Tough day

Today was tough.  I can analyze. I can observe. I can report. But there is no escaping the emotional wrings that come, some days--some moments--more intense than seem bearable. This morning was that kind of emotional wrench.

I walked into my mom's room just as I do every morning and said: Good Morning, Mom! Ready for a new day?

I got no response; not even a look. I finally got her attention and then had to force her to get up and get dressed. She was barely walking. I practically carried her into the bathroom. She didn't want to get undressed (that's typical). She was constipated and needed assistance with that. By the time I got her back in her chair ready for breakfast, tears were rolling down my cheeks and the banner of thought scrolling through my mind was: Where is my Mother? Why is she like This?

(And in the background was my three year old pulling on me, demanding to be played with.)

There are days when I have to ask "How long can I do this?"

Not Swallowing Food (occasionally)

I have read that this is a symptom that comes in the later stages of Alzheimer's. For my mom, it isn't that she can't swallow. It seems, rather, that she simply forgets that she has food in her mouth that needs to be swallowed. She will stop chewing, pocket the food in her cheek and hold it there; however, when I remind her that she has food in her mouth, she starts chewing again, and generally, she will swallow. The most effective way to remind her is not with words but by putting another spoon full to her mouth. She doesn't take the new food because she realizes there is something in her mouth.  Only a few times has she spit the food back out.

The first time I realized that she was pocketing food in her cheek, I worried. Now, it is just another one of the odd symptoms of the messed up circuitry in her brain.

Wheelchair: Kids loved It; Mom Detested It

As much as my mom detested our suggestions that she might benefit from the occasional use of a wheelchair or a walker, my kids loved having the medical equipment around. The contest for months was who could balance the longest on the back wheels of the wheel chair. My youngest child thought that taking a ride on the walker should be his right. But my mom treated the equipment as a concession to her declining health. We compromised for awhile by taking walks with an empty wheelchair. When her legs got tired, she gladly took respite in the chair.

After one particularly bad seizure, the one that put her in the hospital and then temporarily in a care center, she used the wheelchair often, even around the house. I had her use the wheelchair each week at church simply because her balance was precarious and her energy level unpredictable. After the third week, I was helping her out of the car with the chair waiting for her, and she said, "I am not using that." I put the wheelchair back in the trunk, and she walked into church. Taking medicine and using medical equipment were my mom's sticking points; she hated to be dependent on anything or anyone.

Some of the equipment we found most useful early on were handrails in the bathroom and a raised toilet seat. The walker was never great for us. First my mom refused to use it and then she just lost the mental ability to know how to manipulate it. ie. hold on and move it forward. Shower seat has been great.