Our family has always loved to sing.
From the time I can remember my Mom, Dad, sister and I would huddle around a phone receiver on Christmas Eve calling family and friends singing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas." As our parents aged, my sister and I received a number of calls from people now singing to us. They didn't want the tradition to end.
Last year we started a new one. We're down to just six of us for Christmas eve dinner, my sister and her family, my Mom and I. We don't place calls anymore, but we do take time after dinner to sing carols. My mom just beams. Music is truly her favorite thing in life.
Blame it on the egg nog (okay wine), we decided to get crafty last year and assign each family member a section or two from the 12 Days of Christmas -- my Mom insisted on carrying out the prestigious "five golden rings" line.
We'd go around the room, each of us crooning out our "day", and each time we'd come to my Mom, she'd act surprised, then catch on that it was her turn and belt out "Five... Golden... HENS!" Every time! We'd laugh, remind her it's rings, she'd do a practice, "Five, Golden, Rings" then we'd start up a new round, the song carried it's way back to my Mom, she'd react in surprise and belt out yet again, "Five Golden HENS"!
This year the surprise would be on my sister and her family. Our caregiver bought my Mom the 12 Days of Christmas book. She's been practicing the entire thing over and over since Thanksgiving.
I couldn't wait for the new annual tradition to start last night. What a surprise my Mom would deliver. She's knows the entire song cold now.
We were each assigned a day, my Mom once again waited to be honored with the cherished "five golden rings" line. The song started up and my Mom actually joined in on all the days just as I expected, the lyrics wound their way around the room and ultimately came to my Mom for her big solo, she smiled a grin and launched into her lines: "Five.... Golden.... HENS"!!
Friday, December 25, 2009
The Jokes on Me!
Thinking my Mom needed a little dose of the spirit of giving, rather than just getting, I set up a little Christmas eve shopping expedition.
Together we constructed a list which included my sister, her husband and two girls, myself, two dogs and the cat. My Mom asked twice why she wasn't on the list. I promised repeatedly that she'd be receiving gifts, but in exchange she also had to buy for others.
I even offered to provide the money to buy the gifts, showing her a nice crisp twenty. I knew better than to give it to her, she'd never let go. Instead the deal was the bill would remain in my wallet until we hit the cash register.
The first choice was to head toward the dollar store -- I thought it would be a riot to see what she might choose for her clan and it would be right in her price range. I also held extreme concern that the selections might be too slim so close to Christmas which could ruin the whole idea. Instead we redirected toward Walgreen's. Surely they'd have something for everyone. And they did, much more than I expected.
My Mom got her hands on the handle of that shopping cart and just like Frosty when the hat was placed upon his head, began to come to life. Completely in the spirit of giving, my Mom ripped through that store, her selections spot on for each recipient, and, of course, way over the dollar store budget! (Keep in mind I had already made her "real" purchases, these were supposed to be for fun.)
Staring at her checklist she thought a coat might be nice for my sister. I explained that Walgreens probably wouldn't be the place for something like that, but over my shoulder she managed to spot a suitable back up gift, a super soft, beautiful light blue bathrobe. One aisle over, she broke into laughter as she choose a U of M "snuggie" for her son-in-law, then after bawking over makeup for her granddaughters, she instead sought out really cool bath kits. She had it all sewn up in less than a half hour. Complete with small toys for the dogs and cat.
We hit the check out where all the Christmas nick knacks caught her eye, including a pile of cheesy Santa hats. "C'mon," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "let's each get one and wear them all day!" She was practically Mrs. Claus by now.
I am soooo not a Santa hat type. I don't think I've ever worn one, and thought I never would.
"They're only 2.99," she continued her plea. By now she had hers half cocked on her head and offered another to me. How could I refuse?
I placed it over my pony tail and she howled. "You have the hook sticking out the top," she laughed. "You do too," I said. She laughed harder. The sales clerk rang up our order, which totalled at least four times the initial budget. Crumb, we should have gone to the dollar store, I thought to myself. Not for the reason you'd expect, not because of the dollar damage she tallied in such a short outing, but the silly hats. I really doubted the dollar store carried Santa hats. I wouldn't have been forced to wear one. Talk about a scrooge. I really wanted nothing to do with that hat, but she was right, it was only 2.99 -- pennies compared to the rest of her purchases. I let her throw them in the pile, even though I had no intention of wearing it outside the store.
