Why Be So Attentive?

A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, asked me why I spend so much time with my mother, when she's doing pretty well in her new residence.

Actually, it's a good question but phrased the wrong way.

The Question is Why Aren't More Families Willing to Spend More Time with Their Loved Ones in Memory Care?

Mom and Nadya O. at Cannon Beach

I've heard all sorts of excuses from many:
   - My mother isn't the same person she used to be.  We lost the one we loved a long time ago...
   - My father was somewhat abusive, and I owe him nothing.
   - We pay people to look after them.  I have a busy schedule, but I know they're doing fine.
   - I'm too busy - I'll visit when I have a chance, and I'll bring some candy.
                  There are so many to list, but they all involve one thing - AVOIDANCE

To be honest, there are times I take some respite on the weekends from taking Mom out.  She seems to be fine - not realizing the time element, but noticing it all the same.  This means she realizes it's been a while, but for her time is not an element of understanding (after all, she believes she has been at St. A's for at least 3 years, and she was in Seattle for 3-5 years).

She does know what day it is, sometimes, but not always able to put together the pieces that fit with that information.

She does know who people are - the ones who are constant in her life - my brothers, me,  cousins, her grandchildren, and her good friends.

She writes prolifically.  It's unusual that I have fewer than 15 letters to post per week when I visit - some with a strange address (which I try to amend before sending), some to those who are no longer with us (Dad, grandparents, etc), and some which are multiple copies (I would assume) to the same person, but given varied addresses in hopes of reaching them.

This is the only mode she has, on her own, to communicate with the outside world, unless someone else is with her.  I am a willing constant.

Mom loves her ice cream!!!!

What does that do for her?   She has a shoulder to cry on.  Someone to trust.  Someone who is looking out for her and will take her shopping.  Someone who helps keep her brain stimulated, aside from the crosswords, writing, and jibberjabber of the other residents.

Despite her (or anyone else's) diagnosis, she's still my mother.  Whether I have a sense of loyalty and integrity is up to me.  Whether I determine that the people who raised, fed, clothed, sheltered and supported me (as best they could) are worth my while is up to me.  

I see some of the residents have company here and there.  There is one man who lives in residential care so he can come over and be with his wife for the majority of the day (she has quite advanced Alzheimers), and some family members who visit their mothers/fathers every so often.

I realize we're all busy, but the loneliness that many of these people endure is too much.

I hear others speak of how we need to be thoughtful of others, and we need to respect the rights of others, but they aren't the ones coming in and giving these people joy, or succor.

With dementia patients, it's about touch, talk, stimulation, and knowing there's someone there to love them, who is there; who they can count on.

This makes me feel a bit better, but it is exhausting - but worth it.