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

Alzheimer’s for two years. It was the hardest but most rewarding job I’ve had, she was family to me—like a grandmother, I loved her to pieces and vice versa. Sadly she passed away in spring of last year, shortly before her ninetieth birthday. I’ve been working as a volunteer and intern with the Alzheimer’s Association since July of this year and love it. It is such a wonderful organization, and everyone I’ve worked with has been super nice. I hope to work with them full time after I finish with school. Anyway, I just wanted to send a wee message/hello after reading your blog. Have a lovely week!

—Suzi

September 11, 2012

Interviewing My Mom

With Alzheimer’s

“Mom, what does it feel like not to be able to remember something?” She answered, “It is Wow, I not always so bad not to remember everything.” thought. Several years before I had presented a similar question to her, for I often wondered what it must be like. I too sometimes forget some simple things, and for a second I think, Do I also have the beginnings of dementia? I quickly joke about it, although deep inside the question still remains.

I have no fear of asking her any questions, for I know that it will not upset her. Immediately after I ask her something, it disappears from her memory. Her answer to this same question several years ago was quite touching. Mom had said, “I know that whatever happened yesterday to me had to be nice, whether I can remember it or not.”

Back to the present, I continue with, “Mom, does any of this frighten you?” Her quick reply is, “No, it’s not scary because if you cannot remember something, you just don’t remember it.” With such wisdom, Mom was able to answer me so easily. She then started to reminisce about her own mother and growing up in Williamsburg and Coney Island, which are both located in Brooklyn, New York.

“Mom, do you remember your mother’s name?” “Of course, it was Pauline Schnitzer.” “Mom, what’s your name?” “Ruth Schnitzer.” “What was your father’s name?” She simply says, “I cannot remember.” With much surprise in my voice, I respond with, “His name was Louis.” My own father passed away seventeen years ago, yet I wonder if she even knows his name. She must, for it’s my dad, and they were married for almost fifty years. I became brave and questioned her, yet she does not remember.

“Mom, how many brothers or sisters do you have?” “I have both a brother and a sister.” Wrong again. My mom had only one (younger) brother who died from Alzheimer’s six years ago. I decided to lighten up and move far away from this conversation.

As we continued to speak I did not understand what she was trying to say, so I responded with, “Mom, I do not understand what you just said.” She must have felt a little frustrated for she answered, “If I was speaking French or Spanish, then you could not understand me.” “You are absolutely correct,” I said, and we both started to giggle like two teenage girls. I was thrilled, because between some things she said, there seemed to be quite a few times that she was lucid. I was able to fantasize for several moments that she did not have Alzheimer’s.

I returned home almost a week now, and each day that I speak to my mom she seems to have some recollection that I was there. She cannot really express this, although she has questioned me every day as to when I will be coming to visit. Now when I exit from her home, I can no longer have my real goodbyes, for in the past she has gotten quite upset. So when I leave I simply say, “Mom, I’ll see you later.”

Today my mom shared with a light, upbeat voice that when she woke up she was looking all over her home for me and could not find me. For a moment it made my heart sink. It saddened me that we lived so far apart, yet there was a sound of joy that came from her voice. I knew that she was feeling happy.

Later in the day I phoned my mom again, just to hear her sweet voice. Her caregiver Trudy said that after I hung up earlier, my mom had been going around her home once again calling my name. Her voice shouted, “Lisa, Lisa, are you here?” Hearing this made my heart ache. Should I jump on a plane and run back to her?

It’s been exactly one week since I was at her home. After hanging up the phone, it left me with a piece of my heart broken in two. For the rest of day, I kept hearing Janis Joplin singing, “Take another little piece of my heart.”

I often wonder how this little lady, who stands only four feet, ten inches tall, can melt my heart each day in such a way that I cannot contain my love for her. It seems to overflow with abundance and affection. Although I know that my mom cannot remember anything and may not always be able to express herself and all her feelings, I am still left with some comfort.

Deep in my heart I do feel that she is not suffering and is relatively happy. I truly believe that it is the families that suffer the most. Either way, Alzheimer’s is a cruel disease that eventually takes one’s life.

For me, because of my mom I have committed myself to spreading awareness about Alzheimer’s and only hope that what I write can help other families find some comfort. I wish all of you much love, and I hope you know that I truly care and do understand.

COMMENTS

Lisa,

I know how you feel about your heart feeling broken. I am so happy for you, though, that you have such a sweet relationship with your mom in these difficult times. My mother became