The clerk took our money and cut the tags off our hats which my Mom, yes, insisted we wear out of the store. Okay, I'd leave it on one moment longer. No one seemed to be watching, except my Mom who was now a little jealous that I wore mine better than she did. She pulled down the passenger side mirror to give her hat a little tilt, and as she did, she began singing her traditional "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas..."
It was the very song she sang every year while decorating the house since the time we were small kids. Wow, what a throw back. It was awesome and well worth any minor humiliation of wearing a silly red hat. Funny how life can twist things around. I was trying to re-teach my Mom about the gift of giving, and in the end, she placed a hat on our heads that made me come to life with Christmas spirit.
Just as she wished, we wore those hats the rest of the day, singing carols all the way home!
Wearing them may even become a new Mom and Mary tradition.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Is Anything in Life Really Free?
My Mom loves junk mail. She could literally sit with a good offer and read it over and over again for an entire day. In fact, as I write this she is enthusiastically reading me an offer for a magazine subscription which includes a free garden issue. And... if we reply by November 10th, a free tote bag!
She reads the offer better than the announcer on any game show. Very convincing.
Her two favorite phrases to really play up when she comes across them, "that's right... you could win (fill in the blank depending on the offer)" and "call one, eight hundred (add numbers depending on the offer.)" She very deliberately enunciates each digit to ensure we don't mis-dial. They could literally hire her at a voice over agency.
She's on page two now, they've upped the ante -- if you send the preview card today you not only receive the garden issue and tote bag, but one "best ever issue" and four free special issues. "Well, can I get my tote bag today?" she just asked emphatically. I think she's finally figured out I hold the purse strings. I told her she needed to prove to me it's not a scam. Mistake! She just started reading the entire four page mailing piece. Again. From the top! She pauses after each section to say "what do you think of that?" Her way of luring me in. She's super impressed each time she notices that letter has her name on it. That for sure adds credibility. She just came across the tote bag offer for the 400th time and experienced the same joyful surprise as she did round one. "Wow! Are we getting all that?!" Followed by "I've never had a tote bag like that." Again, showmanship, purely trying to win me over.
During a recent business trip, our caregiver called and said my Mom wouldn't let up on trying to book a free lasik eye exam. Yep, I said, last week it was a storm door consultation (we live in a condo), and the week before that teeth whitening. Sneak the material away from her as soon as you can before the irritation becomes unbearable, I advised.
Sometimes I use the enthusiasm and enclosed response card as an opportunity to get her to work on her writing skills. I have her fill in the name and address section. Her hand does not cooperate with her brain very often, so I have to find several response cards from any kind of offer before we start to fill one in. She gets really worried or distraught if she makes a mistake, concerned it may jeopardize the offer. By having extras on hand we can keep trying to get it right.
Other times, she'll express concern over what day it is so she doesn't miss the deadline. On those occasions I grab a calendar and have her figure out how many days until the offer ends.
They're all great activities and help keep her mind sharp. She's cutting out the response card right now. I might actually let her send this one in. We'll enjoy the magazine and she is really over the top with that cheap little tote.
I can't help but think that allowing this indulgence flies in the face of the bits of wisdom she used to impart on me when I was young and wanted something for nothing -- which I think went ever so cleverly, "you can't get something for nothing." In this case, she keeps missing the part that says -- "all with your paid subscription." And the advertisers don't make it at all that clear exactly how much that is. She'd also put us off by telling us that whatever we wanted was "probably junk." Sometimes it's okay to break the rules and risk getting taken. My Mom also used to caution often that "there are no free rides in life." While I'm old enough now to know that's definitely true, I guarantee you that the ride from filling out the postpaid card to dropping it off at the mail box will be pretty fun! What more can you ask from life?
She reads the offer better than the announcer on any game show. Very convincing.
Her two favorite phrases to really play up when she comes across them, "that's right... you could win (fill in the blank depending on the offer)" and "call one, eight hundred (add numbers depending on the offer.)" She very deliberately enunciates each digit to ensure we don't mis-dial. They could literally hire her at a voice over agency.
She's on page two now, they've upped the ante -- if you send the preview card today you not only receive the garden issue and tote bag, but one "best ever issue" and four free special issues. "Well, can I get my tote bag today?" she just asked emphatically. I think she's finally figured out I hold the purse strings. I told her she needed to prove to me it's not a scam. Mistake! She just started reading the entire four page mailing piece. Again. From the top! She pauses after each section to say "what do you think of that?" Her way of luring me in. She's super impressed each time she notices that letter has her name on it. That for sure adds credibility. She just came across the tote bag offer for the 400th time and experienced the same joyful surprise as she did round one. "Wow! Are we getting all that?!" Followed by "I've never had a tote bag like that." Again, showmanship, purely trying to win me over.
