Things Mom said to me today

We had lunch at Bob Evans. I had promised I would take her out before I left for vacation, and today was really the only possible day. I didn’t write anything down, but the things she said were memorable. It was an odd mixture today. She seemed so confused at first, perhaps because she had just woken from a nap. Before we left for the restaurant, she was carrying around a pair of socks in the hallway, so we went back in her apartment to put on the socks. And I combed her hair. She had bed head. She had on the pink striped T-shirt that I had put in her laundry basket, dirty, on Sunday. Plus pink pants and pink Crocs. And a dark floral jacket.

As the meal wore on, she had a few moments of what seemed like lucidity, or at least something closer to that than to total confusion. I’m wondering if her head is clearing a little with the reduced dose of the antipsychotic. She didn’t seem depressed or fretful. But when she had trouble remembering what she wanted to say, or started something but couldn’t finish, she showed frustration. Sometimes with a laugh, sometimes not. And she seemed to feel pressure to converse. I tried to ease her mind about that and just be chatty. And I reminded her that I would be away for a few days, and then I’d come back and everything would be normal again. And that soon my sister will visit, and we’ll go to the zoo.

Sprinkled throughout lunch, during our trip back to her facility, and once we were back there, she said these things:

“I’m kind of big.”

“I am useless.”

“I feel like I’m half dead.”

“My brain doesn’t seem to work the way it should.”

“Have you noticed any change in me? I mean really, have you?” (To which I replied, “You seem to worry about the cat more than you used to.”)

“Keep in touch while you’re out there traveling.”

“I’m getting sick of the games.” (I think this meant bingo and/or activities)

“You have such nice skin.”

“How old am I?” (I told her she’s 71)

“I’m old.”

“I spend a lot of time with the cat.”

“You’ve changed my life. Things have been so much better since I met you.”

“Do you like that woman’s hair?”

“Does Patrick (husband) like his job?”

“You’re an angel.”

Things she did:

Tried to get out of the car without first releasing the seat belt.

Put her coffee spoon into the cream pitcher and stirred.

Stirred her coffee with her fork after eating, depositing a green onion into her coffee cup.

Couldn’t cut a large piece of meat but kept observing how big it was. Didn’t ask for help but accepted my help when I finally cut it for her.

Kept her napkin on the table, off to the side, deliberately, rather than in her lap or close to her plate.

During this particular outing, I felt choked up from time to time. Even worse for me than her fretting is my observation of any kind of frustration on her part, I realized. I think I cannot win in this regard. Lately, it has been one or the other.

2 comments so far

  1. nauri on

    I feel for you! My Parents both have Alzheimer’s, one further along than the other. Watching as they get confused or frustrated is heartbreaking. Choking up… losing it on the drive home… losing it on the drive there! There are so many songs I just can’t handle hearing anymore.

  2. momsbrain on

    I’m so sorry to hear this about both of your parents. I cannot imagine that. Thank you for visiting. I hope you have some support…

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