If what I've said sounds a little extreme, let me describe the situation. My mother's thoughts and vocalisations go in very narrow patterns. One is the "Hello" syndrome, another is the "I'm sorry but I don't feel well" syndrome, a third is the "Are you allright?" syndrome, and another is what I call "The Inquisition". From the moment she awakes in the morning, until the moment she falls asleep at night. my mom vocalises pretty continually. It is either in one of the above veins, or else it is a complaint about pain.
The "Hello" repetition is especially - what can I say - irritating? It can go on for hours at intervals of less than a minute, at times. I respond and try to make a conversation out of it, but the conversational response from her end is very limited. It's the same with the "Are you allright?" query, which goes something like this: "Am I allright?" . . . "Are you allright?" That reminds me of learning Latin - "Conjugate the verb 'to be allright'....."
Fortunately, we have a number of pets - 2 dogs and several cats - and they are always moving around, coming and going, and that provides her with an opportunity to draw my attention to their doings. Trying to keep her otherwise occupied is not easy. She long ago lost the ability to concentrate on the television, and if I give her a magazine or a book with pictures she may look at it for a few moments, but soon pushes it aside.
So I try to keep her happy by responding to most of her chat, keeping my end up as best I can while also having half a brain turned to whatever I am doing, be it computer work, making food or drink or - heaven forbid - glancing at a book or newspaper, which I don't do very often. I get to feel very guilty about THAT activity, because somehow I am supposed to keep my full attention focussed on her.
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1 comment:
Hi Patricia!
I know, I've already commented on a couple of posts. The mood hit me, this afternoon, to check back with you after close to a year and, lo and behold, I find that you have, indeed, been filling in your story. Your journey with your mother was quite a bit different than mine and, I think, quite a bit more harrowing. I can STILL understand, with a bit more depth, why traditional grieving wasn't something you found necessary, although I'm delighted to discover that reviewing is. I'm intrigued by the detail of yours. I'm pleased you're doing this.
I noticed that I related to your lack of traditional grief when I read your post about your Mom's death "way back when". At that time my mother was alive, I was in the thick of it and I couldn't imagine that I would grieve her death, much, as I had done quite a bit of that. Turns out, though, I was wrong about how I would react to my mother's death. Much to my surprise, I was knocked for a loop and continue to find myself on a difficult grieving journey. I think what explains the difference is that, all in all, my mother wasn't all that hard to live with and never displayed many of the advanced symptoms of dementia as your mother did. She remained who she'd always been [one of the many blessings of Dementia-Lite], just a slightly askew version. Thus, there were no breaks in our relationship, there was never a time when my mother was no longer my mother. It was easy to be close to her, easy to have fun with her, easy to always consider life with her a mutual adventure.
In my opinion, those who care for the truly altered demented deserve to have an easy grief. Not that I believe I deserve a hard grief, but I think the contributory factor to my grief was the nature of the "game" my mother and I "played". My mother's needs for care allowed me to become her intimate companion. Your mother's needs for care required that you become, above all, her protector, including protecting her from herself. They also required that you bid your mother good-bye long before she died.
Very curious how grief works itself out in different situations, isn't it.
Anyway, just wanted to let you know, I'm scooting in and out, skipping around and, within the next few days, intend to be caught up. Fascinating stuff. Again, I'm glad you're doing this. Thank you.
Gail Rae Hudson
The Mom & Me Journals dot Net
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