew she was getting pretty agitated and that I hope that the doctors can help her.  The next day I tried to call Renee because I thought that Mom was taken in by then, and she didn’t answer.  Instead she sent a text and this is how it went…

(Renee)  I don’t have time right now.  They r not taking mom today.  There is no bed.  I go back and forth on what’s best but I do know that this hospital has a good reputation and mom cannot be happy when she is this agitated.  She has struggled with the agitation since day one and the right medication could really help her. 

(Me)  Who suggested she go there?

(Renee)  THEY DID and it wasn’t a “suggestion”, it was a “we can’t help your mom when she is like this,”  so don’t even go there Lizzie.  I’m in no state to embrace anything but support.  U asked to know what was going on, and u know.  We r done for now. 

(Me)  Why are you mad at me and so defensive? I only asked a question.  I care.

(Renee)  Because that was a bullshit question and u know it.  Why the f..k would I suggest it. 

(Me)  Wow.  I’m sorry. I want mom to be happy, that’s all.

(Renee)  Yeah, wow, it’s called sleep deprivation and extreme uncontrollable worry and anxiety.  Well then you need to change your expectations bc I can guarantee you one thing, no one is “happy” with dementia.  Seriously?!  Would u be

(Me)  That’s not what I meant.  Of course.  Maybe happy is a poor choice of words.  Sorry.  None of us are happy now.  You act like you are the only one who is feeling the way you are.  I don’t want to be your target for your frustration and anger.  Call me when you feel like it.   You are the one who said mom can't be happy when she's agitated.  

(Renee)  We r done here.

Her emails have been much worse, full of condescending tones, and lots of anger.  She emphasizes her sentences using quotes, capital letters, bold lettering, and rows of exclamation marks and question marks.  It is so intimidating.  I just don’t know how or if I can be of any help to her.  The thing is, I am trying to help her.  I reached out to her.  I want to have all of my sisters in my life!  But, she doesn’t want any help.  She wants to do everything herself and make all the decisions herself and not include any of her sisters.  She is not open to suggestions or talking things over.  There is no discussing anything that she is not in favor of.  It’s her way or the highway and if you don’t agree, shut up and don’t say a word.  Then she takes it all out on us because she can’t do it all herself, and she questions the decisions she has made.   I think she's mad at herself, maybe questioning her decisions, and she's taking it out on me.

Then there’s Lynda, who has closed the doors of communication.  She didn’t respond to the email I sent her, and she has ignored my phone calls.  I left a message for her to please call me because I want to talk to her.  She hasn’t.  I don’t understand it, and the only thing I can come up with is that she wants to leave well enough alone.  She knows I have offered to come home to take care of mom, and that if I'm not allowed to, I have pushed to have her put in a nursing home in her hometown where she and most of Mom’s family live.  But if Mom came home, it would mean she would feel obligated to take a more active role in Mom’s life.  She likes things the way they are, with mom a three hour drive away.   Her comfort level is going to see Mom once every 6 weeks.  Everyone loves our mom and we are dealing with her illness in our own way and we know what we can handle and what we can’t. 

I just can’t help but feel that Renee has a lot to do with Lynda’s distance from me.  I’ve felt that all along.  Renee is throwing me under the bus.  She's making me look like a bad person because I moved away, because I wanted to come back to take care of Mom and she didn't think it was a good idea, because I didn't agree with so many things Renee did in selling Mom's house and disposing of most of her belongings, and so on. Lynda and I used to talk about everything regarding Mom.  Lynda has given in to Renee's demands.  It's easier that way.  She's been on the receiving end of Renee's wrath before, so she has shut down and given in.  We shouldn’t have to do that, we shouldn't have to take sides.  We don’t have to always agree, and we should accept and listen to each other and not hate one another for not thinking the same way.  Taking the not speaking to one another route is not going to benefit any of us, and certainly not Mom.  We are living proof of that.  If we would have been communicating all along, we wouldn't have all these issues.

In regards to Kathy and Annie, they both want Mom brought back to her hometown.  But Kathy doesn’t have the fight in her to deal with Renee, and Annie won’t even speak to Renee.

