Category: Vascular Dementia

Slowly, I am learning that the silences between my mother and me aren’t as awkward anymore when we are together. Some days when we are together, I ramble on about all of the things going on in my life. Some days we sit together and don’t say a word. Lately just having her close by is enough.

A few weeks ago, right before I picked my mother up for an appointment, I heard the song, “Blank Stares” by Jay Allen on the radio in my car which always made me wonder where exactly my mother’s mind would go during those moments. I dropped mom off at the front door of her doctor’s office and directed her to sit on the bench while I parked the car. When I got to the front entrance, I saw my mother quietly sitting in between two people on the bench hugging her purse on her lap. She looked up at me with the most peaceful, beautiful smile I had seen in years, but she didn’t move to follow me. Luckily, we were early for the appointment, so I moved off to the side to watch her. No one else who passed by her received the warm smile that I had just received. Eventually, she looked my way and walked over to me.

That moment was a gift. To see her smile at me with such kindness was something the Lord gave me to answer my question about where my mother goes, and it spoke very loudly to me about her character. It also spoke about who I still was to her. That even though at the time she didn’t recognize me as her daughter, she recognized something in me that was familiar enough to garner such a beautiful reaction. The connection that we made that day was only for a split second, but it was enough for me to cherish forever. In that golden moment of silence, I connected right to my mother’s heart as if I was still in her womb hearing her heart beat.

I called mom with two weeks left until the deadline to find the paperwork I needed to submit for a tax exemption. She told me that she would look for it and call me back. I waited until the next morning to ask her if she found the documents when I picked her up for an appointment.

ME: Did you happen to find that paperwork I asked you about last night?

MOM: Nope.

ME: Nope, you didn’t find it. Nope, you didn’t look for it. Which one?

MOM: Nope, they never sent me the documents. 

ME: Okay, I will find another way to get the information.

MOM: Good Luck with that.

After I dropped mom off at her appointment, I went back to her house to find the tax documents. As I sat behind the desk she formerly used to transcribe notes and type papers for college students, I looked around at all of the notes she had left herself, all of the pictures she had hung, and all of the reference materials she used throughout her working years. This woman sat behind her desk each day for work, to write a card out to an ailing friend or birthday or anniversary, to pay her bills, and to update the calendar that she relied on so heavily. She sat in this office until one or more of her eight grandchildren was dropped off for her to look after, or she had to shut down her computer to attend a school or sporting event.  The calendar over her desk was filled with events, lunches, birthdates, anniversaries, and graduations. She had mementos and creations from her grandchildren all over the room including a picture drawn on an empty toilet paper role right next to the stack of documents that I had asked her find for me.

My guess is that when she was looking for the documents for me, her brain decided it would be more fun to take a detour down memory lane. I can’t say that I blame her; she had a beautiful life…

Mom: Where is my hairdresser located?

Me: Well, you have been going to a couple of different women. Why? Do you have an appointment?

Mom: Yes, but I can’t find her shop.

I give her directions and tell her to write them down because her friend is taking her to get her hair done.

Me: I have some errands to run, but I can meet you there if you want.

Mom: Okay.

I meet mom and tell her friend that I can take her home when she is done. The shop owner is an old friend of mine, and she smiles even though my mother is a quite a bit late for the cut and color appointment. My friend, Lisa, lets me know that mom will be about an hour, so I should feel free to run errands. I head to the bank and then to a coffee shop to get a coffee, a tea for mom, and a hot chocolate for Lisa being so kind to us.

When I go back, Lisa is finishing up mom’s cut, and they are chatting away like old friends. I join in the conversation as Lisa dries my mother’s hair. We all talk and laugh for the next half hour. Lisa fusses with mom’s hair as if my mother was going some place important instead of just back home.

Lisa: Do you want some spray Anne Marie?

Mom: Sure might as well. 

The interesting part of this day was watching my mother interact with Lisa. You really wouldn’t know she had memory issues if you didn’t know. Lisa treated my mother like she treats everyone…with kindness and a professionalism that would make you believe that my mother was a queen.