During a recent business trip, our caregiver called and said my Mom wouldn't let up on trying to book a free lasik eye exam. Yep, I said, last week it was a storm door consultation (we live in a condo), and the week before that teeth whitening. Sneak the material away from her as soon as you can before the irritation becomes unbearable, I advised.
Sometimes I use the enthusiasm and enclosed response card as an opportunity to get her to work on her writing skills. I have her fill in the name and address section. Her hand does not cooperate with her brain very often, so I have to find several response cards from any kind of offer before we start to fill one in. She gets really worried or distraught if she makes a mistake, concerned it may jeopardize the offer. By having extras on hand we can keep trying to get it right.
Other times, she'll express concern over what day it is so she doesn't miss the deadline. On those occasions I grab a calendar and have her figure out how many days until the offer ends.
They're all great activities and help keep her mind sharp. She's cutting out the response card right now. I might actually let her send this one in. We'll enjoy the magazine and she is really over the top with that cheap little tote.
I can't help but think that allowing this indulgence flies in the face of the bits of wisdom she used to impart on me when I was young and wanted something for nothing -- which I think went ever so cleverly, "you can't get something for nothing." In this case, she keeps missing the part that says -- "all with your paid subscription." And the advertisers don't make it at all that clear exactly how much that is. She'd also put us off by telling us that whatever we wanted was "probably junk." Sometimes it's okay to break the rules and risk getting taken. My Mom also used to caution often that "there are no free rides in life." While I'm old enough now to know that's definitely true, I guarantee you that the ride from filling out the postpaid card to dropping it off at the mail box will be pretty fun! What more can you ask from life?
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Snippets from Tonight...
My Mom's been having a lot of difficulty remembering words for objects lately, so we've started playing a little game called "what's that."I point in rapid fire to things and she calls out "cup", "plate", "fork", "hat", "flowers"...
It's not her fault that she doesn't have the opportunity to use much vocabulary these days. I figure it's my job to help her retain key words for as long as possible.
I'm careful to approach the activity when she's in a playful mood and it won't hurt her feelings for being demeaning. Tonight during dinner I learned I also have to watch out for her creating her own vocabulary from the Land of Oz to compensate for her shortcomings.
She confidently told me tonight that the lamp was a "switzer" and her brand new reclining chair a "booglie." When I asked if she was sure the thing you sit on is called a booglie, she said, "c'mon, everyone knows that." I suggested that maybe it was a "chair", then she acted like I was a simpleton and said she would call it a "recliner." She pulled the tougher word out of thin air.
Same with "glasses" when under fire she called them "spectacles."
On a second note, Skinny Winnie ate a great dinner tonight, or so I thought. We had lasagna. Did I mention the dogs and cat love having my Mom live here? When I'm not looking, she evidently provides them with a bountiful buffet. (see attached photo, "Bug Kitty Busted". I thought only Garfield liked lasagna...)
Sunday, October 18, 2009
To Share ... or Not .
We were going to pay a quick visit to my sister and her daughters the other day. I stopped at a gas station on the way and ran in to buy two cheap packs of some type of fruity tooty gum for my Mom to give her granddaughters as a gift.
I sometimes think the girls are a little distant around my aging Mom and I'm not beyond bribery to try and bridge that gap.
I hopped back in the car with the two bright pink and yellow packages and handed them to my Mom, explaining that she could give them as a gift to the girls.
"That's exactly what I wanted," she said with a pout. Somehow she had transformed from 87 to 2 during my three minutes in the store.
"This is fruity gum, Mom. You don't even chew gum," I said.
"Yes I do." She now grew a little huffy. I couldn't hold back a laugh. She was pouting like a toddler and even trying to shed a few tears. My laughing really set her off.
"What? This is exactly what I wanted..." She was already holding the packs, but she scooped them in closer and pulled them possessively to her chest. There was NO way she was handing them off to anyone.
The hilarious interaction went on for a good few minutes. Her logic too silly to recall accurately. To end the stand off, I offered to buy her a pack of gum on the way home, which she mistook as right that minute.
"Well..." she uttered just one word in absolute defiance, now sounding more like a sassy teenager.