Renee is the one running this boat.  I’ve been the one trying to patch things up with all of my sisters and keep this boat from sinking.  I finally told Renee that I am not going to be the one to fix things with her and Annie.  I fixed what was wrong with me and Annie and it’s her job to fix what’s wrong with her and Annie.  I always try to be the one to make things better because I am the oldest, and I’ve always felt responsible in keeping everyone together as a family.  I won’t give up just yet.  I still have hope that my sisters and I can get a grip on what this stupid disease has done to our family.  Maybe my trip back home will help, maybe it won’t.  I do know that I am trying my best, being overly understanding, biting my tongue, letting Renee vent, without giving up who I am.  

Blog 47: Changes Coming Soon

Some progress has been made in the communication with my sister Renee, after sending her the article I posted in my last blog post.  She emailed me and I wrote her back and told her I want us to be able to move forward and put these things that troubled us in the past behind us for now.  They can be addressed at a later date if we need to talk about it.  Right now I think it’s important to focus on healing and moving forward, and when we feel that our emotions and our sister relationship is in a good, safe, healthy place, then we can talk about those things (if we need to, and I know we will).

We spoke on the phone and have continued with emails.  Some of which were not very positive as she wanted to discuss some issues from the past that only brought up those painful memories, but all in all, I think we are moving forward.  I had to bite my tongue a few times.  She said she appreciates me reaching out.   Hopefully, we are starting our next chapter, and it will be one of loving, caring, supportive sisters.  One thing I know for sure, our mom is loved so much, by each and every one of us.  That never was in doubt. 

So much has happened in the past couple of weeks that I can’t possibly go into all of the details.  But to put it simply…my mom’s money will be gone by the end of this year, and she needs to be moved out of her current facility to a nursing home that has an available certified Medicaid bed in a memory care unit.  Renee found one close to where she is now, and I asked her if I could make phone calls to try to find one closer to the rest of the family in Mom’s hometown.   I found that most places have waiting lists, if they even accept title 19 at all.  I believe that one can be found, but it is going to take more than me making phone calls.  Renee wants me to come back ASAP and help her with paperwork and placement.  Most likely, Mom will not be moved to her hometown, which makes me sad, because I know one of my sisters will not come around should this happen.    

In the past year, Mom has shown some decline in her memory and concentration.  She is often incontinent, and it can take her a half hour to brush her teeth and change her clothes.   The agitation has become worse, she walks much slower, and she is just slipping away.  

Nobody wants Mom to be moved to a skilled-care nursing home.  It’s scary, not knowing how she will adjust and what kind of care she will receive.  I offered to come back and take care of Mom for awhile, and Renee said if I did she would hand over guardianship to me, to which I said no.  I live in Arizona, I would have to bring Mom back here with me (she’d never handle the flight) and take her away from the family, or else sell my house and move there, and that’s not an option for me at this time.  I can’t possibly make these changes right now.  Plus, Mom’s house is gone, her furniture is gone, and now her money is gone.  My plan is not the same as it was last year when I offered to come back and be Mom’s caregiver.  Renee wouldn’t let me then.  I had predicted she would be willing to relinquish guardianship once it got to this point.  I don’t know how I can do it now, but I will find a way if she will help me.

The latest news is that I am going to fly back to Chicago and take my mom to my daughter’s apartment to care for her.   This isn't set in stone, but it is a real possibility.  Renee said Mom needs to be moved out of her current location by the end of the month, or shortly thereafter, and she wants me take Mom and see how it works out before she places her elsewhere.  She suggested I do it for at least a week.  I don’t know how long I will be there, I don’t know if it’s going to work out, I don’t know how Mom is going to handle the new environment, I don't know anything right now.  All I know is that I want to do whatever I am able to do for my Mom.   Renee is giving me this chance, and for once, I feel that my prayers have been heard.  It's not going to be the same as it would have been last year.  Things are different in many, many ways.  Mom's familiar things are gone.  It's going to be a challenge, but I'm going to do my best.     

