Meowing Mother is back.

Yup, our little meower is back. Now that it's a little colder both cats are in the house. Sometimes they intiate meowing and other times it's Mother doing it. More often than not she is doing a meow solo. I suppose she might be the cat whisper though especially when I find her like this repeatedly.

Holidays

Wow, time sure has flown this week and I feel like I have so much to talk about...I suppose it's because I'm back to blogging. Mother has been interesting as usual. Holidays are rough not only because of the emotional stress it puts on us all but Mother gets stressed out too; there's too much going on and just all people and movement gets her edgy. We all try to take her out and about as much as possible but this week was busier than ever. Friday our 9 month old niece came over which was great because the grandbabies are a natural way of relaxing Mother and easing her soul. Melanie and I decided to take Mother and Lily out for dinner and to wal-mart. Dinner was great. Although for some reason I wanted Mother to sit on the inside I got her to sit down but then she wouldn't let me in. I tried to scoot her over and everything and she just moaned at me. I ended up being on a third of seat. We go to the same restaurant because she knows the waitresses and it's a comfortable atmosphere. We do go to other restaurants but it does raise her anxiety level with those so we try to limit that. Mother sits grumpily because of the seat incident but as soon as Genine comes over to greet us she lights up.

 Mother hasn't been able to read for years now nor make decisions so she doesn't pay much attention to the menus. Sometimes she will pick it up and try to figure out what to do with it. As the disease progresses instead of letting her pick what she wants you have to give her choices, then once that doesn't work you lower the amount of choices, then you just kind of pick what she wants and hopes she agrees. Even if she doesn't agree we know she will like what we get because we know what she likes. Some weeks she doesn't like things she liked weeks before but she can be easily persuaded.

Mother gets her food and because she is grumpy starts moaning again when I cut her food for her. Definitely have to make those proportions sizes smaller; we don't want our lady choking now, do we? Shoot, sometimes we catch her eating things with the butterknife or scooping butter or sour cream into her mouth. You know what? The best way to explain this is to say we have a 56 year old child. After awhile Mother finishes her food and instantly gets anxious. "Where are we going? When are we leaving. I want to go." She forgot that we ordered her dessert so once again we get to watch her face light up with joy when she sees her whipped cream covered piece of cheesecake. But, of course, as soon as she is does she is ready to go. She is the boss! So off to wal-mart we go.

I'm not sure why we decided to press our luck with Mother but we did and we paid for it. We were walking around and Mother was bitching up a storm. She was so irritated and just wanted to go. She didn't want to see anyone and well, there were a million people there. We let her push the cart for a little bit. Who knew in such a short time her cart skills dramatically declined. Not only was she going slower than ever she was not staying the group. She'd just be moving along and then stop. One time I called over to her (a mere 10 ft away) and she flipped out. She march over to me and said she was going home. I felt so bad I wasn't sure what happened and why she was so upset. I calmed her down a little bit and stayed close by her. A little bit later I was talking to Mother and she flipped out again and then it dawned on me. Through the fragments, jumbled words, and reactions I had figured it out. She was embarrassed. She didn't want people looking at her. It was really like she didn't want the people to see her like she is. It was a feeling that Mom was feeling about Mother. Once I figured that out I made sure to stay closer and keep her very distracted by the goodies we found.

Oh how I wish that was the end of our trip. Minutes later Mother has a panic stricken faced. I know exactly what is wrong...she has to go to the bathroom. Ah, public bathrooms with Mother are the worst. I mean, not like going to the bathroom at home is an easy task for her/us. I volunteer to take her to the bathroom while Melanie continues to shop and watches over Lily. Uff, taking care of one adult-sized child and infant is no easy task. I lead Mother to the bathroom and as we near a stall she pulls down her pants. We aren't even in a stall yet. I'm thinking ok, now, just make it to the toilet. Pleasssssssse, make it to the toilet. To my pleasant surprise she made it! And then, I realized that I couldn't get the door shut. She wouldn't move her legs and the way she was I couldn't close the door. Even better, right? People are coming and going and I'm in the front of Mother blocking her out and trying to coach her through some stomach pains. Yes, Mother was having some stomach issues in the bathroom. She groaned and I was like oh my, what next? If  only someone hadn't been in the handicap bathroom. I definitely could have gotten her in there. After a very stressful 10 minutes Mother is feeling better and we leave.