I pulled out, letting her, for the moment, think she could keep the gum she already had. It's one of those times Alzheimer's plays in your favor. By the time I hit the main road, all would likely be forgotten. My Mom is usually generous to a fault. When we were young everything went to her daughters first. That very night at dinner she offered me a bite of her main course and dessert. Fairly disgusting, but more in line with her normally generous heart than the present moment where a mutiny was about to erupt over bubble gum.
12-year-old Meghan ran out to the drive to greet us. I pried one pack free from her fingers and said "look what your Grandma got you!" Meghan grabbed the gum and gave my Mom a thank you hug. (See, these little dollar investments can really payoff!) Grandma was so thrilled with the smile and hug that she barely noticed the switcheroo when the gum transferred from her hand to Meghan's. She also still had the remaining pack to clutch.
As we entered the house, I saw my Mom tighten her grip on the gift. I warned 8-year-old Emily that Grandma may have a little difficulty handing over the surprise. My sister said the girls could share one pack and Mom could keep the other, but I insisted she needed to learn, or re-learn how to share.
"What, so she can remember it for a few minutes?" my sister asked. Nicely, not snotty. She's a mom herself and one of many that caution me constantly to pick my battles. (I also won't give in and let her wear white socks with black shoes. Not even in the house. Someday, from heaven, she'll thank me for that.)
To me, sharing was a war worth waging, but I proceeded with tact. Turning the gift giving into a game would surely work.
"Mom, didn't you get Emily something really special today??? I bet she's dying to see it."
My Mom's face lit up. She loves being the center of attention these days. This gave her a stage to unveil the surprise. She pulled her hand up from the table, hiding the packet under her palm and said to Emily, "Do you wonder what I have here?" She bought into the game one-thousand percent. "Do you think this surprise might be for you?" My Mom's face grew more and more animated and Emily giggled her head off in anticipation. We were all having a riot over the gum hand off. Until... the lead in to the silly surprise, the suspense, took so long to build that my Mom forgot who the recipient was. When she finally revealed the brightly colored pack of gum she proclaimed, "look what I got!"
We all burst into a whole new round of hysterics, including my Mom who loves a good time. "No Mom, that was supposed to be for Emily."
Emily now laughed as if she was being tickled to death. Meghan howled from the sidelines. Their Grandma was being super silly and they loved it. Ultimately, my Mom returned to being the amazing woman we all know and love as she finally, generously handed over the simple little gift to her granddaughter with pride. "Here, this is for you."
Emily grinned back at her Grandma with an ear to ear smile and reciprocated with a big hug.
I probably should be a little ashamed at admitting openly that I spent a dollar to generate a couple of genuine hugs. But when your heart is in the right place, it always works out. Not giving in to the toddler tantrum and coaching my Mom to overcome the dementia induced personality change, led to an amazing surprise of its own. The laughter we shared that day created a true bonding moment, a memory that will likely last a lifetime.
Sitting in the kitchen sharing a huge laugh with Grandma ... that's priceless.
I sometimes think the girls are a little distant around my aging Mom and I'm not beyond bribery to try and bridge that gap.
I hopped back in the car with the two bright pink and yellow packages and handed them to my Mom, explaining that she could give them as a gift to the girls.
"That's exactly what I wanted," she said with a pout. Somehow she had transformed from 87 to 2 during my three minutes in the store.
"This is fruity gum, Mom. You don't even chew gum," I said.
"Yes I do." She now grew a little huffy. I couldn't hold back a laugh. She was pouting like a toddler and even trying to shed a few tears. My laughing really set her off.
"What? This is exactly what I wanted..." She was already holding the packs, but she scooped them in closer and pulled them possessively to her chest. There was NO way she was handing them off to anyone.
The hilarious interaction went on for a good few minutes. Her logic too silly to recall accurately. To end the stand off, I offered to buy her a pack of gum on the way home, which she mistook as right that minute.
"Well..." she uttered just one word in absolute defiance, now sounding more like a sassy teenager.
I pulled out, letting her, for the moment, think she could keep the gum she already had. It's one of those times Alzheimer's plays in your favor. By the time I hit the main road, all would likely be forgotten. My Mom is usually generous to a fault. When we were young everything went to her daughters first. That very night at dinner she offered me a bite of her main course and dessert. Fairly disgusting, but more in line with her normally generous heart than the present moment where a mutiny was about to erupt over bubble gum.
12-year-old Meghan ran out to the drive to greet us. I pried one pack free from her fingers and said "look what your Grandma got you!" Meghan grabbed the gum and gave my Mom a thank you hug. (See, these little dollar investments can really payoff!) Grandma was so thrilled with the smile and hug that she barely noticed the switcheroo when the gum transferred from her hand to Meghan's. She also still had the remaining pack to clutch.
