My Mom My Hero: Alzheimer's - A Mother and Daughter's Bittersweet Journey by Hirsch, R. (mind reading books .txt) 📗

yet I can laugh with her and enjoy the moments that we have left. And guess what? Out of my mom’s seven daughters, I’m still her favorite one. Lucky, lucky me!

So I wonder, is it better to have my cup half full or half empty? There is nothing I can change other than how I hold everything. I am grateful for all that we still have left, and cannot think about all that is lost. For this my cup will remain half full.

COMMENTS

Your story touched me deeply, I lost my mom to Alzheimer’s last July, it’s been a long and hard journey watching her forget who she is and who her children and grandchildren are, and watching her body slowly break down then finally losing her. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family. Treasure your memories.

—Nanette

Be grateful for the cup. I lost Mom three years ago (it seems like yesterday) yet I hear her talking to me today. I cry from the pain of remembering but laugh at what was and keep moving forward

—Beth

Lisa,

What a gift you give us by sharing your story and love for your mother! Your story is so touching and I hope it will help others to focus on those moments of joy and life’s little blessings. What a difference we can make in the world when we see the cup as half full. And I am so glad you are the favorite of the seven daughters! LOL

—Samantha

My mom died when I was eleven and my dad when I was twenty-one. I have never had to deal with aging parents. I guess I have to see your cup as half full. I know it must be difficult. You also have to keep her safe too. I have told my children that I don’t really want to go to a nursing home, but if it comes to that point I will trust them to make the right decision. I don’t want to be a problem for them. Your mother sounds like she would feel the same way.

I hope you won’t be too hard on yourself if you have to put her in a nursing home. Just enjoy the time you have as you are doing. Good luck to you and take care.

—Denise

Lisa,

I was very touched by your tribute to your mother. I must say the story sounds familiar in many ways. However, my mother lost her fight against this disease this month. I am torn between feeling relief that her suffering has ended and the fact that my mother has really died. I spent so much time and energy caring for her for the past few years that I am feeling a little lost right now. I have channeled my energy into raising funds and awareness for the Alzheimer’s Association. However, I still find myself thinking of all the things Mom might need from me. I want to comment on the “you are her favorite daughter” thing you mentioned. How sweet! My mother has three children, two boys and me. The last year of her life I became like a sister to her. She was an only child, so that was a strange concept. However, if she got mad, she remembered I was her daughter! The very last month of her life, she seemed to think I was her daughter most of time. I treasured that. It was a small thing, but as you are aware, all the emotion and difficulties you survive when you have or care for someone with this disease make each little shining moment important. Keep up the good work—awareness is an extremely important tool in this fight against Alzheimer’s. Good luck and God bless.

—Lena

February 5, 2012

A Day Filled With Sunshine

Today was a really good day for my mom, as were the last several days. My heart seems to go up and down with lightness and heaviness depending how she is doing each day. I know this has to be a normal response and I do not question it. I just know that this is how it is ever since my Ruthie became ill with Alzheimer’s.

Fortunately for us, Mom still has enough good moments for me to have a smile on my face and to delight in our daily phone calls. Just today after we sang several songs that neither of us remembered the words to, I said, “Mom, are you my sweetheart,” My Ruthie answered with, “No, how could we be? We’re both girls. If you were not a girl, then I could call you sweetheart.” We both giggled, and at that moment I think even Mom understood how silly our conversation was. I become overjoyed just hearing the sound of her laughter.

The next part of what I’m about to share was at a moment that my heart felt quite heavy.

As I sat in the waiting room for a tour of another nursing home for my mom, I was left in deep thought and feeling rather sad. I have seen the dementia floors in several nursing homes only to keep feeling that my mom was not ready for this. Although Mom’s illness will progress, I know that she has some life left in her. Bringing her to one of these places will probably upset her, and the thought of it seems to sicken me.

My husband has been touring these facilities with me, and we are sadly starting to speak about our own mortality and what might lie ahead for us. I’m sure that if my mom could reason and truly understand what her illness will be doing to her as it progresses, she’d probably wish deep in her heart to be able to say goodbye.

Mom on most days seems happy, yet she has no idea what day or year it is. She doesn’t knows where she lives, nor can she remember most of the events in her life. I’ve often described her mind like a blank