Blog 46: Sharing an Important Message

This is a story written by a Facebook friend, JoAnne Chitwood.  It is not written by me, but it seemed like it was written for me.  I felt compelled to share it on my Facebook page and my blog, and to share it with my sisters.   My sisters and I have drifted apart, and, even though we are all suffering because of it, we can't seem to come to terms with how to fix the problems, because of our own hurt feelings.  I'm hoping that we can once again hear this message that we are smart enough to know, but need to be reminded of again, and put some true effort into making peace and being a real family again.  It's like I said before, though, people have to be willing to make changes and to want this.  I'm willing, I want it.  I hope they are, too.  I asked her permission to post it on my blog.  Here it is...

"I had a dream last night that felt as real as if I were wide awake. I was cross-country skiing in the mountains with my family. My brother was there, just ahead of me on the trail. Suddenly the snow around us turned to slush and a roaring flash flood began tearing away chunks of the mountain beneath our feet. We fought to keep our footing and scrambled for higher ground. I had gone back to get something I left in the trail, so was the last one in the line. My brother waited for me, risking his own life, and pulled me to a place of safety.

I woke up thankful that it was just a dream, but began thinking about family. My son, James, is studying criminal justice and is looking at trends in society and how those stem from how our families function. I believe it, too, from many years of dealing with family systems- my own and those of many other hurting people. I do believe that as goes the family, so goes society.

I’m not talking about specific configuration of family. I don’t care whom the family is made up of, we affect each other deeply. We may have a trigger event happen with a family member that pushes deep buttons for us and feel that it’s better that we cut off a relationship with that person. Granted, that may sometimes be the wisest choice we can make at the time, if that person is unsafe and won’t look at the issues. But it’s like amputation, we only do it if there is no other option.

God knows we all have our issues and what triggers us in the other person’s attitudes and actions is actually most often a mirror of our own unresolved “stuff.” This is a priceless gift. In healthy, open family systems, these “triggers” are addressed in an atmosphere of deep caring for each other, tolerance, empathy, and a willingness to be uncomfortable for awhile until you hear the other person’s honest viewpoint and understand where they are coming from.

Many studies have been done that demonstrate the very personal rewards for those with the courage to heal wounds instead of destroying the fabric of the family by closing off from each other. Those who choose healing in relationships have significantly less physical illness. Cancer thrives on bitterness and isolation (since those increase acidity in the body.) Migraines, anxiety, lowered resistance to colds and flu, heart disease, muscle aches, etc. can all be traced to unresolved issues of the heart.

Another great gift we give ourselves when we choose to be part of a healing, open family system is that of personal momentum. Resistance is a force of nature. The tendency to homeostasis is like the law of gravity. Any time we are moving in a direction of growth and creativity and following our dreams, resistance will come against us to hold us in homeostasis. All artists know this. We have to push against the resistance to create something new and wonderful, even when that new and wonderful thing is our own growth and development.

One of the most effective ways that resistance keeps us from realizing our dreams is within the family, in relationships. The most effective resistance comes from avoidance of relational issues. It may seem that we are taking the path of least resistance when we avoid dealing with issues, but it is a choice that actually increases resistance to personal growth and healing and self-actualization in ourselves.

In other words, we all get there together, or we each suffer. Anyone who has ever experienced a rift in their family system knows what I’m talking about. We can choose to do the work individually, even if others in the family won’t, but we will never experience what we could have if we had all pulled together.

It’s true in the family system and it’s true in the larger family system that is our country and our world. Do you want to see growth and health in our country? Go make peace with your sister. It starts with each of us.

I am proud of the decisions I have seen my family members make, over and over, even when it is super difficult, for healing of wounds and moving closer together rather than making the choice of fear and distance and isolation. I will continue to fight for that, to pray for that, and to choose it for myself."

By JoAnne Chitwood

Blog 45: Alzheimer's and Dementia: A Different Mom

A slow change is taking place with my mom.  She’s slipping even more out of my life.  Since I don’t live near her, I rely on our phone conversations to keep in touch between visits.  Those phone calls aren’t as frequent as they used to be, but that is because it's so hard to talk to her now.  Many times she doesn't engage in conversation or she doesn't remember how to hold the phone up to her ear, or she puts the phone down and she is gone.

