Mom has been having troubles with her short term memory for a while; however, her long-term memory also seems to be taking a hit. Yet, there are moments when she seems quite lucid and readily active mentally!
This week she played Bingo. She can't recall much of it, nor the fact that she actually played, but then she speaks as though it did happen.
On Thursday, after her massage, Jean fought through the rains and came over for a visit. She sat Mom down and they wrote letters. Mom has not been writing at all in the past months to her friends in Port Angeles who have been so kindly remember her. So, Jean thought it important that they receive missives.
Mom wrote some, and Jean wrote more. Together they were able to negotiate about 5-6 letters to various friends of hers. Then the task of locating addresses came about. Done! By the time they finished Mom was exhausted and would have no more of it! And, Jean left knowing she had done a world of good for Mother's sense (although it be temporary) of accomplishment and self-worth.
Today I came to find Mom working her crosswords. She told me that the med-aide (she told me the name, but I had thought this woman was only the receptionist at the front desk, and that Mother was hallucinating) had come in at 630 and closed her windows and turned up the heat. This riled Mom so as soon as Harlan left, Mom arose, undid what Harlan had done, and then decided to get up and shower and then go out for breakfast (this was the earliest she'd risen in quite some time - usually it was closer to 9 or 930 for her to appear).
I bumped into Harlan who was working the weekend shift for someone else (Nnte: Harlan had been Mom's med-aid when she first arrived, and they formed a good bond after Mom walked off refusing to re-enter the center one day). She told me it was quite frigid in the room, and that Mom told her to turn the heat up and close the window, which she'd done. I remarked that Mom had giggled about getting up and undoing it all. Harlan smiled and said, "She's still the same." We had a good laugh.
Next, we had to find Mom's compression stockings. We found one, but its mate was nowhere to be found, nor the second pair. Where could they be? Well, we found the missing mate in Mom's side purse pocket (you tell me - why would someone put a compression stocking in their side purse pocket????!!!!). Ah me.
As the time had gone past attending Mass with good form, we discovered that Mom was running low on wine, so we went over to the store and purchased some candy, wine, and hot chocolate for Mother.
As I placed her favorite type (Mango/Strawberry Moscato) in the cart, Mom spied a Raspberry wine. She wanted it. I questioned the choice - was she promising me she'd drink it? I wasn't going to buy it if she turned it aside once it was presented to her. She promised. Then came the bottle of Shiraz (Yellow Tail - this used to be her absolute must have wine). We bought that one, as well. So we went through the checkout with 4 bottles.
Later, Mom asked about the wines I bought. I told her the Mango/Strawberry. She sneered and said, "Yuck! That sounds awful!" I reminded her that this was the wine she'd been drinking for several months and enjoyed. "No, I haven't. That isn't the type of wine I've been drinking. You wouldn't know, anyway, since Mr. Manning (the cottage director) buys it for me." Okay. battle not worth fighting.
"And we bought some Raspberry Moscato."
"Blech!" Does anyone really say that? Obviously. "Why would you buy something like that? It sounds repulsive!" I reminded her of our earlier conversation at the store. She insisted it never happened, which, in her case, might be true.
"What about the bottle of Shiraz?"
"That sounds reasonable. You need to take the others back. I won't drink them."
"I'm not taking them back. You chose them.'
"Not the Mango/Strawberry. That sounds too frou-frou for me."
sigh
From the store we ventured through Mount Tabor on our way to Jean's for lunch.
Finally arriving, after seeing some of the aftermath of the windstorm from yesterday, we were treated to lovely and delicious French Toast! Featuring Beaverton Bakery Apple Cinnamon Bread. Delicious!
Mom had a healthy serving. We all enjoyed the great bacon, as well!
We had a wonderful conversation, and then Mom sent herself to the living room to recline in the easy chair for a nap.
When she awoke, Jean's son, Terry, and his daughter, Jada, made an appearance. Mom re-entered and enjoyed the conversation.
To be honest, this was the first time I'd seen her truly engaged in a dialog between several people at once, and enjoying herself. She wasn't quite 'back to herself', but there were signs of what I remembered. It was a very wonderful afternoon.
As we left, Mom was telling me she didn't believe Terry was really Jean's brother. "He has to be one of Bob's brothers, but I don't remember him that well (Bob is Jean's late husband)."
Terry is my age, so there's over 30 years difference between his father and him). I probed a little more and said, "I think he's Jean's son."
"No. That couldn't possibly be. He's too old."
I left it at that.
We arrived back at St. Anthony's around 3ish, and I gave the wines to Harlan. When I re-entered Mom's room, she was ready to go out again, lipstick and everything!
"Are you ready to go?" she asked.
"Yes. I'm going home, though. Where are you going?"
"You need to take me to that house for those things?"
"What things?"
"You know. Those things that you told me I needed to take home."
Seriously. I believe I've seen this conversation in commercials, but never thought I'd be actually involved in it.
After looping around several times with that train of thought, I was able to take my leave, and Mom was going to rest.
One thing she did say, today, that I found interesting. She asked me if she could stop the massages. I asked her reasons for wanting to stop them, and she told me they didn't seem to do her much good. I will have this conversation with her again this week to be sure, but this clarity struck me as rather interesting. So, I'll have a conversation with the therapist in the week, just to give her a heads up, in case....
