Tuesday, May 5, 2015

The Card - Big Things Can Come In Small Packages

Like a hunter stalking their prey, Mom is always searching for mail. Not a drawer or room is safe from her quest. 

It took months of tedious work to deal with Mom's mail before we moved her. If it came in the mail, she saved it, end of story. There were over 10 garbage bags of junk mail stacked up in piles, in boxes and in file folders. Yes, just junk mail that Mom had stashed away and saved. Even getting rid of it was a challenging task. If I didn't get moved out of eye sight or hauled away fast enough Mom would unload the bags and get angry at me for taking away her important papers. She also would salvage rotten food I would throw away on each visit. Yuck!

That back-story brings us to yesterday. Yesterday, a card came for in the mail for Mom from an old friend. With apprehension I decided let Mom read it. I know not giving Mom her mail makes me sound like a bad son, but wait there is more to the story and this may be the last mail I let her read.  

Within five minutes of Mom reading the card, it happened. Question after question in her bitter tone of voice. "Who decided to bring me here"? "Why can't I live with my friend"? Etc, etc. It was near 30 minutes of hell because her dementia won't let her remember anything is wrong with her. Anyway, after several tries, I finally got the topic changed and we were done. At least I though we were done.

This brings us today and the continued fallout from that one lone card yesterday. 

Mom came out around 9:00 for breakfast looking pretty wild-eyed and her hair all a strew. She had used the bathroom around 6:30 and I could hear her moving around in her room afterwards, so I knew something would be up sooner or later.

Breakfast went off without a hitch and she headed back to her room. Thinking I'd dodged a bullet, I was pretty happy. Well I should have known better. Within five minutes Mom was back out with two pieces of paper in hand. Once I got close enough I could see they were 8 x 10 photos. Oh, oh! 

One was a picture of Grandpa and Grandma, Dad's parents, the other was a picture of Kel when she was 4. Mom knew that she should know everyone in the photo's but she couldn't remember. I explained who everyone was and she wrote the names on the back of each photo. 

Trying to explain Kel was now 24 not 4 was a total lost cause, but hey I tried. However, the mention of Dad brought forth the, "where is Jack", question. In fact not just once but several times back-to-back. Then came the "what happened to him"? several times.  Then the conversation turned to "why am I here"? "Who's in my house"? "Do I own a house"? "I'm thinking I want to move home".

Ugh! It just never stops. 

On top of all that, she has no idea who I am today. She thinks I might be her son, but she can't remember my name. Don't get me wrong, I can deal with her loss of memory, it's kind of funny at times, but it's the continuous badgering that gets to me. At one point when she asked how Dad died I wanted to say, "Your constant badgering gave him 3 heart attacks and he died". I didn't say that and wouldn't, but I think it's true. 

Thanks again for reading! Have a great day!

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