The Name Game - Who's Her Favorite?

I think it’s safe to say that most of us who have a brother or sister have been summoned by our parents by the name of the other sibling. When that occurs a sibling may chuckle and jest that this is proof as to who Mom's favorite child is.

Of course Mom would say that she loves us equally and has no favorite. But, I beg to differ. Throughout each and every day, I here, “Renee!”, the name of my darling sister. “Renee, come here please.” or “Renee, I need help with my TV.” or, “Thank you, Renee!” Mostly, I just smile graciously and carry out her request, but a time comes when I just can't take it anymore. 

The thing that gets my goat the most is when my own birth mother completely forgets that joyous day when she gave birth to me and I received my rightful place in the family as the adored first born daughter,  endearingly named "Marie".  It's a name unlike any other name. A name to be proud of. It speaks gently and softly of the one who possesses it. It is lovely, warm, and kind.  It is wonderful!  How could anyone forget it or trade it in for any other name. My Mom could, and actually did!

Somehow after the passing of six decades she decides to suddenly and overtly adjust the system of nomenclature and change my first name! And not to a name of someone of note and distinction. No, that would be too kind. But to a name from second place. One which  to my chagrin seems to more easily flow from her two lips--- the name of the "pretty one" as Mom too often says--- "Renee!" "Hey Renee, did you find my teeth?"

Today I refuse to answer to Renee. As her hardworking caregiving firstborn daughter, she will learn to call me by my given name. She will call me Marie! 

A few minutes later, after a brief moment of silence I ask, "Hey mom, did Renee find your teeth? "Well, let's just wait for Renee (who happens to live in another state by the way) to show up and find those missing teeth of yours, shall we? And while she's at it, she can answer all those other questions you've asked her today!" She then laughs. I unexpectedly chuckle and snicker, wondering if this could be what I think it is? A brief moment of recognition of my actual name after an entire week of conversation addressed to Renee? If so..., I think I'll take it.

Captain On the Fridge!

 

Normally she eats breakfast lying in bed in her "apartment." But, on this particular day she decided to be the captain of her ship. She's calling the shots today!  "Attention on deck! Captain on the Bridge."  And, today she wants to eat breakfast with her children in the kitchen! 

Eating at the kitchen table would be okay if it weren't for two issues: 

Issue #1- "There's no food in the fridge!" Oh, there's plenty of food in the kitchen. fresh fruit, dry fruit, canned goods, and such. There's also plenty of meat in the freezer, and fresh veggies in the bins, but when you open up the fridge all you see is whiteness!

Issue #2- Mom seems to think there should be a TV in every room in the house. There's no TV in the kitchen, just the music playing from an Alexa device! "Why is there no TV in here?" she asks.

It figures that she would want to show up in the kitchen just before shopping day! I'm hyper-panicking, and hyper-ventilating as I try to keep her from looking inside the fridge.

Why can't she just settle for a quick hello and then stroll back to her room and wait to be served like normal old people?  But no, the Captain wants to micromanage everything in the kitchen today, and no doubt, work her way over to the fridge. "Attention On Deck! Captain on the Fridge!"

Breakfast or Bust

 

Some days Mom wakes up in a stern and austere mood. I soon realize that nothing I do for her today is going to go over well. If that wicked scowl didn’t send me the message of her mood, her tone of voice certainly did leaving the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. It seems she woke up from the curse of Maleficent and if that were not enough, she projects the deepest commando man voice I ever heard. A bass voice that literally shakes me to my core. How could this earth-shattering voice possibly come out of this 5ft 2inch little woman's body? 

Breakfast is usually served by 10:00 AM This particular day, the clock strikes 10:01 AM, I hear Mom snatch open her bedroom door and scurry toward the kitchen saying, "Am I going to have breakfast today?" in that all too familiar commando tone. Mind you, just a few weeks ago, before she came to live with me, by her own choice, she not only ate once a day at precisely 2:00 PM, but some days she preferred to just snack.  Now I'm the short-order cook to whom she will gladly let know when something is not quite to her liking - and please, never be late serving her meal. It took everything in me not to reply, “No, Ma’am. We’re fasting today.” But, I swallowed that retort and meekly served her breakfast. 

My favorite request is when she smiles and kindly asks, "Do you have something I can nibble on?" Yes, we must keep 'Miss Nibbler' satisfied. That means keeping ample amounts of corn chips, cookies, and ice cream handy. I don't mind. Whatever keeps her happy is fine with me. 

Accepting Her Reality

 

"Is It Dreary or Sunny?"

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 straight jacket 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, 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.

Keywords: weather humor, loosing ones mind. accepting reality, frustration and resentment, forgetting, senile senility, aging humor, care for an older family member, dealing with memory loss, stories about dealing with dementia

Hashtags:#aginghumor, #caringforanolderfamilymember, #dealingwithmemoryloss, #storiesaboutdealingwithdementia

"The Gardner?"

