Caregiving

My mother was diagnosed with dementia four years ago. She has a fairly rare form of it that includes Parkinsonian features like muscle rigidity, inability to stand or walk and limited use of her hands. She came to live with me full-time just over three years ago. I care for her completely and it's not physically or emotionally easy, but most of the time she accepts my care with grace and gratitude, which makes it easier than it could be otherwise.

I haven't written about it because I didn't know what to say nor did I think anyone would want to read it. However, almost all of my friends are caring for aging family members to some degree, so I believe this is something that many people are dealing with in silence. I hope these posts will be informative, helpful, and maybe even make you laugh. I have to laugh some times at the absurdity of some of the discussions I find myself in. Others force me to leave my mother's room so she doesn't see me cry. Other times I have to leave because she says something so hurtful that I get angry. It's not always easy to remember that she has no filter. She says what she thinks and sometimes it's awful.

My mother's name is Mary, which is important to this story.

For Christmas one of my friends, who is also named Mary crocheted an afghan for my mother. 

My mom: This is beautiful. Who made this?

Me: My friend, Mary.

My mom: Well, that should be easy to remember.

Ten minutes later...

My mom: This is beautiful. Who made this?

Me: My friend, Mary.

My mom: Well, that should be easy to remember.

It's a habit now, but it was hard to treat each interaction like it was the first time we'd talked about it. Each time -- even if it's the 10th time -- I have to act like this is the first time she's asked. It's not easy.

My mother and her care has become my world.  I want it to end. I want it to never end. 

(Posted Jan 6th, 2024)