Open Door Healing

I guess no one really does. I had taken mom to lunch, and when we got back to her place, she kept going on and on how one of the housekeepers had taken her church night lights. She said she had put them on her bathroom counter in the morning and when she came back into her room they were gone. She said before she had one in the bathroom and one on the kitchen counter. I pretty much know everything in her apartment and I told her I didn’t ever remember seeing them. I started looking for them, in drawers, boxes etc. She then asked me if when I came, did I move things? Like, her little trash bags from her cart to the bathroom closet. She said “they”, the housekeepers kept moving her stuff. I tried to explain to her that the housekeepers were not going to do any more work than they absolutely had to (which she has complained before they don’t do a enough), and they wouldn’t even think of moving her things. She kept on. Then I lost it. I told her, “Mom, this is part of the disease, you think things have been moved, or you move things and forget that you did.” “Oh no, I didn’t move anything.” In exasperation I shouted, “Mom! I read the book! This is what happens! You didn’t read the book I gave you!” It was a book on Alzheimer’s I gave to her last year so she could understand what was going on with my step-dad, and also herself. And of course she didn’t read it. I took a deep breath. She then said, “Never mind, I guess they were not something they could easily put in their pockets and walk away with.” What she was describing sounded something like a Christmas decoration. The lines are thinning so much these with her. She then asked if I wanted to sit down and have a glass of wine with her. Sure mom, then I need to be heading out. We were sitting there and she starts talking about her cat, Cali, and how her cat is 17 years old. She was given the cat on May 16th of this year when another resident at the assisted living where she lives was moved to Healthcare. She then said, “So I’ve been here a year right?, so Cali would be 18, not 17.” I replied, “No, you’ve been here 2 years, and why would that make a difference in Cali’s age?” “Well, that would mean she is 19 if I’ve been here 2 years.” “No mom, Cali is 17.” “No, they told me she was 17 when I moved into this apartment.” “Why would they even tell you about Cali? She lived with the other lady then.” “Oh no, Cali came with the apartment, that’s why I picked this one, because it came with a cat.” I took a deep breath and said, “Ok mom, I’m just going to drink my wine.” No use in arguing with her, she’s already made up a new story, and it’s the one she’s sticking to. There were several other situations that happened that I just had to let go. I did talk to the head nurse about mom’s declining memory and they are upping her memory medication from 5 to 10mg. Yesterday also was the 1st day I heard her raise her voice and get angry about something, she was complaining about the a/c, first it was too cold, so we raised the temperature, and then it was too hot, and she just wanted it fixed so it didn’t blow cold air, and even though I tried to explain to her that is how a/c’s work, she wanted a “professional” to come in and fix it.

While looking for her church night lights, I was going through her drawers. She has so much stuff. Her bottom dresser drawer is filled with totes. Some have been given to her as gifts, some came in the mail for her to send donations for, and maybe one or two she bought. She also has a stack in her closet. I thought about taking a few, but who knows which ones she remembers and which ones she does not. And then the thought came, I’m going to need those totes to put stuff in when she passes. This morning I started clearing out my office, and noticed several totes hanging on the doorknobs of the closet. I told myself, if I expect her to release some of her totes, I need to release some of mine. Some were gifts, and honestly, I would never use them, because, well, they are not my style. I was able to release two, both filled with the plethora of colored pencils I have acquired, some never opened and the same with markers and books I have read that I know I will not read again to be taken to the local Goodwill.

I listened to a meditation today that said something to the point that what most exasperates us in other people, are the parts of ourselves that we cannot come to terms with. Oh joy. And the journey continues.