As we entered the house, I saw my Mom tighten her grip on the gift. I warned 8-year-old Emily that Grandma may have a little difficulty handing over the surprise. My sister said the girls could share one pack and Mom could keep the other, but I insisted she needed to learn, or re-learn how to share.
"What, so she can remember it for a few minutes?" my sister asked. Nicely, not snotty. She's a mom herself and one of many that caution me constantly to pick my battles. (I also won't give in and let her wear white socks with black shoes. Not even in the house. Someday, from heaven, she'll thank me for that.)
To me, sharing was a war worth waging, but I proceeded with tact. Turning the gift giving into a game would surely work.
"Mom, didn't you get Emily something really special today??? I bet she's dying to see it."
My Mom's face lit up. She loves being the center of attention these days. This gave her a stage to unveil the surprise. She pulled her hand up from the table, hiding the packet under her palm and said to Emily, "Do you wonder what I have here?" She bought into the game one-thousand percent. "Do you think this surprise might be for you?" My Mom's face grew more and more animated and Emily giggled her head off in anticipation. We were all having a riot over the gum hand off. Until... the lead in to the silly surprise, the suspense, took so long to build that my Mom forgot who the recipient was. When she finally revealed the brightly colored pack of gum she proclaimed, "look what I got!"
We all burst into a whole new round of hysterics, including my Mom who loves a good time. "No Mom, that was supposed to be for Emily."
Emily now laughed as if she was being tickled to death. Meghan howled from the sidelines. Their Grandma was being super silly and they loved it. Ultimately, my Mom returned to being the amazing woman we all know and love as she finally, generously handed over the simple little gift to her granddaughter with pride. "Here, this is for you."
Emily grinned back at her Grandma with an ear to ear smile and reciprocated with a big hug.
I probably should be a little ashamed at admitting openly that I spent a dollar to generate a couple of genuine hugs. But when your heart is in the right place, it always works out. Not giving in to the toddler tantrum and coaching my Mom to overcome the dementia induced personality change, led to an amazing surprise of its own. The laughter we shared that day created a true bonding moment, a memory that will likely last a lifetime.
Sitting in the kitchen sharing a huge laugh with Grandma ... that's priceless.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Great Escapes -- Yes, Plural!
We were at a Labor Day cook out this summer and one of my neighbors suggested getting some type of an ID bracelet or necklace for my Mom. She recounted the tale of getting the all too frightening call from the Sheriff's office while she was at work. Her Mom, also an Alzheimer's victim, took a walk one afternoon and couldn't find her way home. In this day and age no one neighbor could definitively identify the older woman, nor did they know the full name of her daughter, but several of them pulled together enough facts to help the Sheriff's department identify the hospital where the daughter worked. The deputy called human resources and asked how many of their nurses lived in this particular city and had a mother suffering from dementia. Luckily, the correct contact information was retrieved and mother and daughter were safely reunited.
I had two immediate responses to the story -- great idea and... my Mom is so lazy, she'd never get up off the couch to go for the walk in the first place. I routinely leave her home for an hour or two while I ride or run to the grocery store. She's literally in the exact same position as I left her when I get home. Even though she won't admit to her age, there are certain things about retirement she takes quite seriously. Lounging tops the list. (Just so I don't seem too reckless, I leave her with the phone and call periodically to check in on her.)
Nonetheless, I went on line the very next day to order some type of ID. Instinct yelped that it was a really good idea. The problem was, once it came down to actually placing the order, I waffled. We never got my Mom one of those emergency alert necklaces because she'd surely keep forgetting its purpose, play with it and accidentally alert emergency crews hourly until they'd discontinue the service. Keeping a necklace or bracelet in place didn't seem any more viable. So, I put the order on hold while I tried to concoct a solution.
Up until that point I had only lost her twice. If you could even use the term "lost". Once I was leading the front of a shopping cart at Kohl's while she pushed. I went to turn the corner and glanced back to see she was no longer at the helm. She had stopped to look at an outfit 100-feet back and I ambled along at her usual pace never noticing she wasn't with me. On the next occurrence I did the exact same thing, this time with her walker. We were at a county fair. She had stopped to oogle at a baby and I kept right on going with the cart. This time I had an audience, a long line of people waiting to buy corn dogs. A roar of laughter led me to turn around to once again notice she was missing. It turned out the crowd was laughing at me. Or rather at us, she played the whole deal up with theatrics, waving and yelling "Here I am! Over here!"
