anniversaries

It was my mother's 79th birthday on Wednesday.
We celebrated in little ways at home and in town.
Mom is blessed to still have many of the friendships
she has had most of her adult life. Dear friends
who continue to spend time with her, make
her laugh, show her that she is loved...
even without the golden thread of shared
memories to bind them together.





Last year on my mother's birthday, we were moving her
into the assisted-living community. We had made her little
apartment lovely and tried to put a happy and positive spin
on the whole experience. But I had wondered and feared
for her future there, as I slept on the couch in her tiny
living room that first night, and woke up alteast three times
as the ambulances drove to and from the convalescent
center in the long, dark hours. It was very hard to
picture my mom living there...

...and a year later, she is living here. An ambulance
may drive by in the night, but only rarely. My mother
is now surrounded by fresh air and sunshine and
blackberries in the garden and baby chicks peeping
on the porch. She is happy. We are happy she is
here. I am not the most objective of observers,
being so close in every way to her daily life...but
I do not see much change in my mom from last
year's birthday to this, and for that we are
so grateful.






She is sleeping so well and fully recovered
from her fall, entering into family life more than
ever and very content....

It is me who is drifting a bit. From the intense
days of nursing her after the accident on Christmas
Eve, through the crafting of new rhythms and routines,
I have arrived to these quiet days of Summer....
I don't want to read books about dementia caregiving,
as I did in January, February and March-I can read
those again when things get hard. And I can't find books
to tell me what to do now that my mom doesn't need me
to be learning and figuring out so much to help her
through her days....and my sons are so nearly-grown
and independent....nor can I turn towards another
creative venture, for there isn't that much freedom
and things can change at any time.





So I am re-learning how to find joy and satisfaction
in the simplest of pursuits...gardening, baking, tending
myself and our home and our family. It is surprisingly
challenging. So different from what it was with little ones,
and what it would be like if we had an "empty nest".
I am mothering my mother and cultivating the patience
necessary to live each day with her memory loss.
That is the new ingredient.

I am writing this at the library today. In front of me
is the stack of books I gleaned from the biography
section (through CAS). I am thinking that it might
be helpful for me to read about other women's lives,
as I am examining my own....a line here, an idea there...to
encourage me in these lovely, sunny, peaceful days that find
me confusingly unsettled and seeking comfort and
inspiration....which I am sure to find.

a musical ear

Life has been peaceful with my mom lately. She is
content to spend much time reading and watching the birds
from the screened porch. She is sleeping fairly well (not too
many trips downstairs in the night for me, to help her back to
bed) and watching just enough old musicals to keep her happy
and not so many that we feel as tho' we might go around
the bend! The music she hears is in her beloved movies,
on the kitchen radio, on the ipod radio my brother filled
with her favorite music or in the car when we drive to
and from town.


But it wasn't always so. She had only been at
the assisted-living place for a few months when she
started asking me to check under the bed and in the closet
for the radio she kept hearing. For awhile I thought she must
be hearing music from the new neighbor next door (tho' I
should have known better since it was always so quiet in that
place!). My mom was getting quite distracted with the persistence
and repetition of these songs..."Old Man River", "Edelweiss",
"God Bless America", many more. With some careful
questioning, one evening I determined that she was hearing the
music in her head. Back at home that night, I spent hours
researching her symptoms and desperately hoping it wasn't
some sort of psychosis. What I discovered was that my
mother had developed Musical Ear Syndrome.

She had all of the conditions that are often present when
it occurs:

1. Often the person is elderly.

2. Generally, the person is hard of hearing.

3. Often the person lacks adequate auditory stimulation.

4. Almost always the person has tinnitus.

5. Often the person is either anxious, stressed or

depressed.

-from Hearing Loss Help

I didn't think we could do much about numbers 1,2 or 4 (tho' we had
already addressed the hearing loss with some very fine hearing aids).
We hoped that setting up an ipod radio in my mom's room, filled
with her favorite familiar music, would help the "too quiet
environment", but she never remembered to turn it on. And
everywhere outside her room remained so quiet and insulated, there
wasn't much hope for change there. And soon enough we realized
that her low level of anxiety wouldn't change as long as she was in
an institution (however lovely), and as much as she had tried
to make a go of it.

It is one of the many reasons we brought her home.
As soon as my mom arrived, I made sure she had a peaceful
but sound-rich environment. Just the everyday sounds of our
family talking with one another, calling the animals, opening
and closing doors, going up and down the creaky stairs, the
birds singing, the kettle whistling, went a long way to filling
her ears in a good way. When it felt "too quiet", I would turn
on the kitchen radio the classical music or jazz that comes
from our local NPR station....




And after awhile we realized that my mother was no
longer complaining about the songs playing over and over
again, nor was she waking up in night because of it. For the most
part, except for occasional complaints at night about the noise
in her ears (which I think might be the tinnitus), it seems to
have disappeared. I know that it may return, but what a relief
to have something so troubling to her be so easy (relatively)
to solve.

