My 95-year-old father moved back to assisted living from the skilled nursing center. The head of nursing in the nursing center said, "He's amazing. His spirit and will to live is keeping his body working long past its ability to do so."
How does that work? And where can I get some of that to apply to all the things I mean to get done every day but don't?
I'm very thankful for every day my father lives. His mind is sharp and he's still funny.
The bad news is that they are bringing in hospice care for my 95-year-old mother, who has had Alzheimer's for nine years. They said she is entering the "end of life process" of this disease. She won't eat, is losing weight and the appetite stimulants and other measures have quit working. I have been grieving the loss of this completely loving soul and my dear mother for years. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't want to call her and ask her something. Or just hear her sweet voice. You'd think I'd be ready to let her go, but what I really want is to have her back.
Her quality of life has been terrible for some time. This is a cruel disease, far worse than cancer. I had no idea Alzheimer's was this bad. She deserves to be set free.
I think most families who have a loved one with Alzheimer's do what we do when visiting, which is the terrible questioning of the patient. "Hi, Mama! Do you know who this is?" We do it for ourselves, we want to be remembered. We want to know how she is doing that day (sometimes she knows us, sometimes she doesn't). The days she doesn't know my father are devastating to him. It's a lose-lose "game," unless they give the right answer. Even so, I think it puts pressure on an already lost and anxious person. I wish I could get him to stop. I wish I could remember not to start. On my good days, I start by telling her who I am and telling her who Lily and my father are. She smiles. You can't tell if any of this has registered. But at least we didn't make her feel bad.
Last Sunday she gave no answers, though she did smile eventually. Then she looked at us all and challenged, "Tell me who I am."
You are my mother, the beautiful soul who loved me with unconditional love. When the time comes, I hope I will love you enough to let you go.
Anne, I'm so sorry this time is approaching for your mother and your whole family.
Posted by: Anwyn | November 03, 2007 at 12:52 PM