Language

This is a tough one.  MH talks to me...with me...in English, but her words are not often connected to one another.  As an English major, I am interested in the building of her sentences.  She corrects her grammar when it is wrong...although I would have no idea of the wrong-ness. She tries various forms of a word to get a feel for which is correct within the sentence, when actually none of them make sense.  The words she chooses are close in weight or tone to the ones that would fit the sentence, which is fascinating to me.  Tall=thick=deep.  I cannot imitate her, because she talks so quickly, and with certainty.  It is her own language, and there is a sense of it I am gaining, but proificiency seems far down the road.  Once last week, when she was telling me a story, we both laughed at the same thing, and laughed much harder than usual...we shared something fabulous....but I had no idea what it was.  Still, it felt wonderful.  I do not understand her jokes, but it is clear to me that she has a good sense of humor.  There is a casual quality about her that I like, and the ease with which we spend time together is growing.

I have always been so connected to language...to literature, to poetry, to songwriting.  To foreign languages.  My interaction with M leaves me both with a sense of lack and intrigue. I am tired when I get home after just 4 hours.  The concentration is intense.  She demands it.  She deserves it.  She appreciates it.  I truely feel that.  She knows I am not just elder-sitting her.  It takes about 20 minutes for me to settle into her cadence, and off we go about our day together.

memory is/memory isn't

I read an article, but did not reference it, for some reason.  I took an entire page of notes, and these are the lines that have stayed with me;

Memory isn't just about remembering, and memory loss isn't just about forgetting.  Memory is responsible for creating continuity, meaning, and cohererance both for ourselves and for those around us.
Memory isn't just a mechanism that records events; it's an internal clock responsible for the impression of moving forward in time.

connection without memory

Two days after Mom died, my partner of 4 years announced that he had a new lover, had been with her for a month, and had been waiting for the right time to tell me.  My first life-crisis for which I could not call Mom....the anger has not yet eased on that particular ripple-effect...

At work, IB noticed, and continues to notice, that I am struggling.  She is AWARE of me like few are, a reminder that dementia effects memory, but not the ability to understand and connect emotionally. She does not remember that my Mom has died.  SHe does not remember that my partner has betrayed me.  But every morning, she wakes up and asks me how I'm doing, and holds my hand with concern and tenderness...she doesn't know why, but she definitely knows that I am hurting.

My boss seems to think that I am not checking myself enough...that IB worries about me, and I need to get it together.  I disagree.   I am finding that for IB to reach out to me, to wrap me in her arms and hold me like a child are things that she is good at....VERY good at, and it gives her the motherly feeling that she still holds deep in her body's memory.  It gives her a sense of purpose, of balancing, of caring for me just as I care for her...our relationship has become deeper and has found a new dynamic.  We get through the shit of life together, and I love her all the more for it.  At a time when I am so despaerately missing my mother, she has those same qualities and is happy to step into the role.

Perhaps I am not very professional.  I don't know...I'm still so new in this business...but to make deeper connections late in life cannot be a bad thing, can it?  KS has the same effect on me....when I go to visit him, he asks about my life, wanting to know how I am dealing with my heartache...maybe it feels good to talk about something outside of swallowing, toileting, and where he may end up.  Maybe it feels good for him to extend himself to another...isn't that, after all, one way to be "of use" in this world?  It is a constant concern with seniors to not feel needed anymore.  He knows it helps me to see him, to have him hug me...after all, I am missing my Dad as well, and KS is Dad's contemporary in many ways...it was the initial link we shared.

We do not grow out of needing parenting.  After our parents are gone, others step in to fill that gap...they step in voluntarily.  I say go for it.

tomorrow

Don't wake up tomorrow, Mom....please go in your sleep.  You're ready.  We're ready.  Just let go....and know that we send you off with love and tenderness.