Today she told me she couldn't hear me and I told her to hold the phone closer to her ear.  She did for a few seconds but I had to keep reminding her to hold the phone by her ear.  Mom asked me what I was doing and I said I was reading.  She asked me if Abbie was coming over.  I was shocked that she remembered her great granddaughter's name, and I assumed she must have remembered her visit last month.   Oh, how she loved spending time with Abbie!  

Sometimes she remembers and says things that completely take me by surprise.  Remembering Abbie was one of them.  Another time she asked me if I still play the flute.  I played in school and obviously that memory came back to her.  Last week she told me to, "Get your butt over here so I can see your pretty face."  She was being bossy in a fun, loving mom way, which is what she used to do.  Often she can't even remember what she did a minute ago or who came to see her that day, but then she can remember a person who came to see her a long time ago.  Every day seems to be different, as much as it is predictable, if that makes any sense.  You just never know when those neuro-transmitters in her brain are going to make a connection.

During our very brief conversation, mom said she had a purse and she was trying to find it.  Her voice trailed off in the distance and I knew I was going to lose her.  I called out for her and she said, "Wait, Liz, wait!"  For a brief moment she remembered I was on the phone, but those seconds that went by stole her memory of being on the phone with me.  I kept calling out to her and saying, "Mom, are you there?" I could hear her in her room, but she forgot she was talking to me.  After a few moments of calling out for her, I finally, sadly, hung up the phone.

I sat there and just stared at my book, unable to read, unable to concentrate on anything, as my thoughts couldn’t break away from her.  I want so bad to be able to have a normal conversation with my mom, but I know that is never going to happen again.  Some days she is more 'there' than others, and I appreciate those moments.  Her voice is still the same, and I feel so soothed by the sound of her voice.  

Yesterday I was going through photos and videos on my computer and I came across a video I took of my mom talking on the phone to my son in California.  I was visiting my mom when my son called.  She didn’t seem to notice or care that I was video recording her. They spoke for about 10 minutes, and even though she repeated some things and talked about her ‘make believe’ world, she seemed to be engaged in the conversation and answered questions, etc.  A lot has changed in eight months. 

I feel bad about recording my mom on video and for taking so many pictures.  Before my mom became ill she always hated the camera, and would stick her hands up to block her face whenever she saw one. She’s different now and she will even pose for a picture.  She never complains.  I keep having this battle in my head about whether or not I should be taking pictures or if I should respect her wishes of how she felt about it before she got Alzheimer’s.  I just feel that in some weird way, if there’s anything good to come out of her illness, it’s that we are able to capture some memories of our visits and our times together that I can cherish, and my kids and grandchildren can cherish, for the rest of our lives.  I’m sure it’s a good thing...those four generation pictures, those moments of tenderness, hugs, smiles, and togetherness. 

Too bad that when Mom was well and healthy we weren’t able to take many pictures of her.  I frequently talk to my aunt, and she said that Mom fussed about getting her picture taken, even when she was a little girl.  I don’t know why because she was so beautiful.  She still is beautiful.  Dementia has changed her, but I still only see my beautiful mom whenever I look at her. 

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 43: The Twisted Fate of Alzheimer's

Upon The Heart Our Story Is Told

When I was little you held me in your arms, and I felt your heart beating against my body.  I’m sure you felt my heart beating, too.  It's the heartbeat of love, that which is only felt by mother and child.  Now I hold your frail body in my arms and feel your heart beating against my body.  Upon the heart our story is told. 

I looked into your eyes and studied your beautiful face, and your voice soothed me.

Now I look into your eyes and see sadness, distance, and fear, and I use my voice to try and soothe you.  I do my best, but I don’t know if it’s working.  

My whole life you comforted me.  You wouldn’t let anyone hurt me and if anyone did, you took care of it and made me feel better.  I still need you, Mom.  I have to find new ways to be comforted by you.  But it’s more important for me to comfort you, and I will strive to bring you comfort every opportunity I can.

When I was weak you picked me up.  You helped me to be stronger and you showed me the way.  You are weak now Mom, and I will pick you up and show you the way.

You held my hand as a child, and protected me from harm.  I will hold your hand now and not let you fall.  I will protect you from harm.

You were so smart, so brave, and so strong to raise five daughters on your own.  You were a fighter.  I will fight for you now, Mom.   With God’s help, I will be brave and strong.