Until Wednesday, Cheers!
This week she played Bingo. She can't recall much of it, nor the fact that she actually played, but then she speaks as though it did happen.
On Thursday, after her massage, Jean fought through the rains and came over for a visit. She sat Mom down and they wrote letters. Mom has not been writing at all in the past months to her friends in Port Angeles who have been so kindly remember her. So, Jean thought it important that they receive missives.
Mom wrote some, and Jean wrote more. Together they were able to negotiate about 5-6 letters to various friends of hers. Then the task of locating addresses came about. Done! By the time they finished Mom was exhausted and would have no more of it! And, Jean left knowing she had done a world of good for Mother's sense (although it be temporary) of accomplishment and self-worth.
Today I came to find Mom working her crosswords. She told me that the med-aide (she told me the name, but I had thought this woman was only the receptionist at the front desk, and that Mother was hallucinating) had come in at 630 and closed her windows and turned up the heat. This riled Mom so as soon as Harlan left, Mom arose, undid what Harlan had done, and then decided to get up and shower and then go out for breakfast (this was the earliest she'd risen in quite some time - usually it was closer to 9 or 930 for her to appear).
I bumped into Harlan who was working the weekend shift for someone else (Nnte: Harlan had been Mom's med-aid when she first arrived, and they formed a good bond after Mom walked off refusing to re-enter the center one day). She told me it was quite frigid in the room, and that Mom told her to turn the heat up and close the window, which she'd done. I remarked that Mom had giggled about getting up and undoing it all. Harlan smiled and said, "She's still the same." We had a good laugh.
Next, we had to find Mom's compression stockings. We found one, but its mate was nowhere to be found, nor the second pair. Where could they be? Well, we found the missing mate in Mom's side purse pocket (you tell me - why would someone put a compression stocking in their side purse pocket????!!!!). Ah me.
As the time had gone past attending Mass with good form, we discovered that Mom was running low on wine, so we went over to the store and purchased some candy, wine, and hot chocolate for Mother.
As I placed her favorite type (Mango/Strawberry Moscato) in the cart, Mom spied a Raspberry wine. She wanted it. I questioned the choice - was she promising me she'd drink it? I wasn't going to buy it if she turned it aside once it was presented to her. She promised. Then came the bottle of Shiraz (Yellow Tail - this used to be her absolute must have wine). We bought that one, as well. So we went through the checkout with 4 bottles.
Later, Mom asked about the wines I bought. I told her the Mango/Strawberry. She sneered and said, "Yuck! That sounds awful!" I reminded her that this was the wine she'd been drinking for several months and enjoyed. "No, I haven't. That isn't the type of wine I've been drinking. You wouldn't know, anyway, since Mr. Manning (the cottage director) buys it for me." Okay. battle not worth fighting.
"And we bought some Raspberry Moscato."
"Blech!" Does anyone really say that? Obviously. "Why would you buy something like that? It sounds repulsive!" I reminded her of our earlier conversation at the store. She insisted it never happened, which, in her case, might be true.
"What about the bottle of Shiraz?"
"That sounds reasonable. You need to take the others back. I won't drink them."
"I'm not taking them back. You chose them.'
"Not the Mango/Strawberry. That sounds too frou-frou for me."
sigh
From the store we ventured through Mount Tabor on our way to Jean's for lunch.
Finally arriving, after seeing some of the aftermath of the windstorm from yesterday, we were treated to lovely and delicious French Toast! Featuring Beaverton Bakery Apple Cinnamon Bread. Delicious!
Mom had a healthy serving. We all enjoyed the great bacon, as well!
We had a wonderful conversation, and then Mom sent herself to the living room to recline in the easy chair for a nap.
When she awoke, Jean's son, Terry, and his daughter, Jada, made an appearance. Mom re-entered and enjoyed the conversation.
To be honest, this was the first time I'd seen her truly engaged in a dialog between several people at once, and enjoying herself. She wasn't quite 'back to herself', but there were signs of what I remembered. It was a very wonderful afternoon.
As we left, Mom was telling me she didn't believe Terry was really Jean's brother. "He has to be one of Bob's brothers, but I don't remember him that well (Bob is Jean's late husband)."
Terry is my age, so there's over 30 years difference between his father and him). I probed a little more and said, "I think he's Jean's son."
"No. That couldn't possibly be. He's too old."
I left it at that.
We arrived back at St. Anthony's around 3ish, and I gave the wines to Harlan. When I re-entered Mom's room, she was ready to go out again, lipstick and everything!
"Are you ready to go?" she asked.
"Yes. I'm going home, though. Where are you going?"
"You need to take me to that house for those things?"
"What things?"
"You know. Those things that you told me I needed to take home."
Seriously. I believe I've seen this conversation in commercials, but never thought I'd be actually involved in it.
After looping around several times with that train of thought, I was able to take my leave, and Mom was going to rest.
One thing she did say, today, that I found interesting. She asked me if she could stop the massages. I asked her reasons for wanting to stop them, and she told me they didn't seem to do her much good. I will have this conversation with her again this week to be sure, but this clarity struck me as rather interesting. So, I'll have a conversation with the therapist in the week, just to give her a heads up, in case....
Until Wednesday, Cheers!
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