The latest incident wasn't so funny. I went for a very short errand and as I pulled up the boulevard heading toward home I saw a group of women gathered down the street on the sidewalk. I noticed one had on the exact sweatsuit my Mom had on earlier that day. I zeroed in a little closer and realized ... it was my Mom! Here's the crazy part, I didn't panic, not yet. She was laughing and interacting with the women and it took me back. She looked just like my very social Mom from 20 years ago. It was actually really touching. Then I noticed the looks on the other women's faces. Different story. Complete distress. I squealed the car up to the curb rolled down the window and playfully yelled "What are you doing all the way down here?!" My approach was to keep the mood light. Next I noticed the huge expanse of pavement that woman covered to reach that spot on the sidewalk (strange what the mind observes even during a would-be traumatic situation.) I was really impressed. She made it almost 2 city blocks and without her walker! Then I looked back at the stretch of cement and almost passed out. She also did it, thank God, without a fall. I can only credit Guardian Angels. There's no way she should have made it that far without falling and cracking her head open or breaking half the bones in her little frail body. Shaking like a leaf now, I jumped out of the car and raced to her aid. The delayed concern was too much (or far too little) for one of the woman. She began questioning who I was and told me I'd have to wait for the Sheriff's department. They'd probably want to question me, she said. In other words she was accusing me of being a bad mom and not ready to put my Mom back in my custody quite so easily.
Turns out the sheriff deputy's were great and my friends and family even better. My sister reminded me of the time she received a 6:40 am doorbell wake up call. A school bus driver asked if the 2-year-old standing on the porch was her daughter. My niece had unlocked the deadbolt and regular lock all on her own and went out for an early morning stroll.
I really appreciated the support, but the heebie jeebies over the escape grew throughout the night. The next morning I hit Babies R Us and bought childproof door locks and a baby gate. We're now on lock down. If I go out, my Mom's either left with a caregiver or back to riding shot gun. And even that level of supervision isn't always good enough these days.
The credit (I'm trying to keep it positive) goes to the adult day care program. Now that she attends regularly, she has a whole new level of energy. On the flip side, her brain hasn't quite figured out how to channel the increased level of stimulation. Particularly on the days she attends the center, she becomes an outright jumping bean and I have my hands full. She literally can't sit still.
She really seems to enjoy occasional trips to the barn, so I thought we could keep those on the agenda. Maybe not. With her new found energy, she began getting out of the car to come out to the ring to be part of the action. I tried explaining that she didn't like the smell of horses, that it was dangerous and reminded her that she had always enjoyed just watching, she really wasn't ready to actually ride. Then, in case she didn't understand my logic, I took matters into my own hands and followed the brilliant advice of a good friend. I began placing her in the back seat.
I told her it was like a limo -- lots of room, an armrest for her drink and treats, even a reclining seat back. The truth was, it had childproof locks. They worked great, once or twice. Until she decided to crawl out the window. She was quite a Tom Boy as a kid. Luckily, the alarm sounded and I ran over before she had much more than her head poking out the window. She said she just wanted to say "hi." Satisfied with a little attention, she went back to reading and I went back to my horse. Ten minutes later the alarm sounded again. I ran back over and couldn't believe my eyes. She evidently remembered the window trick didn't work, this time she was heading out the sunroof! She was standing, or should I say teetering, on the back seat, reaching her right foot toward the center console, where I surmised she planned to hoist her bony body up and out the sunroof. (Or, in an even scarier scenario, we aren't positive she wasn't trying to slide into the driver's seat.) Either way, she was on the move and I once again found myself with visions of her cracking her head open. Even when I reached her side, she was far from being in the clear from serious injury. Easing her back down into the seat safely was no easy task. It's a 3-foot drop from the top of the console to the floor of the back seat. She's far from stable.
It was time to pack it in. I was a little frustrated, but held no serious hard feelings. I wasn't trying to ride at any cost. Up until this point, she really had enjoyed coming to the barn as a spectator sport. Now that I think about it, my once super active Mom has been reduced to mere spectator status in general since dementia crawled into her life almost 10 years ago. How cool that she now wants to go back to participating. The problem is going to be finding the right time and place. I don't want to encourage any more great escapes. I'm already making sure she has plenty of activities of her own to keep her busy and when I need my own escape from the burdens of caregiving, I pledge to find a SAFE way to keep her occupied.
