Accepting Her Reality

Happy Family Matters

Written by daughter, B. Marie

2/22/24 10:16 AM  

As the caregiver, my question is: what will this do to my reality over time? I'm afraid that if I crawl into her head, I'll get lost and not find my way back to my own reality.  Like, how do I accept her reality that people are living upstairs over her apartment, when we actually live in a one-floor ranch house? 

How do I accept that although the weather is actually sunny, she needs the window blinds closed because the weather is dreadful? How do I accept that I have to be the one to always turn on her bedroom lights and close her bedroom blinds, or move her meal tray, even though she gets up several times during the day and at night to go to the bathroom and scampers into the kitchen to find something to nibble on? Am I missing something here?

My greatest fear is that if I start accepting her reality, I'll end up living in it as well. Before you know it, I'll be shipped off to the looney bin, strapped in a straitjacket long before she ever gets there! 

Angelo and I used to joke about what the other should do if one of us turns senile. "When I go senile, just play the same episode of my favorite TV show day and night. I won't know the difference." We would laugh, then add, "When I go senile, just play the same R&B song all day long. I'll be happy, and that's all that matters." "When I go senile serve the same meal every day, all day and I'll say, '"Ooh look! Something new!"' And lap it up like I never had it before."

Now that we are caregivers, we realize nothing could be further from the truth. Mom likes to mix it up. She quickly tires of certain things repeated daily. Like the same fruit cup, or the same dinner meat, or the same fruit juice, or even the same TV show episode.

However, she does keep the same routine. She likes to rise early, watch TV at 8 AM, and eat at 10 AM. Her food needs to be cooked to her liking, and she retires at precisely 11 PM.  Some days she's the child, and on other days she is the picky and critical parent. She argues if there is any deviation from the norm as she sees it on that given day. 

I guess it's true: if you accept their reality by not arguing with them each time they fail to adjust to your own reality, there will be a lot less dementia drama, frustration, and resentment from forgetting. I'll keep working on it. Someone once said, "The burden of adjustment falls on the one who can bear the burden of adjusting." I guess for now, until it's my children's turn to accept my reality, the burden falls on me to accept my Mom's reality.

My Adventures as Mom's Caregiver - New Beginnings

Happy Family Matters

Written by daughter, B. Marie

2/22/24 10:16 AM  

"A Caregivers Beginning"

“Family” ---when I hear that word it still makes me feel warm and fuzzy. My story starts after my premature birth as Mom stroked and held my tiny hand in the incubator every day at the hospital for two months until she was able to bring me home. She swaddled, cuddled, nurtured, fed, cared, comforted, and taught me with abiding love.

My childhood is filled with precious memories of bursting outdoors to play with friends, stepping over my brother's Matchbox car sets and laughing over board games, playing with jacks, bat and ball sets, dolls, going to the movies, and frequenting concerts. As a family of loving parents and three children, the eldest being me, we also enjoyed numerous fun family gatherings and trips. My father was from North Carolina, the son of a Baptist Preacher and the youngest of twelve. He was a charismatic fun-loving man who retired from being a juice distributor for over five decades. He enjoyed traveling, fishing and entertaining his family and friends. He taught my brother, Lamar, important life lessons and how to be a man. Their bond became a deep and lasting friendship. Although at the end, Dad lived with Alzheimer's disease, he was frequently heard saying, "life don't owe me no change because I lived a long, happy, and satisfying life with no regrets."

Born in South Carolina, my Mom was the youngest of eight. After graduating from high school she moved from her family's farm in the country to the Big Apple, New York City, under the care of an older relative. Mom is sweet, charming, a devout church goer and was a proud hard working woman until her retirement. By her example of dress, grooming, and public decorum she taught me and my sister, Renee, the true essence of being a lady. She managed her household and finances so well that I aspire to follow suit. 

Due to the onset of dementia my siblings and I met to discuss our mother's ongoing care. Fortunately, prior to this need we held a family meeting with our Mother to discuss in detail her living will, medical directive, end of life preferences, and to set up her legal power of attorney. Because I am retired and have the circumstances to accommodate our Mom, my husband and I are her personal caregivers. We're talking about family here and you only have one mother. She's the same woman who carried me in her womb for seven months until my premature birth. She's the same woman who lovingly cared for and nurtured me from  my youth. Mom's daily routine of reading the Bible and hearing her frequent prayers awakened my spirituality. It's only proper to do whatever is necessary to make her comfortable and happy, especially now when she needs me most. This is my way of continuing to demonstrate the respect and honor that she so well deserves. However, when the roles are reversed, it can get emotionally exhausting. We’ve all heard of the saying, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” Well, when writing this blog that is mainly my intention to keep a positive lemony twist on life. You know, looking at the glass as being half full even though at times it's half full of nuts!

Keywords: humorous story about aging, stories about dealing with dementia, life growing up, funny tails about retirement, funny journals about caregiving, the funny side of getting older, taking care of an older family member, aging comedy

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