Now music is only a positive in her life.
Tho' I notice that it is a little trickier for her to find the
harmonies she has always been wonderful at adding to our
singing together (something we don't do as often as we could),
she sings along to all her old music (thank goodness I love it,
too!), and enjoys occasional concerts. Neatest of all, she remains
open to all kinds of music, especially since I have started to make
a point of not always listening to news or interviews ("talk, talk,
talk" as my mom says) during our hour-long drives into town.
Tho' she was a little critical of some songs when we first
started listening, she is much more open-minded after many
drives watching me tap my hand against the steering wheel and sing
along as my favorite station played all sorts of oldish songs...."Lay
Down Sally" (she made a face when this first came on, was singing
along after a few verses and declared at the end that she thought
it was a wonderful song), "Low Rider "(can you imagine?), old Elvis
Costello. Best of all was a warm afternoon when I had picked her up
after respite care, and I had the top of her VW convertible down and
Simple Minds "Alive and Kicking" blasting (that song has to be loud!)
on the radio as we drove the pleasant streets of Williamsburg...
smiling at each other, hands keeping the beat.




P.S. Thank you Mary Anne and Gigi for the UTI information.
This time it wasn't that for my mom, but I will always be on the watch
for it.


P.P.S. These photos were taken early this Spring on Easter Sunday

pillole, pastillas....

...or pills as they are more commonly known, have become
a part of everyday life since my mom came to live with us.
My mom was always proud that she didn't have to take any
prescription medicine until recently, and I am glad to say that
supplements outnumber the pills even now. But I have never
liked the words "pills" (which puts me in mind of Lottie's little
speech in the beginning of Enchanted April about
her last name

"I am Mrs. Wilkins.
"She did not like her name. It was a mean, small name,
with a kind of facetious twist, she thought about its end like
the upward curve of a pugdog's tail. There it was."
-Elizabeth Von Arnim


Even less did I like dispensing all of the pills from their plastic
containers night and morning and having the bottles clutter
up the counter. First I looked at the typical pill dispensers
(plastic and very ugly and more than we needed in the way of safety).
Then I searched the web long and hard for a set of tiny drawers
that could divide up the "servings" of pills morning and night.
I couldn't find anything that suited, but got a wonderful idea
when I spotted a little set of drawers made of
matchboxes on etsy.

We decorate little matchboxes as favors for our Solstice
gathering every December, and I had several left over, so I made
several more...decorated with bits of handmade paper and
decorative bits from catalogues and my old misprints.
Then I printed out a sheet of labels that I cut out with
deckle-edged scissors and pasted to one side of the
matchbox. Perhaps I could figure out how to make the
sheet downloadable here if there is interest?





Once a week I gather all the pill bottles and my pretty
stack of boxes and fill them for the week ahead....usually
while watching the telly. Although, truly, it only takes five
to ten minutes! Then I store the bottles away again for another
week and the little boxes line up nicely in our
herb and spice drawer.




Every morning at breakfast and in the evening after supper
I pull out the appropriate box and place it at my mom's place
at the table. She often comments on a picture she sees on the
box and I can't tell you how pleasant it is to slide open the
little box rather than having to open and close the numerous
bottles morning and night.

And it is so easy to toss one or two in my purse if we are
going to be away from home at pillole time. If things change
for my mom and we have to worry about her access to the pills,
we can easily put a safety latch on the drawer. But that is not an
issue at the moment. And something that used to a bit tedious
and irritating to me is easy and sometimes beautiful.
I intend to make some little boxes for my own
supplements very soon and banish all plastic
bottles from my day-to-day.


P.S. My mom's unusual confusion lasted only the day,
with a little fever coming to her in the evening. I have still
not gotten used to that connection of bodily dis-ease with increased
mental dis-ease and don't think of it at first. It will come to me
more quickly, I know, as I get more accustomed to this
life of caregiving.

trying....

...in both senses of the word.
Trying to make the days safe and happy for
all of us...and also finding it so trying sometimes.

We have had many good days lately, days
when my mom offered to the dishes (something
that she always took on as her chore when she came
to visit, but something she hasn't thought to do in
all these months she has been with us) She
even thought to take in the wash
one evening.






But this morning, she came to breakfast in a confused
state, saying things that didn't quite make sense, finding
even the cereal box heavy to lift. She has remained so
throughout this day. I just fixed us a lunch full of protein
and veggies and she is off for a nap...and I can't help
but hope that she will wake up in a clearer state
of mind.

This is the most trying-as in "hard to endure"-part
of living with dementia....not knowing what each day
will bring and what I will have to bring to it to make
the best of it. I am working on acceptance, but am
still in the place where it strikes dread in my heart
when my dear mother says and does things that don't
make sense. Dread and fear are natural reactions,
I know, but they aren't helpful companions and I
am glad to leave them behind as quickly
as I am able.