Two weeks ago Mom’s hospice worker called me. “Julie. Your mom can’t hold her head up. She isn’t talking.” I’m on my way I tell her. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.
Mom did not have a stroke which is what we all thought at first. When I got there she was in a wheelchair with her head propped up by pillows. She was doing a strange jerking motion with her whole body and didn’t seem to realize I was there. Her eyes kept closing.
We finally all decided that she was just very very sick with chest congestion and so that made her very weak. The doctor was called and he prescribed antibiotics and a steroid. Within a few days Mom was back to her regular self. The jerking stopped with the removal of a certain “calming” medicine she had been on. Such a relief!
But in the midst of the medication changes something else has happened… Mom has become more aware again. I feel like she was possibly being over medicated at the place in Frisco. In many months she had not said she “wanted to go home” or that she “wanted her husband.” She had not been combative very often. She was recognizing dad and me but it was fairly understated most of the time. Occasionally she seemed to not realize who I was.
But since Mom recovered from her illness and the “calming” medication was removed (replaced? I am not sure) Mom has been MUCH more aware. The other night about 7:45 they called me because Mom was feeling worried and anxious. She actually talked to me. She said she just wanted to talk to me because she was a little scared. I told her I missed talking to her at night and I especially missed playing Words with Friends with her. Do you remember playing that game Mom? Yes! She said. I miss it too. I was stunned. We talked a bit more and then she went back to bed. I guess she had been up wandering around when she was usually asleep. She didn’t communicate perfectly but it was so much better than it has been – I just couldn’t believe it. I even texted her caregivers and asked if I was crazy for seeing such a remarkable change!
Today Mom was combative with her favorite caregiver and didn’t want to get out of bed or take her pills. This has happened more often in the last two weeks than it had in the preceding nine months. When I arrived they told her they had a big surprise for her. She had been crying all morning. She comes around the corner and sees me and her face just completely broke down. She grabbed me and hugged me and just cried. My heart shattered in that moment. “I’m here Mom. Everything is ok. I promise.” But that perfect recognition, while extremely painful to watch, is a glimmer of the Mom I knew “before.” And so I’ll take it. I sat with her for awhile and then we went out to get a sonic drink. We drove mostly in silence, just holding hands. Mom starts to eat her hamburger but soon forgets about it and it falls to the floor. I give her one of Baby Girl’s small stuffed ponies to hold. She rubs its fur for a bit then tries to eat its tail. if that doesn’t show you how an Alzheimer’s patient regresses to toddlerhood, I don’t know what would. I gently take it from her and say “can’t eat the pony Mom.”
As I was about to leave I told Mom it’s ok to cry sometimes. And she said thank you in such a small voice. Then I said “it’s ok to cry sometimes but not all day, so pull your shit together Mom.” She laughed so hard. She knows that’s what she would have said to me. We both laughed then and I know she was doing better. I left the little pony with her.
I told her favorite caregiver that I just didn’t know what to do for Mom. That I hate hearing about the bad times but that of course they need to tell me. She said to me “just keep loving her. That’s all you can do. Just keep loving her.”
No worries Mom. As if I could ever stop.