Mary Phillips is the Life Enrichment Coordinator at one of our Memory Care Communities. She works daily with our residents who suffer from Alzheimer’s and other forms of Dementia. She “knows” all about this terrible disease. This story, however, is written from her perspective as a daughter. What she discovers as she “sees” and “feels” the effects of this devastating disease is recorded in her story.
You are someone I love...
A Story Worth Reading - One Many of You Know
A shortened diary of a visit with my mom. This past month, I traveled “home” to visit my mom. It had been several months since I saw her last. But when I walked into her care home and saw her walking in the hall, it seemed just like yesterday, for a fleeting moment. She looked up as her sister and I entered and a huge smile spread across her face.
“How wonderful to see you”, she said. “You just missed Pa. He came to visit me and we talked and talked. I don't know where Ma was, though, do you?” My Aunt and I
exchanged glances because “Pa” had been gone since the 1980's. It didn't matter, though, because she had obviously had a wonderful visit with her dad that day. She then turned to the aide and introduced us as her two sisters. That was on Monday.
Tuesday, I arrived to see her still in bed at noon. She was drowsy and disoriented but sure was glad to see me, her mother. She let everyone know we were going out to lunch. And I do mean everyone. It warmed my heart to see the responses she solicited and all called
her by name. We went to lunch, returned to play a spirited game of Bingo, with my mom repeating each and every number for the caller, and then shared some ice cream sundaes with mom ending up wearing more than she ate. It took some doing to tuck her in that night, but she asked me dreamily to stay with her until she went to sleep. “I love you, mom,” I said. “Leave me alone” she answered.
Wednesday, we were treated to a fabulous outing at Mom's favorite Italian restaurant. I decided it would be fun for mom to be seated next to the fountain. I didn't realize that every child in the place came to the fountain to make a wish by throwing in a penny. She soon had me and everyone else at the table digging in the bottoms of our purses for change to hand out – for the cost of a hug. Yes, my mom demanded and got hugs from each child in the restaurant. And her warmth carried over, because each table stopped to chat with mom as they entered or left. It was so joyous. That night, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the
pillow.
Thursday was interesting. My aunt and four cousins joined us for a long lunch and then a visit at my aunt's home. At the restaurant, we laughed about old times, with mom contributing much to the reminiscing and conversation. When we got to the house, she quietly sat on the couch next to me. Every
five minutes or so, she had me introduce her to the ladies in the room, and then asked me my name. Reality, mine that is, hit me like an arrow to the heart. I had to go into the kitchen and shed a few tears, then go back in the living room and just continue to show my mom the love I had for her. When I took her back to the care home that evening, she was frightened and confused. What had I done wrong? Over
stimulization will do that, the aide said, as she helped me get her to bed. I left and sat in the car crying, ashamed of myself for not recognizing that.
On Friday, I kept it low key. We spent time in the solarium listening to music. Mom addressed EVERYONE with a cheery “hi” and EVERYONE responded to her by name. I didn't take mom out that day. Instead I followed her daily routine. It was a pleasant and sunny day, and my mom seemed content. She called me Susie all day, my sister's name.
On Saturday, we knew we would have a tiring day for mom and us. Susie and I arrived to get mom ready for her granddaughter's wedding. Poor mom – she was tired before we even got there and slept during most of the wedding ceremony. We worried about the reception. We shouldn't have. Mom came alive as soon as the music started and danced, and danced, and danced with all her family.
I would be leaving before dawn the next morning. It was difficult to say good night to mom, not knowing when I could come out again. I sat at her bedside stroking her hair and just watching her face. I realized she had not once called me by name all week. I asked her
quietly, “Mom, do you know who I am?” Just as quietly, she said “I know you are someone I love.” That was good enough.
by Mary Phillips
Life Enrichment Coordinator at Hawthorne House
