FRIDAYS WITH MOM

Fridays with Mom began about 9 years ago when the Breakfast Club was formed. I wasn’t in favor of the forcing of it, but then, my vote was only one of nine. Siblings that is.

Actually, we were all taking care of our Mother in some way or another for many years before that, since our father passed when he was 69 years old and she was 63. She didn’t need a lot of “help” then, just companionship, comfort and the security of knowing that we would all still rally around as a family as we had always done. And, we did! Besides our Faith, family has always been our biggest strength and our parents accomplishment in the hardship of a life lived so far from either of their roots and family (Colorado and New Jersey).

Picture taken of Mom (center back) and all nine children. I'm 3rd oldest and back row left.

So, with this new order of having breakfast one day a week with our Mother at a set time, mine was on Fridays. But then, she and I were spending many Friday mornings together anyway, going to morning Mass and then ocassionally breakfast somewhere after. But, she was 86 now and beginning to need more care. She wasn’t eating right, remembering well, and especially not hydrating enough. Even with all of that, I had a problem with forcing ourselves on our independent-minded Mother of nine who was always the one in control. No one likes to be told what to do, least of all someone as Irishly-independent and set in her ways as our dear Mother. But we, the newly organized Breakfast Club of nine adult children (as the boys voted to call us) did indeed inforce this mandate on us and on Mom.

She wasn’t pleased.

She did, however, go along with it because by now she was living alone in a Senior Apartment complex, after making the hard decision to sell her rural homeplace of 40 years. She seemed to enjoy having someone there each morning to share her Daily Devotions with and of course, morning coffee, hot tea and breakfast. She was still free to come and go, drive herself around and visit daily with people her age. Before breakfasts began, all her children and extended family visited her often, but sometimes often isn’t enough. However, as the breakfast dates got going though, it was harder and harder for her to appreciate them. She was loosing her independence. She was also loosing more of her memory. We didn’t know it then, but it was dementia and when thinking back, it probably started about the time of the her huge and emotional move from home to town. Now, changes in her daily schedule, eventually loosing her driving privileges, as well as a different person each day for breakfast, began to take their toll. She also had a hard time adjusting to being driven each week to church by one of us, and me taking her to get groceries each week, then eventually my brother. The sudden and tragic loss of her oldest son put her over the edge a couple of years later. That took a serious toll on all of us.

Again, after much thought, family meetings, prayer and planning, she was invited to live next to her youngest son and his family on their rural home place. When I say “next to” I mean they shared the same back patio, the back door of her cottage being 19 steps from their back door. Planning! She was grateful. And she was back in the country with green grass instead of concrete, song birds, blue bird houses and hummingbird feeders. Horses were in the pastures surrounding her on two sides and deer and wildlife abounded again. Even a wild peacock.

As the Breakfast Club continued with our duties in her new home, we found them to become much more of a challange. Change is just too much for someone with dementia/alzheimers. She tried but couldn’t get passed the loss of her son. A year later, she couldn’t even comprehend the sudden loss of her great-nephew who was only 24 years old. She kept calling him “my grandson”. She was in deep sudden mourning once again. The short-term memory was really bad now. Names became harder to remember of those she didn’t see very often. The dementia related outbursts and anger – a natural side-effect of the disease – were worse with the anxiety and stress of her day to day living. Perscription drugs (hip-breakers as they are known) were not an option as we opt out of anything un-natural to cause her to become a mental and emotional vegetable sooner. She faught taking anything natural or less inhibiting and was still way too alert to notice anything slipped in her morning tea. She refused taking any perscription her doctor ordered that would “just take the edge off”. You can lead a horse to water...

The Nursing Home was not an option, God willing!

And so, my Fridays and Sundays with Mom became less about spending quality time with her and enjoying it and more about taking care of and tending to all the needs of a special-needs person who didn’t want me to. I already had experience with that from a special-needs adoption that nearly took the life out of me, if it weren’t for Jesus! And, I didn’t think I could do it again. I did my best. I prayed constantly, I cried, I tried again and again to be the saint she deserved to have taking care of her. When I wasn’t with her, I loved her and missed her and worried hundreds of nights about her being alone. And then I bit my impatient tongue a thousand times when I was with her. (I came to the conclusion that your best intentions can get sucked into thin air as fast as you can form them in your own mind!) Fridays became more days of the week when called on to cover for someone. And when you were with her, she “never has a moments peace with so many people coming and going” and “it’s like Grand Central Station around here”. The minute any of her children or hired caregivers were not around or in the house, she was calling one of us to come over because “no one has been around all day”. Growing old is not for sissys she lamented often. But, she and we the Breakfast Club marched on as best we could. The Nursing Home was still not an option, God willing!