You could sense if anything was bothering me, and you would call me to see if everything was ok.  Now I do that to you, Mom.  If I sense something, I pick up the phone and call you.  I just need to hear your voice and know you are ok. 

Even in your darkest times, and I know you had some when I was growing up, you put your daughters’ happiness ahead of your own.  You put on a happy face so we wouldn’t worry.   But I could always see through that happy face.  I could see your tears.  I learned how to do that from you, Mom.  I’m putting on a happy face.  Can you see my tears?  I hope not. 

You used to be able to spot me in a crowded auditorium.  You could hear my cries on the playground, and you even said you could hear me (over everyone else) play my flute in concert band.  Your eyes and ears were keen.  Now I need to stand close to you and say something in order for you to recognize me.  Your mind doesn’t know me but your heart does.  It never forgets.  You know me as the one with the long, dark curly hair.  But you also know my name, and that makes me smile.  Sometimes I think you remember I’m your daughter.  The other day you even remembered I played the flute.  It seemed like you did, anyway.

You used to tell me stories about your childhood and mine.  Now you have forgotten almost all of that, and I am telling you stories that you don’t remember.   I will hold all of those memories for you, Mom, for as long as I can.  And if the day comes that I will forget, my kids will carry on those memories for us.  I'm sure some of them will get lost along the way.

You used to laugh at jokes until you had tears in your eyes.  I loved your laugh and the stories we used to tell.   We had some really fun times.  Now it’s hard to laugh over anything when I am with you, though I do laugh if something funny happens, and so do you.  Now my tears flow more readily.  I cry when I see you because I am happy to see you, yet sad to see you like this.  I cry when I leave you because I don’t know what you’ll be like the next time I see you.   I’m always hoping I can say something funny to make you laugh. 

All of our lives we struggled financially, but you made us feel wealthy.  You spared us from the details.  You sheltered us from stress, but you didn’t succeed in doing that with me.  As the oldest, I saw too much and I bore too much at such a young age.  It wasn’t your fault, Mom.  You did the best you could.  Now I am the person I am because of that.  I don’t know if I’m too strong or too weak.   I do not consider myself a victim; I am a survivor.  You always told me that, and you know me best.  Your words have always been the most loving words said to me.

When we were young we had all the time in the world.  Time to have fun, time to waste, time to do this or that.   We don’t have time on our side anymore.  Time is slipping away and stealing everything.   I promise you Mom, I will never let a day go by wasted.  I will live my life with grace and dignity, and honor you forever.  I will try to be as happy as I can, because I know that is what you would want for me.  I will steer clear from negativity, for I know that life is way too short.  I will always fill my days with thoughts of you, no matter what I am doing, and I will continue to pray that we will have more time with you.  

You hated goodbyes.  It was always hard to say goodbye to you when we were going to be apart for even a few days.  Now we are living with the longest, most painful, goodbye we could have ever imagined.  You are etched in my soul, my mom, my mom forever.  You are visible in everything I do.  Your face is always there.  Your voice is always there.  Your laughter is always there.  So is your Alzheimer’s now.  It’s always there.  Nobody should have to go through this alone.  Thank God you don’t understand what is happening.  Thank God you don’t have to say goodbye to us.

God, please give me strength, give me hope, give me peace, and let me feel your presence in my life.  Don’t take my mom until I am strong enough to say goodbye. 

Blog 42: A Wonderful Visit With My Mom

I recently flew back to visit my mom with my daughter Rose and four year old granddaughter, Abbie.  Mom was sleeping when we walked into her room at the nursing home.  I quickly replaced the photos on her wall where she scratched out my face.  It didn't even really bother me because I know my mom has dementia and gets confused about things.  It was very evident during our weeks visit, as we would find out.  Mom's memory has declined and her behavior is more confusing.