"Tools of The Trade"

Mom often asks about two people and two people only. The Gardner and her son-in-law, Angelo. We are flattered that Mom thinks the establishment in which she resides comes with a Gardner. Why not? It has two servants who wait on her hand and foot, so why not a Gardener? And while we're at it let's throw in a housekeeper, a concierge nurse, a beautician, a seamstress and a local door-to-door arabber!

But, who is this mystery Gardener she keeps talking about? I hate to break it to her, but sometimes I have to advise her, "We have no Gardener, Mom." "We don't?" Mom replies quite surprised. I continue, "You're referring to Angelo, your son-in-law, who happens to tend to our flowers, vegetable gardens, and does all the yard work." "Oh, so he's the one cutting the grass outside my window." Mom responds chuckling. "Yes, he's the one." I respond laughing too.

It's ironic that Angelo's mother-in-law refers to him as the Gardener. He's the one who tolerated me during our travels across state lines as we went to great lengths to find the ideal home needed to accommodate Mom. He's also the one who actually sketched out the landscape design for the front of our home prior to the move to Pennsylvania. He organized and managed the move, including breaking down the furniture, packing the boxes (with my help of course), and carrying everything into the moving pod.

He single-handedly moved everything into our new home, reattached the furniture, painted the interior and exterior of the house, added wall and window treatments, and executed the landscaping designs, not only in the front yard but the back as well, which allows us to enjoy beautiful indoor and outdoor dedicated spaces. When I think of how he planned it all out and worked non-stop until everything was in it's place, I feel like I fell in love with him all over again. Who knew he had it in him to accomplish all of this with such patience, forethought, spirituality and faith. "I didn't know..." Mom says surprised and amused, "I didn't know Angelo is the Gardener."

Keywords: the gardener, moving, landscaping, organizing, servants, housekeeper, gardening humor

Hashtags: #funnyblogsaboutaging, #careforanolderfamilymember, #funnystoriesaboutcaregiving, #aging humor,#humorousstoriesaboutfamilylife, humorousblogaboutseniors

Got Mints?

"... a peppermint fix!"

It's 5 am in the morning. Angelo and I are finally enjoying the most blissful part of our sleep. There is a knock on our bedroom door.  "Renee!" (not my name!) "Renee, are you awake?" I stir somewhere between sleep and and not so asleep. "Ma'am?" "Renee, are you awake?" "Not until you started knocking on my bedroom door! Mom, what do you want at 5 am in the morning?" I'm so sorry to bother you. But, do you have any mints and cough drops?" My brain is now screaming, What?!? OK someone's sanity meter has just pivoted between loco and wackadoo! "Mom, really! You woke me up for candy?" I ask, still trying to wake up. 

Odd as this experience was, I read in a medical journal that a person with dementia frequently shows little sympathy or empathy for others.  As dementia progresses, dietary restraint decreases while cravings for sugary foods increase. I guess this is to be expected. It doesn't keep me from wanting to open my bathroom window across the hall and scream, HELP! I wobble back to the dresser draw scratching my head. I grab a handful of mints and hand them to her. Now all is right in her world so she thanked me profusely and again apologized for interrupting my sleep.

Maybe, I'll put off opening the bathroom window and screaming for help. After all, most of our neighbors are still sleeping.  And although it's not quite right in my little corner of the world, I'll have no problem getting back to sleep. "Night, night sweetie. Love you." "Good night Mom. Love you too." Getting back into my bed, Angelo rolls over, looks at me and whispers "Are you actually smiling?" Turning over I grin at him and I sigh myself back to sleep.

Keywords: stories about aging, losing dietary restraint, cravings for sugary foods, dementia and loss food cravings,

Hashtags: #storiesaboutsibling #transitioningtoanewhome, #adjustingtonewlivingsituations, #oldersiblingbanter, #conversationsbetweensiblings #funnyphoneconversations

Coming Home - A Smile Speaks Volumes

"Home is where the heart is"

On our way home from a long day out, Mom sat in the passenger seat searching through her pocketbook for a mint. I knew that she was tired and ready to relax. She asked me for the fifty-eleventh time “What day is this?” “It’s Tuesday” I replied. “We’re almost home.” She looked up from her search and asked, “What city is this?” I told her and then she asked looking rather puzzled, “Do I live with you and Angelo?” “Yes” I replied. “Since when?” I looked over to her and said, “For almost a year now.” “I don’t remember that” she said. “I know, Mom” I uttered with a sigh. “But your things are there, and you’ll recognize them when we get home.” 

We soon arrived home. As I pulled up to our front door, I remembered that smile she had on her face as she entered our home, her new home, for the first time almost a year ago. I got her settled in for the evening and as I kissed her good night, I looked at her face, she again had that same smile which filled my heart with satisfaction.

Keywords: heart warming story about aging, forgetfulness and aging, taking care of mother, stories about caregiving, dealing with memory loss

Hashtags: #heartwarmingstoryaboutaging #forgetfulness #takingcareofmother #caregiving #storiesaboutcaregiving