Eventually I found myself “letting go and letting God”. I found peace in my prayer and contemplation time. Early morning meditation or “tea time with God” gave me the patience and endurance I needed to hold out “just a little longer” each week. Finally, over time, I found myself enjoying, even relaxing at our tea time together at breakfast. I sat and listened. I learned how not to get caught up in the “fix it for her” game whenever she complained, which was often. I learned that I didn’t need to insist that she let me help her with a shower, or take her to a hair appointment when she didn’t want to go, wash the dishes or clean the floors despite the need. Instead, I just sat and watched a million re-runs of Gunsmoke, Bonanza episodes and John Wayne movies. The familiar faces on tv were about the only thing that brought her enough comfort and peace that she could and would actually fall asleep on the sofa with someone else in her house. Nothing else could.

Now, almost 6 years into her living in her home next to my brother’s, it is clear that she can no longer be alone - at all. She requires 24-hour care and attention. The Breakfast Club plus all the outside help and hired caregivers is not enough to go around. She does not need to be alone. So, it was back to the drawing board and more family (sibling) meetings, prayer, and planning. The Nursing Home thing was set in motion and what a nightmare and headache of paperwork and qualifying it is.

Fortunately, that wasn’t my department. But, my natural instincts were of course, to step in and “fix it” and take her in, as I have wanted to a million times before in the last 30 years. The Husband and I even offered once, after my father died in 1988, but she in her right mind then, knew it was not the “right time” for either of us.

As they say, “every need is not a call". I have known in my heart (not in my head) that God was telling me to back off this time on this one. It was not my call. The Husband said the same. We (wives) must listen to our husbands, and most especially to God. If they are a good husband, they are listening to God, too, and we do pray together every day, so I can presume we are on the same page. Peace is the proof when you are. So, as much as I wanted too, I had to back off, and we were facing the Nursing Home thing again. My stomach churned.

Unfortunatly, with the Covid thing going around, the Nursing Home is a most undesirable place to be or to send someone at this time. No visitors, no family, no loved one’s voice or touch, except through a window or phone line? Is this not crazy? Death would be a relief, wouldn’t it, for the souls who are waiting for God anyway. “Did He forget me?” is a statement made often by our 94 year old, who thinks she is left behind.

And then, out of the blue, my brother, her 3rd oldest son announces that they want to take her in. At least for now, and to give us all (here in Arkansas) a break. He offered to give her round-the-clock care. He lives in Colorado, our father’s home state. He’s about to retire from the airlines and he and his wife have made the generous offer. I guess they got "the call". Does he even understand what he is undertaking, having not been here all along, but only on visits? Not likely, but all things are possible with God. So, last week again, after much planning out all the particulars, the travel, the care, the preperations and the excruciating “this is the next step, Mom” thing (no, that wasn’t easy!) she was off on a plane with two of her grown children and arriving safely with only 3 hours in the air.

She was homesick before she got there and then she was tired and confused but happy when she arrived. The emotions, homesickness and confusion continue but her Faith and courage is there, as always.

And this is what Dementia/Alzheimers looks like on a nightstand - the next morning there:

Her denture cup, denture brush and a bottle of Dawn from her kitchen sink. How did she even get that on a plane??? And did she use the Dawn on her dentures? My sister said her gums were a little raw the next day. They have been treating them as if she did.

Almost a week into it, she still cries when I call. I cry when we hang up. I sat in her empty, lonely house the day after she left and cried it all out. I washed her sheets and bedclothes. I hugged her sofa pillow. I watched Gunsmoke. I can’t believe she’s not here. I miss her terribly. I've never lived away from her in all my 65 years. My first Friday morning without her was a BEAR. A bad bear!

The one consolation is that my brother says she really is doing good considering everything. She’s trying hard to be brave in her confusion, enjoys everywhere he is taking her sightseeing, loves their little Chapel (obviously open to the public) and went to Sunday Service for the first time in 5 months – because they are able to go even during the COVED pandemic. God is good!

Exploring the Black Canyon on the 3rd day in Colorado!

It isn’t perfect. It’s what we can do, for now.

She is loved! Even God wouldn’t argue with that.

And I am gratefull for Fridays with Mom!

~ Gwen of IRISH ACRES