After replacing the photographs with new ones I sat on my mom's bed and watched her sleep.  She was in a deep sleep and I didn't have the heart to wake her, yet I was so excited to let her know we were there.  After a few minutes I touched her arm and said, "Wake up sleepy head." She woke up suddenly and smiled at me.  She said, "Oh, Lizzie!"  She then looked over at Abbie standing by the bed, and she said, "she's beautiful!"  Mom asked what her name was, and asked again and again throughout the day.  It has been over a year since they've seen each other in person.  Abbie was a little shy and seemed scared at first.  It's understandable that a four year old would be apprehensive when seeing someone with behavior that is different from what they are used to.

Abbie was reluctant to give her great grandma, or big nana, as she calls her, a hug.  But when she did it seemed like neither one of them wanted to let go.  I have another picture of them hugging and my mom had tears in her eyes.  I couldn't tell if they were tears of happiness or sadness, maybe it was a little of both.   Mom's face looked so sad.  Clearly my mom needed these hugs and I believe Abbie understood that.   Mom is not as likely to give out hugs to anyone else so Abbie was very fortunate to get them!

Mom wanted to braid Abbie's hair.  She did a great job of it, too.

My mom was just wonderful that first day.  She was so happy and relaxed.  We took her out for lunch and went for a drive, and then we went down to the river and fed the geese.  My daughter snapped a picture of me holding Mom's hand as we walked to the car.  My mom isn't as steady on her feet and needs help getting up and down curbs and getting situated in the car.

The next day Mom was different.  She was still happy to see us but she was acting much more confused and she was complaining about some of the staff and residents there and even about her family.  Mom is really starting to forget who her family is and how much she always loved and protected each and every one of us.  When she says things about someone in the family it makes me sad for my mom.  I know she doesn't mean what she says but it still hurts to hear it.  She gets her daughters mixed up and her grandchildren, and she will say something about someone that isn't true.  She may remember some little thing from the past, but then the story gets twisted.  She even said, "Lizzie steals my things."  I said, I'm Lizzie mom, and she said, "Well, I don't mean you. I'm sorry."  Sometimes it's hard to tell if she even knows I'm her daughter anymore.

On the last day of our visit my other daughter and her boyfriend came to see my mom, and an old and dear friend of my mom's drove the three hour drive to see her, too.  He is also 76 years old and is in pretty good health.  They've known each other for over 50 years.  He hadn't seen my mom in about two years.  My mom didn't recognize him, but after they talked, and he brought up some things from the past, she said, "I think I'm beginning to remember you."  She said some inappropriate things to him, but she does that sometimes.  He understands that it's not my mom, it's her illness that makes her talk like that.  I was really happy that he came to see her and he said that he would be back.

My daughter and I took a bunch of pictures and I would post more but I am trying to be respectful of my mom and my family and keep our identities private at this time.  Some day I may change my mind, but for now, I think this is best.  We got some wonderful four generation pictures that we will cherish for a lifetime.  I almost feel guilty about snapping pictures though.  My mom always hated having her picture taken, but now that she has dementia, she cooperates.  She even seems to like it now.  I think if my mom was in her right mind she would be throwing her hands in front of her face like she used to, saying...Lizzie, STOP!  

I think my mom had too much stimulation with all the visitors there on our last day. After the others left, my daughter and granddaughter and I said good-bye.  My mom was kind of agitated and was saying things that didn't make any sense.  I knew it was time to leave, and I knew it was going to be hard.  I tried to hug her and she kind of pulled away, as she did with Rose.  She did give Abbie a hug.   I told her I love her and she said she loves me, too.  We said we'd miss her very much and she said to come back soon.  She looked so sad sitting in her rocking chair.  It was as if she knew that she can't communicate the way she wants to and she knew that there was something wrong with her.  I really and truly felt like she was crying out for help,  and she wanted me to understand she doesn't mean the things she says.  She wants us to know she loves us, and I do know she loves us all very much.   

As we walked out of the room her last words to me were, "Be careful."  That look on her face and those words told me that my mom knew I am her daughter.  Just those two words and the hopeless expression on her face made my eyes fill with tears as I walked out to the car.  I felt so incredibly sad and helpless.  Rose got into the car and she hugged me and cried, too.  She said she probably won't remember her the next time she sees her, and sadly, she's probably right.  Abbie, having never seen her nana cry, sensed our pain and said, "Awwwwwwww," as she watched her mom and nana hold on to each other as we cried our silent tears.