Predictably, the shoes we got awhile back weren't acceptable to my mom (though she waited till it was too late to take them back to tell me). I don't think any pair of shoes will please her. I have reached that conclusion after buying about 5 pairs of shoes and having to keep most for myself. So I told her that she needed to wear them anyway because I was not going to buy anymore. She wore them, and they didn't hurt, though she complained that they were too high. They were flats. Sigh.
But what really got to me was that yesterday was the first time I realized that my mom has forgotten who I am. She thought I was her sister's daughter. My aunt Sheila apparently looked a lot like me when she was young. Some people in the family think I look more like Sheila than her own daughter, my cousin Carin, does. I told her she was my mom, and she didn't seem surprised, but I think she had forgotten who I was.
I know the day will come when she doesn't know at all and when she won't remember who dad is, and may start yelling when she wakes up and sees him in the room. I'm not looking forward to that day.
9 comments:
SORRY, ROBBI. YOU HAVE BEEN A WONDERFUL DAUGHTER.
BETH
Great blog, Robbi - I enjoyed reading from the beginning and look forward to more.
Melanie
I remember when this started to happen with Andrew's mother - we'd knock at teh door and she'd would open it and I'd see her eyes scan Andrew's face - and she knew that she should know him and she'd smile but I could tell that she had no idea he was her son. So she'd call for her husband to come to the door.
The last time I saw her she thought I was one of revolving team of home health care workers - strong, quiet women from the Philipines, Mexico, Latin America. She'd smile and tell me how nice I was, what good care I took of her.
It's so hard.
take care - Lisa
Melanie,
Welcome to my world! It's nice to know it's being read.
Lisa,
Thanks for telling me that. It helps to know I'm not alone. Of course I know that I'm not the only person whose mom doesn't know who the hell she is, but it helps anyhow. How did Andrew cope with it?
Robbi- Despite the near- universal experience of struggling onward to care for parents who give back so little- whether in the past or the present or the future- your daily story and the courage with which you carry on reminds me a bit of that 'fearsome' great grandfather photo you've posted. From those stories, we are each more drawn together and the power of that is nothing less awesome than the power of story to make each of us rather better and less alone than we were before we heard it.
Thanks,
Linda
Hey Linda! I found your comment here. I thought it was on the newer post. See my answer to you above.
I don't know how he did it - he just did. He had to sort of let it go, let her go. I know he wrote about it. That does help.
Halloo, Robinka--
Having seen one parent to the grave, I am very clear on the muddle of feelings one has. It doesn't matter what comes or what is past, they are still the people who in one moment of passion united a pair of cells that became a child. Who then became a woman, responsible and willing to endure.
And that is that.
But it doesn't mean it doesn't flay our hides.
On the other hand, being happy is overrated as a goal in life...
Reb and Marly,
Thanks for the experienced eye. I know I'm not alone or unique, and it helps to remember that.
It is painful to watch, to be in the middle of, but writing this and connecting with others helps.
She has pneumonia now, and is bored as hell because I won't let her go to the Senior Center. She and my dad are upset about that. He has a cold and I am trying to keep him from getting pneumonia too. It's hard to hold him down though; he shleps around in the garden like crazy and waters the plants and walks on the treadmill, etc. I'm glad he enjoys his life, but he has to be cognizant of the fact that he is 91 years old!
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