She seems more content now with her life in assisted living, but the contentment itself tears her farther away from family.
Have I mentioned how much I hate Alzheimer’s?
Several weeks ago, I drove 250 miles to be with family – a precious time with siblings, extended family at a reunion and quality time with Mom.
But my plans did not fit in with the plaque-infested changes in her brain. My plans included several hours in her room catching up, a walk around the lake to watch the ducks and geese placidly float, maybe a stroll through the facility – greeting her friends.
Instead, she dismissed me. “Thanks for coming. ‘Bye.”
So instead of parking my car and walking arm in arm into the facility, I watched as she opened the door – all by herself – and walked inside.
A few months ago, she stood at the door and waved goodbye. Not this time. Once inside the comfort of her routine, she marched toward her room.
Away from the door. Away from me.
On one hand, I am grateful she has acclimated to her studio apartment. She feels comfortable with the activities planned for each day and the white-haired friends who sit beside her in the dining room.
These people now represent her world and the building has become her home. I am only an occasional visitor – a person from her past who sits next to her until she grows tired of me. Then the inevitable dismissal, “Thanks for coming. ‘Bye.”
Alzheimer’s Disease not only steals the memories and names of loved one, it also alters familiar patterns. The relationships that once defined our lives become blurred in the needs of the present.
The shopping trips we shared, the laughter around a game of Scrabble, cheering together for our favorite team – all these familiar activities now relegated to a life once lived.
And the people who colored those events are now just human beings who happen to be visiting. The familial connections fade. The absence of recognition will soon follow.
Time with others is precious, especially while we know how to communicate and relate to each other. Once that connection disappears, we have only the memories to treasure.
Enjoy your time with family while everyone still understands what family means.
©2017 RJ Thesman, Author of “Sometimes They Forget” and the Reverend G Trilogy
Thank you for reviewing, at the risk of added pain, the realities of such a journey. And for the priceless reminder. Thankful that relationships last even when memories, for some, go away.
Yes, Jerry – those relationships last. And how wonderful – someday – when all disease will be wiped away and we will know as we are known.