I had two immediate responses to the story -- great idea and... my Mom is so lazy, she'd never get up off the couch to go for the walk in the first place. I routinely leave her home for an hour or two while I ride or run to the grocery store. She's literally in the exact same position as I left her when I get home. Even though she won't admit to her age, there are certain things about retirement she takes quite seriously. Lounging tops the list. (Just so I don't seem too reckless, I leave her with the phone and call periodically to check in on her.)
Nonetheless, I went on line the very next day to order some type of ID. Instinct yelped that it was a really good idea. The problem was, once it came down to actually placing the order, I waffled. We never got my Mom one of those emergency alert necklaces because she'd surely keep forgetting its purpose, play with it and accidentally alert emergency crews hourly until they'd discontinue the service. Keeping a necklace or bracelet in place didn't seem any more viable. So, I put the order on hold while I tried to concoct a solution.
Up until that point I had only lost her twice. If you could even use the term "lost". Once I was leading the front of a shopping cart at Kohl's while she pushed. I went to turn the corner and glanced back to see she was no longer at the helm. She had stopped to look at an outfit 100-feet back and I ambled along at her usual pace never noticing she wasn't with me. On the next occurrence I did the exact same thing, this time with her walker. We were at a county fair. She had stopped to oogle at a baby and I kept right on going with the cart. This time I had an audience, a long line of people waiting to buy corn dogs. A roar of laughter led me to turn around to once again notice she was missing. It turned out the crowd was laughing at me. Or rather at us, she played the whole deal up with theatrics, waving and yelling "Here I am! Over here!"
The latest incident wasn't so funny. I went for a very short errand and as I pulled up the boulevard heading toward home I saw a group of women gathered down the street on the sidewalk. I noticed one had on the exact sweatsuit my Mom had on earlier that day. I zeroed in a little closer and realized ... it was my Mom! Here's the crazy part, I didn't panic, not yet. She was laughing and interacting with the women and it took me back. She looked just like my very social Mom from 20 years ago. It was actually really touching. Then I noticed the looks on the other women's faces. Different story. Complete distress. I squealed the car up to the curb rolled down the window and playfully yelled "What are you doing all the way down here?!" My approach was to keep the mood light. Next I noticed the huge expanse of pavement that woman covered to reach that spot on the sidewalk (strange what the mind observes even during a would-be traumatic situation.) I was really impressed. She made it almost 2 city blocks and without her walker! Then I looked back at the stretch of cement and almost passed out. She also did it, thank God, without a fall. I can only credit Guardian Angels. There's no way she should have made it that far without falling and cracking her head open or breaking half the bones in her little frail body. Shaking like a leaf now, I jumped out of the car and raced to her aid. The delayed concern was too much (or far too little) for one of the woman. She began questioning who I was and told me I'd have to wait for the Sheriff's department. They'd probably want to question me, she said. In other words she was accusing me of being a bad mom and not ready to put my Mom back in my custody quite so easily.
Turns out the sheriff deputy's were great and my friends and family even better. My sister reminded me of the time she received a 6:40 am doorbell wake up call. A school bus driver asked if the 2-year-old standing on the porch was her daughter. My niece had unlocked the deadbolt and regular lock all on her own and went out for an early morning stroll.
I really appreciated the support, but the heebie jeebies over the escape grew throughout the night. The next morning I hit Babies R Us and bought childproof door locks and a baby gate. We're now on lock down. If I go out, my Mom's either left with a caregiver or back to riding shot gun. And even that level of supervision isn't always good enough these days.
The credit (I'm trying to keep it positive) goes to the adult day care program. Now that she attends regularly, she has a whole new level of energy. On the flip side, her brain hasn't quite figured out how to channel the increased level of stimulation. Particularly on the days she attends the center, she becomes an outright jumping bean and I have my hands full. She literally can't sit still.
She really seems to enjoy occasional trips to the barn, so I thought we could keep those on the agenda. Maybe not. With her new found energy, she began getting out of the car to come out to the ring to be part of the action. I tried explaining that she didn't like the smell of horses, that it was dangerous and reminded her that she had always enjoyed just watching, she really wasn't ready to actually ride. Then, in case she didn't understand my logic, I took matters into my own hands and followed the brilliant advice of a good friend. I began placing her in the back seat.
