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

to see if she, or better me, might understand. As I spoke these words, her answers were quick and responsive. “Mom, are you happy?” “Yes,” she said. “I’d rather be happy and have her hold my hand.” Okay, I thought, who is “her”? Then, without skipping a beat, she continued to say that she was happy to be alive. Her brain seemed to be firing and sparking all over the place.

The following day she only wanted to sleep. I’m sure this was out of total exhaustion. I only could wonder what I might find later on the other end of the phone.

Mom’s journey, since she has Alzheimer’s, has climbed mountains and has traveled through valleys. The rivers have flowed and at other times they have dried up. I never know what to expect. What might I experience next?

Toward the end of the week, her caregiver discovered that Mom was impacted. After she was relieved from this, she bounced back to being aware and sounding better. Almost as if what I had experienced all week never happened. If my mom cannot tell me what is going on, how can we as caregivers know how to help them?

In a strange way this fascinates me. How does the brain connect and disconnect so quickly? I only wish that my mom could explain to me what is going on. What is she feeling? What is she thinking? Since she cannot, all that I am left with is to wonder how Alzheimer’s disease can remove her vibrant ways and watch as she fades away.

Somehow, as upsetting as this can be, I have been getting used to her when she is acting this way. Yes, it hurts, and I wish I could cuddle her and take care of her, as she once did for me. Instead I take a deep breath and know in my heart that tomorrow could be a better day.

COMMENTS

Lisa,

It truly is amazing how things change minute to minute. Experiencing the disease with my mother has given me a whole new appreciation for the brain and how it works—when it works properly. It’s something we all take for granted, but it’s such a delicate balance. I, too, would give anything to know what thoughts are running through my mom’s head at any given moment. It’s such a mystery. Sending you hugs.

—Denise

Hi Lisa:

Thank you so much for sharing this with us. Fabulous effort and fabulous blog.

—Alzheimer’s Association,

Central Ohio Chapter

I read your blog with interest, as we have just moved my mum into a nursing home in my old home town—far from where her own house was, but now near to all her grandchildren. She really doesn’t remember or understand that she has moved anywhere, although she has only been there for a week—but she does wonder why there are a lot of people living with her in her house! When we explain that she is now in a nursing home where she will be properly cared for, and that she will never be on her own or lonely again, she is so happy and grateful—this, from the woman who swore she would go kicking and screaming into a home.

—Joni

Dear Lisa,

Thank you for your blog. I just read this tonight and thought that it captures my thoughts and the love I have for my dad who has was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s about five years ago. I live about six hours’ drive from my parents, and my dad has been in a secure home the past three years. I phone my mom every week because I know that every day is precious and it is the least I can do when living so far away. It is now very difficult because my dad speaks very little and has largely forgotten who my family are. I wish you all the very best in your efforts to support your mom and hope that she can hold on to those memories of you her daughter for the longest time.

Kind regards,

Jonathon

October 15, 2012

Sounds of Joy

This is the second week in a row where mom has sounded really good. She has been alert, upbeat, and filled with clarity. We have been able to engage in our daily conversations. I have purchased my plane tickets to visit her and will be arriving in eight weeks. I am hoping that when I get to her home, she will still be having her better days. However, eight weeks is still a long time away.

The last time that I visited her with my husband, her days were not great and being with her was painful to watch. It brought up sadness and frustration. As my trip is getting closer, I start to feel some different emotions. As of now I am surrounded with excitement, yet feel a small knot in my stomach.

Just today, Mom so cutely said that she only hopes that she can remember when I will be arriving. She asked me to please remind her and hopes that she will not forget. I laugh with her as she speaks these words and reassure her that I will not let her forget.

Mom offered to help me make her “famous” meatloaf when I visit, since she cannot remember the recipe herself. Simple things like this excite me. I delight in each small thing she says, as if I was watching my son speak his first words or take his first steps. Her good days come and go, so I always cherish those special moments.

It doesn’t matter what we may speak about, it is just that we are still able to speak. She touches my heart in so many different ways. I can no longer talk to my dad, and in reality the day will come when I can no longer speak to her.

Mom has no memory anymore of anything, including my dad, her marriage, and her youth. Maybe she still has glimpses that come to her, yet as they pass by so quickly she