After shopping around for a little bit Mother had a second bout of stomach issues. Oh great, I have to go through this again? Thankfully I was able to get her into the handicap stall and take care of business. Minutes go by and I continue to coach Mother through things. A bunch of younger girls came in laughing and joking around and Mother started to laugh with them. She even tried joining in the conversation but it wasn't comprehensible to them. Needless to say after this issue we immediately checked out and left. Mother was irritated and couldn't deal with it. I just wanted to avoid further unnecessary emotional stress for Mother and us.

Keeping track of her babies

Mother is still in love with her babies, all million of them, the cats, dog, and grandbabies.

Christmas Time is here!

The holidays can be quite stressful but add a little dementia to that and the stress level is through the roof. To avoid stress we sometimes give Mother a little present when she is getting upset aka 'putting her frowny face' on. She sure does love putting on that face too. I think it's a clash between two worlds when she puts it on. She's in her dementia world and then has a glimpse of real life, like where am I? Poor thing.

What do you buy for someone with dementia? We normally buy some of her favorite things like food wise or clothing. She has some spilling issues so she tends to get stains on her clothes so we try and keep her clothes updated. I decided that it may be time to take the next step in our journey; it is time for a bib. Yup, buying a bib for my Mother. When looking for them I wanted to make sure that it was a cool one. I always want her to be styling. Who says you can't look good with dementia? So I decided to get Mother this rocking bib:

Clearly, Mother will look way better in it. Tonight she got a little upset and started to get her face on so I distracted her with Christmas presents. I let her open one of her Christmas presents I got her which was a sweatshirt in her favorite color blue and this bib. She seemed pleased with it and even gave me a smile. I wasn't sure if she really liked it until Melanie and Kendra came down. They came down at separate times but to each of them she basically told them to come over and look at gifts. "You see them? They're mine!" 

Memories

 I was looking around the house for some of Mother's things and found some pictures of her. It definitely was hard looking though them and seeing life in her, real life. 

To know or to know

I've met some great people along this journey and one of them is Kim. It all started when I made a joke about dementia and she was highly offended because of her Dad suffering from the disease. She did not know that my Mother is suffering from the disease too. FYI: it's most definitely okay for us to make jokes about the disease but when someone else makes a joke it can hurt more than one would think. For someone else to make a joke hurts because they do not actually know the physical and emotional pain that is felt because of the disease. We, in a way, deserve to make these jokes.

Kim had sent me an email about dementia behaviors and talked about one question people tend to ask, "Does he/she know you?" What a multi-dimensional question that is. Yes, my Mother knows who I am, in a way. She calls everyone Meredith sure but she in her ways knows who I am. Does she know that when I had a hard time sleeping I would lay at the side of her bed and we held hands? No, not at all. I still tell her everyday that I love her even though she doesn't always respond. Growing up I would say, "Love you to the moon" and she would say, "and back again." I still say it but I say both parts. Even if it's my own imagination I feel like something in her twinkles a little bit when I say it.

I am constantly battling with my emotions. Some days I think I am ready to take on anything this disease brings my way and then there are some days where the smallest things seems to tear me apart. Mother started calling Kendra "Mom" the one day and I seemed to be okay with it and even made a joke about it but when she called me Mom I thought that I was going to cry hysterically. Making it through that moment wasn't easy but the next week when Mother introduced me to some of her softball 'friends' as her sister I just had to smile and walk away. She can't help it. At least she knows I am family and that she loves me, right?

To know cannot be simply defined; the dictionary even has several definitions for it so when someone asks me if my Mom knows me my mind races thinking of the different meanings of knowing and believe that on the surface level she knows me but as my Mother we have lost that intimate knowing years ago.

Once again I went on a little break from blogging....seems to be a little routine I go through. It definitely ties in with coping with the disease. Some days its easy to write about it and others not so much. Sometimes I think about what I am comfortable sharing and what maybe I shouldn't. And yes, there are some days I just want to cry and write very explicit things about how much I hate this disease but I try and take deep breaths to work through it (so, maybe the deep breaths can lasts for days, weeks, months...).

It was so much easier coping in the first years because the progression was so much slower and the changes weren't so dramatic. Now, it feels as if each day brings a new saddening decreased function/ability. The speed of the disease is becoming more and more rapid or it at least feels that way. The good moments still exist in their own little ways. Yesterday I was sitting in the car and Mother kept trying to go into Kendra's car even though she was supposed to come into my car. I called for her and started to get up when she finally started walking toward me. Moments later Mother was trying to sit on top of me in the driver's seat. It was actually quite comical because I could see her thinking like ahhh, wait, this isn't right. I gently reminded her that she had to go on the other side and everything seemed to easily click for her. There are those times where it doesn't click for her and she gets agitated. They can be quite interesting. In case you were wondering what Mother has been upto here's a picture.