It’s been a while since I’ve written, and I’ve missed it. Writing is therapeutic for me, a form of self-care. Over the last 7 months, I’ve sold my home and moved into a new home (a ranch, to accommodate mom if needed). I’ve had some health issues, role changes at my job, enjoyed respite as my brother and sister-in-law cared for mom, and placed mom into a Memory Care Facility ~ something I thought I’d lever do. Never say never, I guess. CHANGE.
Mom wanted to spend Christmas with my brother Scott and his family. They have a beautiful home and my sister-in-law Atchara does an amazing job with Christmas decorations, which mom loves. So they took her and graciously agreed to keep her for a few months to give me a break. I was beyond burned out, and desperately needed a physical and emotional break from mom, and I knew that moving to a new home would be easier without having to worry about her.
Mom had a great Christmas, and loved seeing her grandkids that she hadn’t seen in a while. Scott hired a live-in aide to provide care for mom around the clock, but they experienced the weariness that comes with caring for someone with dementia for a long period of time, and suggested we place mom in a facility. After much discussion and a review of her finances, we moved mom in a beautiful facility with a memory care unit. It was such a hard decision, and something I thought we’d never do. But at a facility, I can just be the daughter. And visit with mom (to the ability she is able to do that). I do not have to worry about giving medication, showering her, helping her to the bathroom, etc. It changes the dynamics of the relationship, in a good way.
The facility agreed to admit mom on a Saturday, so I wouldn’t need to have her spend a couple nights with me first, as I didn’t think I would be able to get her to leave my new home if she did. My brother, sister-in-law and mom met me at our normal rendezvous spot in PA. Even though we’d discussed it with her multiple times, mom did not understand what was happening when she got in the car with me. For most of the two-hour ride home she kept yelling out “Atchara help me!!” She thought I was kidnapping her. I tolerated it (barely) for an hour, then finally said “Mom! Do you see Atchara in the car? She is not here to help you right now. Please stop yelling.” Of course, that didn’t help, and it was a long ride home. Transitions are hard. For mom. For Lian. For persons who’ve experienced trauma. The challenge remains that the Alzheimer’s brain doesn’t retain things, so as many times as we had conversations, discussions, and prepared her, this move was a complete shock to mom the day it happened. And I feel bad about the fact that she was panicking – there is just no answer, that I can think of anyway, on helping to reduce transition anxiety when her brain doesn’t have the capacity to retain information.
Mom did settle into the facility nicely, after a short transition period. She couldn’t understand why I was always leaving without her. She also thinks it’s her house in Florida, which is ok. When I visit, she’ll say “Go get such-and-such out of the small bedroom upstairs.” Most of the times I visit, she starts crying and shares the same story: “They keep putting me out on the sidewalk and make me stand there for days. I have no food and no money. I’m scared and nobody comes to get me.” It must be absolutely heartbreaking to live with that hallucination as your reality. So the first few times I did what you should never do, and argued with her. “Mom, you think that is happening, but it’s not. You’re inside this beautiful facility.” And as we’ve previously established there is no point in arguing, but I didn’t want to agree with her. I can agree with her that the sky has purple polka dots, or that Pat Sajak is sending me money – there is no harm in that. But I’m not going to agree with her on a story like that, which I know isn’t true. I decided to talk to the director of the facility to see how to handle it. He told me to just tell her that I would look into it. She just needed reassurance I was caring for her. He told me she is always happy and never shares that story to the staff. So the next time I visited and she told the story, I said “Yep, I’m here to look into that for you mom,” and redirected the conversation. She dried her tears. Magic!
The other challenge for me, was leaving. When our visit was done, I’d say “OK mom, I have to leave now. I’ll see you in a couple days.” Tears flowed (hers, not mine 😊) and she would beg me to stay. It would take 10 minutes to leave as I didn’t want to leave her upset. One day when I went to visit her, the aide said something to the effect of “Great. She’s had a good day and now she’s going to cry all evening.” When I asked her to clarify she said that mom always gets upset when I leave. I don’t want to upset mom so that the aides have a hard time with her, but I’m also not going to stop visiting her. So back to the director’s office I went. He explained that people with Alzheimer’s don’t like the word goodbye. It means you’re leaving them. He said the next time I leave to just say something like “Mom, I’ve got to run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” Then leave, She will not remember you were even there a few minutes later, won’t remember you were going to the bathroom, and you eliminate all the angst of goodbye. Again, magic. That guy really is golden!
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