My mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's many years ago, and thankfully, Aricept, has kept it in the early stages for a lot longer than what is considered normal.
The signs were easy to detect; my grandmother had been a victim and mom, pre-Alzheimer, had been her caretaker until she simply couldn't keep her safe. Mom had horrible feelings of guilt when the day came that she had no choice but to put "Houdini" in a nursing home, but she knew that it was the only choice. By then, it was obvious that Grammy no longer recognized her home or her family, which made the decision a bit easier to swallow.
I am mom's only daughter and I live five miles away from her. She still lives in the family home and is very content there, with her cat, her dog and her yard work, but I am her transportation. God worked a miracle a few years ago when I discovered that she wasn't really safe to be on the road driving; he made her car die and she couldn't afford another. Thanks again for that one, Lord. The little car she drove was basically a sardine can on wheels and I heard that she was backing out in front of other cars, not paying attention to such important things as red lights, and drove with her pedal to the metal.
My brothers all live at least two hours away, and although they have gotten much better about calling her on a regular basis, her care and comfort is left to me. They are very good about letting me know that they appreciate what I do for mom, and I know that I can call them and vent anytime I need to, or if she needs something, I can count on them. Mom also has a brother close by who stops and visits every couple of weeks, and a sister who is very good about taking mom places and calling her.
This week has been hell for me. Mom's Alzheimer's is definitely progressed in the past year, and it always gets worse in the late fall and winter when mom can't get outdoors and get exercise and sunshine. It's September and I am so dreading the next six or seven months, if this past week is any indication, I am in deep doo-doo. Rubber room, here I come!
When she is home, she is great. She rarely repeats herself, is funny and smart and kicks my butt regularly playing Yahtzee. But take her outside of her comfort zone, home, and she is so confused. She gets this "deer in the headlights" look that tells me the synapses are not synapse' for her and I feel bad for taking her out of her zone. She insists that she loves to go out "galavantin'" but it takes a toll on her, and on me.
Driving from her house to the store, a two mile drive, will prompt the exact comments from her every time-verbatim. "I wonder why that house always has so many cars in the yard." she'll comment as we pass the school. "God, I wish they'd put some tar down on this road!" (she did nothing but complain when it was tar instead of gravel; now that it's gravel, she does nothing but complain because it's not asphalt) "Those horses are nothing but skin and bone. I bet they don't feed them." (There's nothing wrong with the horses; they're beautiful).
And so it goes, all the way to the next town where we'll pick up her prescriptions, her dog and cat food and go to the Dollar Store. Whenever she asks a question or makes a comment, it's obvious that she wants an answer or a comment back, and so as much as I try to kind of ignore the same old remarks, I have to pay attention in order to answer. I no sooner start to answer and get "huh?", which is think is just automatic in her.
A year or so ago, I took over paying her bills for her. Her checkbook was a mess and before I could get it balanced, several checks bounced because she forgot to write them in her checkbook. By the time I got it all straightened out, the errors had cost her several hundred dollars which she really didn't have to spare. I explained to her that I was going to keep her checkbook with me because she couldn't afford to make any more mistakes and that it just seemed like she was having a rough time keeping up with it, and she readily agreed. A month ago, after I had been away for a few days with my husband and my aunt had taken her shopping, mom told me that she'd like to have her checkbook back. She said she just felt she should have it so she could go shopping if I wasn't around. I gave it back to her, against my better judgment. I went to pick her up the other day to take her to Bangor with me to run a few errands and she asks if I have her checkbook because she wants to buy some cat food. I told her that I had given it back to her just a few days ago. Well, it wasn't in her pocketbook where I had put it when I gave it back to her; she checked, I checked (twice) and we looked all around her house. I even looked in the refrigerator (one of Grammy's tricks), but it was nowhere to be found. Great. What a mess this was gonna be!
We headed to Bangor without her checkbook and I was ready to leave her in the truck in the parking lot by the time we had run a few errands. She was out of her "zone" and was having a complete Alzheimer's day. Everything was repeated at least twenty times, verbatim. I had to repeat everything I said because of her constant "huh?'s; and I was hot, sweaty and tired. I didn't even do a couple of my errands because I just wanted to get her home so I could escape!
I hardly slept that night. I was worried about her checkbook, worried about the fact that I had to take her and her dog to the vet the next day and the thought that this can't go on forever kept niggling at my brain. I had myself in such a tither that I was an absolute witch to my husband the next morning for no good reason and was having panic attacks!
I went to get her and her dog early so I'd have time to look some more for her checkbook. For whatever reason, I checked her purse and ta! da! It was back! I KNOW it was not in there the previous day, but it was back now. I asked her where she had found it and she didn't remember finding it anywhere. I'm guessing she found it, thought, "Oh, this goes in my purse" and put it back. Whatever. It's back in my purse now. She's just gonna have to live with it.
I feel terribly guilty about the days that I simply do not want to go check on mom, but I can't help it. There are days, and they are increasing in number, that I would rather have all my teeth pulled out without Novocain than take my mother anywhere. Isn't that an awful way to feel about your mother? She was such a good mother to me growing up-why is it so hard to take care of her now? It's not like she's getting on my last nerve intentionally.
A few weeks ago my brother and his wife surprised her with a visit. After they left I asked her if she knew who they were when they arrived and she admitted that she didn't. She said they looked familiar but she couldn't put names to them. I wonder; if she saw me in an unexpected place, would she know me? The answer to that question would make the decision that will ultimately be mine to make-when is it time for her to be in a care facility-a lot easier to make. Honestly, I think that it I replaced her Aricept with a placebo for a few days and moved her into a care facility, she'd be happy as a clam and not know she'd been moved. Why does that idea make me sick to my stomach? The idea of leaving her in her own home much longer, not knowing for sure that she's eating right or taking her medications correctly, makes me sick too.
I have a doctor's appointment on Monday. I've got to do something about this anxiety over a situation that I have no control over. I hate feeling this way; I love my mother but I am so overwhelmed by her care that I dread spending precious time with her.
That just ain't right.