I told her it was like a limo -- lots of room, an armrest for her drink and treats, even a reclining seat back. The truth was, it had childproof locks. They worked great, once or twice. Until she decided to crawl out the window. She was quite a Tom Boy as a kid. Luckily, the alarm sounded and I ran over before she had much more than her head poking out the window. She said she just wanted to say "hi." Satisfied with a little attention, she went back to reading and I went back to my horse. Ten minutes later the alarm sounded again. I ran back over and couldn't believe my eyes. She evidently remembered the window trick didn't work, this time she was heading out the sunroof! She was standing, or should I say teetering, on the back seat, reaching her right foot toward the center console, where I surmised she planned to hoist her bony body up and out the sunroof. (Or, in an even scarier scenario, we aren't positive she wasn't trying to slide into the driver's seat.) Either way, she was on the move and I once again found myself with visions of her cracking her head open. Even when I reached her side, she was far from being in the clear from serious injury. Easing her back down into the seat safely was no easy task. It's a 3-foot drop from the top of the console to the floor of the back seat. She's far from stable.
It was time to pack it in. I was a little frustrated, but held no serious hard feelings. I wasn't trying to ride at any cost. Up until this point, she really had enjoyed coming to the barn as a spectator sport. Now that I think about it, my once super active Mom has been reduced to mere spectator status in general since dementia crawled into her life almost 10 years ago. How cool that she now wants to go back to participating. The problem is going to be finding the right time and place. I don't want to encourage any more great escapes. I'm already making sure she has plenty of activities of her own to keep her busy and when I need my own escape from the burdens of caregiving, I pledge to find a SAFE way to keep her occupied.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Revisiting the Best of Childhood!
My Mom's new pet name for me is Amelia Bedelia. For those of you who don't know, she's a daffy character from "An I Can Read" children's book series. Particularly if I ask her to do something she doesn't want to do, I hear "Okay Amelia Bedelia," sarcastically in response. Isn't it crazy she can remember a name like that from total recall?! Maybe not, if you consider she has probably read the book about 142 times since July.It started during a trip to my sister's house this summer. My Mom is a voracious reader, but sadly with dementia, long-term comprehension just isn't there. My sister gave her a few children's books and other than a little initial embarrassment, they've proven to be a big hit. I'd personally risk damaging her dignity just a bit to see the joy on her face as she laughs out loud and even repeats funny lines as she reads now. It really beats coming into a room to find her back to reading the copy right page on an adult novel for the 10th or 12th time. (Authors and illustrators would be pleased to know she may not get caught up on the copyright page anymore, but she still reads every single word from cover to cover, including the full title page as many times as it appears.)
I'm not only a writer, but I love to read too. Why then, did it take me until tonight to realize the gold mine of an opportunity we have here?! We can go back and read ALL of my favorite childhood classics! Here I've had her in the big print section of the library and book store... We're moving over to the children's section toot sweet. (meaning tomorrow) I can't wait! The epiphany came after visiting a literary agent's blog site tonight. She asked for requests from readers of favorite children's books to read on vacation.
The list was sooooo awesome, I'll share a few: Pippi Longstocking (okay, that came from me. I dressed up as Pippi for Halloween in 3rd grade and even though the costume was brilliant -- right down to a stuffed monkey on my shoulder, perched right below braids held high with wire, no one knew who I was ... the plight of a bookworm! I was Laura Ingalls in 2nd grade. That year everyone said "Oh, a prairie girl." They didn't have a clue on that one either.) Ramona the Pest, Anne of Green Gables, James and the Giant Peach, one that's new to me: The Return of the Twelves by Pauline Clark, and one that I think is dear to me: Magic Elizabeth by Norm Kassirer (That's if my own memory isn't failing. I ordered this tonight -- can't wait to find out if the magical escape is just as exciting 30+ years later!)
Oh, and I'm adding Ben and Me by Robert Lawson -- hearing all about Ben Franklin from the perspective of a mouse just blew me away in second grade. I'm sure my Mom, as she struggles to survive in a household with two dogs, a cat and two horses, will find some kind of humor in that one.
I'll end with my Mom's all time favorites. Absolute number one is Little Women, followed by The Bobbsey Twins, and when we came along, Are You There God It's Me Margaret by Judy Bloom. Can you picture my late in life, flat as a pancake, grey haired mother recreating "I must, I must, I must increase my bust," for anyone that would watch and listen?
Especially given her let's call it "small stature" in the chest area, she just thought that was the funniest line ever when the book came out. Even more than the national craze it generated. I was originally thinking at the age of 87 I'd leave the coming into womanhood book off the list, but she's still rather obsessed with being less than endowed, so what the heck, bring it on! Let's see if that line still strikes her funny. And if it does, she can recite it with full arm motions and all as much as she wants -- in my opinion, it's never too late to try!
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