Mom: Now would you mind coming in for a little while to help me look for the rings I lost? Oh and take a look at my check book because I think something is wrong.

Back to reality…

Today mom called me to help her put one of her blinds back up in the window. She was doing her fall cleaning, and one blind was giving her a hard time by repeatedly falling off of the brackets. She also needed someone to put batteries in the two smoke alarms which she had taken out of commission because they kept “tweeting” for a new battery.

I told her that I would be down sometime in the afternoon to help her with those items; all the while hoping that my brother would stop in first and fix all of the issues, so that I could just visit with her. When I got there, my mom was standing in the doorway with a huge smile on her face. She was dripping with sweat and had her hair tucked messily behind her ears, but her smile seemed peaceful and happy.

MOM: I was looking out the window and saw my beautiful car pull up, and I said to myself, “hey, that’s my beautiful car!” 

ME: Yes it is! In all its splendor and glory. Isn’t she pretty. And look at YOU working so hard today!

MOM: Oh yes I have been! Come in and see what I have been doing all day.

Mom had been cleaning everywhere. I could smell the cleaning solution and her furniture was all over the room, so she could get access to the blinds. I remembered back to my childhood when she would clean like this twice a year. I fixed the blind which she had tried to install upside down, put the batteries in the smoke alarms, and told her to take a short break but keep up the good work! She smiled and kissed me good-bye.

Every time I left her house, I had mixed emotions. I was angry because my father died too young and left her, and I was sad for the same reason. I yelled at dad from the comfort of mom’s beautiful car as I drove away from the house she shared with him for over 37 years. Through tears and after a fit of anger directed at my father for dying, I began laughing hysterically as I realized it was fruitless to harass a dead man. I knew this to be true because in my mind’s eye, I could see my father smiling and saying, “it’s all going to be okay; I promise.”

On Tuesday, mom called me to ask my opinion regarding her signing up for an automobile extended warranty plan. This question was based on a notice that she received in the mail pressuring her to purchase this “protection” for her car before it expired. Here is our conversation:

MOM:  Hi Patti, I have a question for you. 

ME: Ask away.

MOM: Do you know anything about this extended warranty company (she tells me the name)?

ME: An extended warranty on what?

MOM: My car. It says that I only have five days left to add a plan to cover any repairs on my car over the next 6 years. 

ME: Well, your car is a 3 year lease (not to mention that you no longer drive due to your vascular dementia). My guess is that it’s a scam, but I will check it out for you. 

MOM: Darn! I already signed up for it. 

ME: Not a problem, I will be over to cancel it for you this afternoon.

As I realized early in mom’s diagnosis, it is better to calmly address and rectify the situation, than yell and scream about why someone who doesn’t own her car, can no longer drive, and whose lease is up in a year, would sign up for a $2,500 extended warranty plan.

Note to self: come up with a way to filter, better yet, prevent her from getting junk mail.

via

Daily Prompt: Lollipop

On one of my multiple weekly trips to the supermarket, I was in a zombie-like state of brain melt due to the death of our central air unit. In the “seasonal items” isle, I found myself staring at a bag of lollipops for an excessively long period of time. Staring at the bag, I thought about spending almost all of my summer vacations sleeping over at my grandparent’s flat, hanging out on their stoop, drinking lemonade and sucking on lollipops. I called them the simple days where my siblings and I knew the routines of all the neighbors just as well as we knew our own. Every morning, we knew we would smell the coffee brewing in our bedroom which was just off of the kitchen. Phyllis (my grandparent’s landlord) was humming to the radio and going about her morning routine in the flat above us. At about 10 am, we would see Jane hanging her whites out on the line to dry causing us to chuckle at the sight of her husband’s undies and her utilitarian bras. Right before noon, my grandfather would wait at the front window for George and his snooty poodle, Princess, to walk by, so he could bark at them which usually sent Princess into a fit of crazy tangling George in her leash. My brother and I would roll on the ground in a fit of laughter until my grandmother caught us and yelled at my grandfather to “leave poor George alone” or she would cause us bodily harm.

I smiled as I stared at those pops.

So I bought the lollipops; the memories were free.