Yesterday, we had tea together but she doesn't know that.
The difficulty in most days is not knowing what she knows or will know, not being sure of how she is feeling, and trying as hard as I can to understand just what it is that I know or how it is that I feel.
And of course, my feelings are only that- mine. How does my husband feel watching his mother succumb to this disease?
How do my children, the ones who live here and live it with us feel? What do they think?
My eleven year old I know feels my stress and wonders how he can avoid the pitfalls of old age? How do I make sure he knows that Alzheimer's does not equal old age when I can't promise it won't happen to the others he loves, or even to him someday.
My three year old feels the pressure to hurry up and get potty trained, but he doesn't know that its because his mom thinks she can't deal with baby diapers and adult diapers- although thankfully, the adult diapers are still something we don't have to think about -yet.
What about the older children who seem to be fading away from her mind first because they don't live here? How do we help them experience the fact that somehow, for some reason they might be the first ones to experience the agitation that accompanies Alzheimer's Disease? How do I help our 17 year old daughter understand that she may unwittingly become Saribenne's own daughter in her mind, the daughter that has long been gone from her life and that she harbors resentment toward?
We can explain it, we can talk about it, but we can never change it. Even we can never understand it.
And in the mean time, there is the here and now to deal with: the tea, the chocolate, the trips to the store and the bank. Most of all there is the remembering - the remembering we must do for her- and the remembering to love -that we must do for ourselves and for her.
Yesterday, we had tea and she doesn't know it. Today, I have had to hug her twice and say that yes, I know it's awful to not remember. I know it's hard.
Then, I have to walk away and remember to to take care of myself also.
3 comments:
It's hard to read this, I can't imagine having to balance it every day. Prayers to you both. I hope if that happens to me I can still get pleasure or calmness from music and trees, touching the leaves, feeling the wind, hearing the water, the grass...mud...these are the essentials.
xo
Thank you Maggie. It is so hard for her. This year I had to explain to her about seasons changing because she couldn't believe that she hadn't noticed the leaves being red before.
I am hoping we get a very pretty snowfall soon because I know she would love it.
You are truly amazing, don't ever doubt that. Your MIL is blessed, as is your husband and children. Your writing brings tears to my eyes and I am sitting here filled with awe and admiration for you. As the daughter of a mother who has brain damage from a massive stroke she had during her early 40s, I understand what it feels like to want someone to remember. If only our love for them could heal them. You are not alone Shannon and because you share with the world, you make others feel less alone too. Thank you.
PEACE
Jennifer
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