A Sad Anniversary, Birthday and Other Memories
As we near my Mom’s birthday
((This article was written in 2010))
I’ll never forget a few weeks before the end, when my brother and I sat in her hospital room and waited as she was wheeled away for more tests. In a subdued voice, as though he didn’t really want to know, my brother asked, “Does she remember you?” I could tell from the slight dampness in his eye that he prayed I would say No. My brother worked long,hard hours and was devastated by Mom’s worsening mental state. I knew that. I knew he could barely handle the knowledge of her suffering, much less see it on a daily basis. His visits with her became more and more limited, yet he suffered the price as well. She seldom recognized anyone anymore.
On this day. we sat in Mom’s room at the hospital. Her breathing had grown shallow and she’d been plagued by a deep, dry cough. A slight bout with the flu, we all surmised, but her doctor ordered tests to make a correct diagnosis.
My brother looked tired and sad. He was 3 years younger than me, yet for all our lives I’d felt like he was older. Mom had quite obviously NOT known him when he arrived a few hours earlier. She argued that he was her older brother who lived in Oklahoma come to visit. “No,” I argued with her. “He’s your son, Mom. Your firstborn son.”
“No.” I was brought back to the present and felt the need to reassure my brother. “No, I don’t think she does.” Mom called me by name, as though she knew me–but I knew she did not. I could see it in her eyes. I’m someone who takes care of her and for that she is grateful. She looks at me with gracious gratitude, but not a mother’s love.
I’m too old to be her daughter now. She often asks my age and is incredulous. In her mind–I’m a much older woman than she. Mom is young again, she no longer recognizes the woman in the mirror who follows her around all day. Now, she pines for her own mother…long into the night she cries and wails, afflicted with Sundowners. She wants to “Go Home” to her own mother who is waiting for her.
“No,” I tell my brother and I see his moment of sadness mixed with a deep sigh of relief, a release from guilt that he visits too seldom.
“She doesn’t know me either.”
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Varenikje says
04/19 at 11:39 pmI work in a nursing home and there are a few residents that say over and over, “I want to go home.” I had never thought that they want to go home to the home that they grew up in.
Sandysgingham says
04/20 at 1:39 pmHello,
Yes, I know. It does seem strange, but most folks who are ill enough to be in a nursing home don’t remember their previous home. When my Mom was in a group home, she and another lady become fast friends. They held hands and walked the grounds all day long.
When Mom was out of sight, this sweet little lady would corner me and say. “I really like your Mom. She is a good friend. Don’t tell her, but my Mom will be coming to get me soon. I really need to go home.”
I would make the promise and she was happy. She was in her 80’s and her only visitor was an adult son.
They lose their memory, Last in-first out. So their memory is lost going backward from the present. When they think of home, they are thinking of a childhood home with their mother and father if they are very far advanced into Alzheimer’s.
Thank you for sharing with us, Kathy–
~Sandy
Doris Plaster says
05/10 at 5:08 pmWhat a heartfelt story. Thank you for sharing about your journey.
Ann Napoletan says
05/06 at 9:12 amThank you for sharing your poignant story and for the book recommendation. I lost my mom on Dec 15, 2012, after almost 9 years with ALZ. This will be my first Mother’s Day without her…. although, of course, in some ways, she’s been gone for years. Still, this year, I won’t be able to go sit with her, hold her hand, just be near her… I miss that so very much.
~ Sandy says
05/06 at 10:14 amAnn,
Thank you for visiting. I know how you feel. My Mom’s birthday is July and Mother’s day this month, I think about her everyday but those days are the hardest.
All our best and Bless you this mother’s day,
~Sandy