Independent Woman!!

I could change my mom's name to Mrs. Independent and she would be happy. She is slowing holding on to her independence as much as she can. As I was making her breakfast she was sitting in the chair trying to put on her shoes. The physical therapist, the old woman, as she calls her, guess because she has a head full of white hair and that only means you are old to my mom, is coming this afternoon to walk with her and do the exercises. So, she has these non-slip socks on and they are thick and she was sitting there trying to get her foot in her shoe. I told her that the sock might be a tad too thick but she insisted that she can do it and didn't want or need my help. I smiled and took a step back. She is feisty this morning. Almost like her usual self. So, she pushed and pulled and pulled and pushed her foot determined to get that foot in that shoe with that sock on. I put her breakfast on her little black tray and pushed it near her. I asked again if she needed help. She declined and she sat there and ate her food with one shoe on and one shoe off. She reminded me of how my son was when he was small. When he was first learning to put on his clothes he was like that too. He refused my help too and was proud when he finally did it himself and I would clap my hands and cheer. I don't think my mom would appreciate me clapping my hands and cheering for her though when she finally got her other shoe on over her heavy non-slip socks. She would probably cuss me out if I did. Although, I felt like it. I won't lie. 

I love that fact that she holds on to doing little things. And she hasn't given up trying to do them. Yesterday she was putting on her jacket. I guess she saw it and just wanted it on. I asked if she was cold but she said no and she struggled with that jacket, had it upside down, this way and that way and I could tell that she was getting frustrated but in a few minutes she got that jacket on with a little help from my son. She will take help from him, go figure.  He tells her, "Grandma it is okay if you need a little help. Just ask me." He's 10 going on 20 sometimes. But, I am glad he is there to help and she takes his help and they talk and laugh about it later about how they got that jacket on finally. 

Today seems like it might be a good day. I will know more after this afternoon when the therapist comes and if she will agree to go down the stairs with her for a walk. Knowing my mom that could go either way. She may do it and she may not and insist that they walk around the house and mean it. Today she is feisty for sure.

A Good Day!

The time before this last time this month my mom was in the hospital with another mild stroke was in January. She was sitting there eating breakfast as usual and then all of a sudden she just stopped. Her eyes went blank and she did what I call a zombie stare. She was there but not really. My nephew and I screamed her name, first we just called it in our normal voices but then we screamed it like she was totally hard of hearing which she isn't yet. I immediately called 911 and within a few minutes the emergency people were here and they took her to the hospital. 

My mom hates hospitals and I can't much blame her. By the time she got there she was responsive again and knew just about everything and everyone she did before she got there and was mad as a pistol that she was there in the first place. She hated the open gowns and complained that more people have seen her butt then the law allows. She still had her sense of humor. She hated all the fussing and the all the IV's that were placed on all parts of her body and all the poking around they did looking for a vein. The one they found was in her neck so she had an IV hanging from there. It was a good thing that there were no mirrors in that room or she would have really had a fit. I am sure she had one when they put in her vein in her neck. 

I know it seemed to her that she would never get out and that all the questions about did she know where she was and did she know her name were endless. She did know where she was and her name but when it came to her birth date she would know the month and the day but the year she would not know. She would get it backwards almost every time. The days of the week she never really cared about when she didn't have demtia so that was always a blank to her even when you told her five minutes before they asked her. 

They asked the woman in the bed next to my mom almost the same questions and her daughter would cue her in on the answers before the medical people came to ask her and she was basically like my mom she knew some of the answers like where she was not the day of the week or the month. I wondered if she had dementia too. I knew that she had a lot of other things and was taking a lot of meds. I over heard that when the daughter was telling the doctors what she was taking. Hospital rooms have no privacy whatsoever unless I guess if you are in a private room.  But, she heard our stuff and we heard hers and that was just the way it was. 

When my mom came home 5 days later she was overjoyed and the light came back in her eyes. Once while she was at the hospital she had the nurse call and she asked me where she was and said she was confused. I told her where she was and that she would be home soon. That reminded me of something she told me about my dad when he was in the Airforce in Vietnam. I was around 3 or 4 years old and I would ask her where my dad was and when he was coming home and she would tell me that he would  be home soon and not to worry. I did worry though in my own way until he got home for good.  I told her not to worry she would also be home soon. 

The roles have been somewhat reversed now. I am parenting my parent and my child. But, that is okay with me. I am glad that I have both of them here with me. When I think I am drowning in paper work for medi-cal for my mom and this and that I just stop and take a break and think that I am blessed to have her here to be able to "parent" her and to have my son grow up with her. Then I get back to the mounds of paper work. 

Today so far has been a good day. My mom even surprised me when she remembered the day of the week. It is a small thing but I will take it. 

The Beginning

Dementia is not a specific disease. It's an overall term that describes a wide range of symptoms associated with a decline in memory or other thinking skills severe enough to reduce a person's ability to perform everyday activities.Alzheimer's disease accounts for 60 to 80 percent of cases.Vascular dementia, which occurs after a stroke, is the second most common dementia type. But there are many other conditions that can cause symptoms of dementia, including some that are reversible, such as thyroid problems and vitamin deficiencies.

