Archive for January 28th, 2013|Daily archive page

Many moods

I spent more than an hour with Mom a week ago, visiting her on the MLK holiday. I arrived about half an hour before lunch, thinking I would slip away when she started eating. It just didn’t quite work out that way. And it was fun to be with her, but also complicated at times.

She was pleasant enough when I arrived. We walked around the program area, holding hands most of the time. But she showed just tiny hints of distress from time to time. We got stuck in a hallway, looking out at the snowy courtyard. I talked about how cold it was, but that this outdoor area would be a nice place to walk around once the weather is warm again. “I want to go home,” she said. She really never says this. And because so much of what she says makes no sense, I didn’t take this seriously as a comment that actually meant she wanted to be somewhere else. “This is home,” I said, and we started walking again.

I think she might have been tired. And at the same time, having a restless day. Because I worried that she wasn’t having a good day, I started rubbing her back as we walked. She wriggled in the opposite direction and pushed my hand away. No big deal, I thought, and we just walked some more. I followed her lead from then on, holding hands only when she took mine. We found ourselves in that same hallway, looking at the courtyard again. This time, Mom said, “I love you.” And gave me a big smooch.

Since it was almost lunchtime, I coaxed Mom to settle into a seat at a table. I got a bib and wrapped it around her neck and then went looking for her tray in the cart. I hadn’t been there at mealtime in quite awhile, but in the past Mom’s tray was always on the first of two carts that arrive at noon. A nurse told me where to look, and I shifted a few trays, spilling some juice on one of them. Which made me flustered. I took it out and got a bib to mop up the spill. A volunteer who works lunches three times a week helped me clean it up. I sensed she was just a little irritated. I then pulled some trays out and put them on top of the cart in my continued pursuit of her tray. The volunteer told me it was confusing to her to have those trays put on top of the cart. I decided to give up.

In the meantime, Mom had gotten up and started walking around. I coaxed her back to her seat, again. The nurse sensed my frustration and gave me a tray for Mom, swapping with another resident who would receive Mom’s tray. I appreciated that, because I was beginning to feel like a bother, when I was trying to help. This is a common feeling I get when I try to help around the Alz center, even after 3 1/2 years.

The main dish was tuna-noodle casserole – something that the old Mom would never have eaten. But at this meal, Mom dug in, with her fingers. I sat back and watched her, and told her she was doing an excellent job. She ate every bite of that casserole, and also finished her steamed vegetables. She took a few bites of her bread. I offered her some pistachio ice cream, but she wasn’t particularly interested. She enjoyed a big swig of water. I cleaned her hands with her bib – she laughed when I did this; I wonder if it tickled. And then we set off for another walk.

We wandered close to a couch where Mr. Beard, her sometime boyfriend, was deeply asleep. She sat for a moment in a nearby chair, and then stood again. I encouraged her to find a place to lie down, thinking she could use a nap. Once she settled onto a couch, her knees bent and her head resting on the arm, I kissed her goodbye and said, “Sweet dreams.”

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