Passengers in time

The reason I don’t like talking about this is because it is not really about me. It’s about Mom, and there are conceivably people who will read this who know her, so I’m hesitant. However, I do feel it. It’s a part of my life too. And, it might help someone.

Mom has been having some memory issues. Her mother had Alzheimer’s, and one of her sisters does now, so there is that risk. Some testing has indicated that she does not specifically have that, but a cognition test put her right at the borderline for having some dementia.

She doesn’t forget herself. Like, with her sister, Giovanna has periods of just seeming far away, and then when she is there she keeps forgetting where she is and where she lives. Because of that, she has a tendency to wander away from her apartment, which is scary for everyone. Sometimes she does not recognize her husband. Also, she forgets to clean, which is so unlike her. She is probably going to have to be put into a nursing home just for safety.

Mom has not been doing any of that; she just has a hard time taking in new information. I think a lot of it is that she does not pay attention. She asks one question, but instead of listening for the answer she is thinking about the other things she needs to do, and to ask, and so she will ask that one question five times.

The really frustrating thing is that sometimes she will get false information in her head. I think the sees something that she is not sure about, so she tries to figure out how it happened, and she constructs an explanation that is wrong, and very hard to get out of her head.

Still, she can get some things in her head, and I think if she could make herself focus more, she would do better. That’s why I want her to take tai chi; I think it will help her be present in the moment, instead of trying to pin down all future and potential moments. I am breaking down her resistance to tai chi, but it took me six months just to get her to try Indian food.

So there is a lot of repeating, and I am fairly patient with that. There are other things that are worse, like getting ready for this trip. She would forget we were going, and panic, and I would have to convince her over and over again that various things would be fine, or were covered, and that gets exhausting. Because this was extra stress, that was extra work, and no small part of my getting worn down. Still, at least she knew who she was.

The time in transit was very hard anyway, but I guess the travel itself was disorienting. She kept forgetting where we were and where we were going and where we had been. She said we were taking a really roundabout route, but then I found that she thought we had been in Canada, and that we were going home, or that we would see the dogs when we landed, when we were just getting to Verona.

That actually lasted through the trip, having to remind her which day it was, and which day things would happen, and that she did not have any clothes in her carryon, and that I did not have any moisturizer to lend her, and on through the trip home.

The worst part happened on the trip out though. It was during the taxi on the last flight, and she said something about going home and I was reminding her that we weren’t yet, and she was confused about where we lived, so I told her. She looked at me like I was teasing her. “I don’t live in Aloha, Oregon.” And I nearly started to cry.

And then the plane took off into the air, and it startled her and I reached for her hand, and a minute later she said, “I know I live in Oregon” and she really started to enjoy the flight. There were other reminders and confused moments, but that was the worst.

I think part of the problem was that in addition to the usual stresses, both places are home. We were leaving where she lives for where she grew up, and her children for her siblings, so maybe some confusion is natural. She’s doing pretty well now.

Still, hearing that, and then seeing Giovanna and how she has changed, and how others have declined, there was a lot of sadness. Things aren’t the way they used to be, and there’s still a lot of good, but there’s loss too.

And there’s some dread too, because what if Mom does get worse? That moment on the plane didn’t fade very quickly. And what if at some point I lose myself? I don’t know.

For now, I am grateful that she is better, and grateful that my cousin and his wife are so patient with my aunt. I am grateful that my widowed aunt and uncle’s children are so good to them. I am grateful that my other widowed aunt, who has no children, is remembered by her nieces and nephews, though she does not make their task easy. I am grateful to know that there is more to the soul than our time here.

Mainly, I am grateful for love, so that’s where I’ll pick up next week. It gets better from here.