Dementia is often incorrectly referred to as "senility" or "senile dementia," which reflects the formerly widespread but incorrect belief that serious mental decline is a normal part of aging.

The definition of dementia. I had heard this word before many times in the past but didn't really know what it met. My grandmother suffered from it and I think her sister had it too. All I can remember about my great aunt, Edith, my grandmother's sister is that people used to say she was a little "off" and that she couldn't remember things sometimes because she was a little "off" that she was not all there. I was young then and did not know what any of that met. I took it as that the grown ups knew and that it was not something that they wanted a kid to understand. That was my understanding at the age of 8 or 9 when I started hearing it on a regular basis. After aunt Edith's husband died in the late 70's  she came to live with my grandmother, Nana. By then Edith didn't speak anymore. She would just look at you with a question in her eyes asking did she know you? We would talk to her telling her who we were and talking about our days at school or what we were doing over summer vacation. Nana encouraged us to talk to her even though she couldn't talk back to us so we did, my sister and I. On Christmas Nana would put a little decorated Christmas tree in Edith's room and we would leave little gifts underneath it. Edith liked watching the lights I think. Sometimes I would go with Nana to do laundry or to grocery shop while my step grandfather would watch Edith and Nana would tell me that it was hard work taking care of her but that is her sister and you always take care of family no matter what. She made me promise that I would always take care of my family no matter what. And at the age of 11 that is what I promised her. 

Edith passed away when I was around 14 years old or so after she had lived with my grandmother for few years. I remember we had a little memorial service for her at Nana's church, the same church we attended and basically grew up in. It was very small mostly family. We had lost track of many of Edith's friends by then and the house that Edith lived in with her husband had been sold and the neighborhood had changed greatly since the time she lived there. 

About twenty years or so later my grandmother told me that she was not remembering things as well as she used to and was going to give up driving because she couldn't find her way home one day. She didn't call it dementia though she said she was forgetting things that she should be remembering. Sometimes I would have to remind her of things that she was supposed to do that day and so did my step grandfather whom she became more and more dependent on to remember stuff. Which for her was totally out of character. Nana was the most independent woman I would ever know and she always told me to be that way too and not to depend on anyone but myself. But, in her 70's now she had to depend on us. Slowly, Nana declined and by the time my son was born in 2004, Nana was 82 and she became like her sister, Edith she was not talking but there was still a light in her eyes. I could tell that at certain times she had some recognition of who we were but couldn't verbalize it. At other times her eyes were just blank. My step grandfather by then had found out he was dying of lung cancer and they both had care givers as well as family helping them out. I missed my Nana. I missed talking to her and her talking to me and us doing things together and wished that I had spent more time with her like she wanted. She would always say that I would miss her when she was gone and that was very true. Physically she wasn't gone but mentally she was. She couldn't make my favorite breakfast anymore, waffles or grits and eggs and no longer could I walk into her house and smell the smells of the morning, her morning coffee. No longer could I sit down and chat with her over breakfast about my non existent love life.  Nana always wanted to know if I had a boyfriend. Most of the time I didn't and she would frown and tell me how smart and beautiful I was and that one day the right one would come along but she would say to remember to stay independent too. I told her I would. 

On December 2nd, 2005 just days before my son's first birthday Nana passed away peacefully at home while my mom held her hand. That was one of the few times I ever saw my mom cry. My mom went into the "ugly cry" as she called it and so did everyone else. Nana was gone. I remembered the last time I told her that I loved her and I wished I had said it more often. 

Last year at the age of 76 on a hot August day my mom had a stroke. She had not had any health problems for 76 years and then a stroke, they called it a mild stroke. After many days in the hospital they also diagnosed her with vascular dementia. I didn't know what that was and when the doctor was explaining it to me it felt like I was in another world. I heard what he was saying but not really processing it while looking at my mom lying in that hospital bed. My mom had always had a memory like an elephant. She remembered things that I had forgotten. I couldn't believe that now she would not remember things. Not my mom. But, that was what the doctors were standing there telling me that when she came home she would not be the same person as when she left.  I was hoping against hope that they were wrong. They continued to explain about some brain vessels in the back of her brain and that is all I heard about that I didn't know what they were saying all I knew is that I selfishly wanted my old mother to come back home with me not this new person they were describing to me.

But, they were right. My mom was in a slow decline. She remembers some things just fine. But, sometimes confusion sets in and she can't remember what day it is. She still remembers us, our names but she doesn't always remember how many of us there are, her kids and grand kids.  The other day she called my sister her niece. I had to correct her and she laughed and said that she couldn't have really said that. She still has a sense of humor and I am thankful for that. 

This has been a good week so far. Yesterday she got out of the house for a little bit and walked with us to the corner and back. She now uses a walker for balance and has physical therapy twice a week and hates walking down the 17 stairs that we have to walk down to get out of the house and back in the house. So, I was surprised when she actually agreed to go outside further then the front porch yesterday. She was eager to get out and get some of the fresh spring air. She didn't go far but hey, if she only took two steps that was a good day for her and us too.