IB went crashing to the floor just as I was coming in the door this morning.  It was my first ambulance call.  In between the getting up of her and the examining of her by MR, I got a call from Shan to see if I could have one last talk with Mom.  I could hear her making noises to me as I told her over and over that I loved her and thanked her for being such a good and supportive mother all those years.  Just a few minutes after that, KS's daughter texted to say he was being transferred to a bigger hospital...spitting up blood, and getting weaker.  Then back to IB, my lovely Capricorn the Goat.  Back on schedule by 10am, sore and tired.

I spent some time with SN at LMR, walked the familiar woods and sat at  my grandparents' table....good to be quiet and social at once.
Back home, a soaking in the tub, followed by a couple hours in bed with a book...nap...nap...up again, a snack, and soon to bed.  I am learning to find the balance that cargiving requires.

I hope no calls come until morning....slip off tonight, Mom...Milt will meet you half-way...

Bearing Witness

So much of what I do for a living is about bearing witness.

end of life processing

Mind. Blown.
IB was late coming to breakfast the other day.  I went to check on her, and found her looking at photos. We took them into the front room, where she spent the afternoon while I shopped for groceries.  When I got back, she showed me the pile.  There were about 15 that stood out with coloring from the 70's, and I glanced at them...then again, then again, in further disbelief.  They were photos of a wedding, HER wedding, to a man other than the man we know as her husband.
I called the weekend aid, who has also noticed her doing a lot of photo searching.  She took a look, and she was blown away.  She asked.  IB layed out her tale of a boring marriage, an interesting man at work, a divorce, a marriage to whom was now a lover, a death of said lover, and consequent remarriage to the first husband.  WOW.
The next day, she pulled out the photos again, and showed them to me.  We talked for a long time.  About love and loss, scandle without regret, following our hearts, all that stuff that holds the juice of life.  How fabulous.  As I was leaving, she said, "Honey, there's only a handful of people who know...".
I met privately with MR, wondering if there was anything we needed to know about helping IB process all of this as she continues to "Awaken"...MR had no idea about any of this (I'd assumed she knew)...MIND BLOWN.  Keep on as we are, she said.  Keep the family out of this.  Have IB lead the way in any conversations, be supportive.
The processing at the end of life...I am stepping into this now, and I am so very interested.


KS is weakening quickly.  I have begun a series of small discussions with him and his daughters and MR about the coming months...how does he want this to go, how can we help him set up his house to stay in it, how can I help his family to prepare...
They have skipped the Assisted Living step.  He's on several waiting lists, but we all realize that he is no longer capable of the ADL's required to live there...nursing homes don't feel right for him.  If he continues to fade away, that may be best for him...it fits his style, inch-by-inch...he will stay with us, we will up the shifts however possible, and call Hospice when the time seems right.  I have asked MR if I can be on his Hospice team, and she is all for it.  His duaghter told me that one of the reasons they did not want him in AL is because they wanted him to keep me as his caregiver.  Wow.  Just wow...

Things are getting very big...very real....very enlightening.

gravy lessons

IB stopped cooking because she could no longer sequence. Her kitchen is stuffed with cookbooks.  She was a member of the cooks of America group.  To date, I have been excited to have her placing slices of cheese on home made pizza.
A few days ago, I made braised short ribs for the first time.  IB asked if I was going to make gravy.  I told her I had never made gravy...I could have knocked her over with a feather.  She told me to save the drippings...that night, we would make gravy.
We started just after 5.  She was in the breakfast nook, I was in the kitchen. When she smelled the drippings starting to steam, she made her way into the kitchen.  Within minutes, she was in front of the stove, spatula in hand, asking me to ge this, measure that, pour more, scrape that, wait some more, don't be shy....it was awesome.  She's done enough exercising now to be able to stand for a while without her walker, and I was amazed at her stamina.  Sequencing was spot-on, her face was so focused...what a treat for both of us.
Good food.  Good exercise.  Good sleep.  Good lovin'.  This is posted in the front room.  It is our motto.  Look what it unfolds.