Hell No I Don't Remember, I Have Alzheimer's!

Chapter 1 - A Day in the Life Minds held hostage by Kenney As Mom walks ever so slowly only to be held up by her britches with her caregiver's strong hold, she pushes forward on her walker to prepare for bed. As she enters her room, she searches to find something familiar. Unaware of these surroundings, her eyes scan the room, and she recognizes nothing that tells her where she is. Then suddenly, "Oh yes, it is nice to be back in my own bedroom. Pajamas are lying on the bed for me. I'll put them on and crawl into bed." The caregiver helps Mom to the bed as she is unable to crawl into bed or dress on her own. Mom is thinking, "Well, I'll slip these on quickly.” She lunges forward, at least she thinks she does. “Hmm, this is odd. My body is not responding. Wait a minute! Where am I? This is not my room," Mom begins to panic. Mom searches the room again to find something familiar. "Oh see there he is," she says out loud. "Do you see him?" she asks pointing to the portrait on the wall. "My husband, Earl. We've been married 75 years," she proudly announces to the caregiver who was helping her put on her pajamas. Mom stares at her in the weirdest way wondering why she is helping her dress; she's capable of doing this herself. Without warning, anger builds up, and as quickly as it came, it goes away again. "How about I wheel you to the bathroom, so hopefully, you won't need to go during the night," the caregiver says calmly. Mom thinks to herself, "I don't need help going to the bathroom, woman! What is it with you, anyhow? Do you think I'm some kind of an invalid?" As she arrives at the potty chair, she sees it and wants to do this by herself, but is unable to move. In her mind, she is moving toward the pot, but nothing on her body is moving. Mom sighs. Ever so gently, the caregiver lifts the lid on the commode. Ever so gently she places the walker around Mom to keep her from falling forward. The caregiver leaves the bathroom and says, "I'll be right out here, putting your clothes away. Holler, when you need my help," as she pulls the two bathroom doors close to each other but not completely closed, giving her a little privacy. Sitting on the pot, Mom thinks about what is going on. "Why would I need help?" she says out loud. She begins looking around again. This is not my bathroom. My tile is pink. This is white. I would never do white; she is thinking to herself. Things are so out of place. She closes her eyes tightly and whispers to herself, "Where is everyone? Who are these people, where am I anyway? Whose bathroom is this?" Like a ninja, the caregiver slides quietly in the door and begins encouraging Mom to stand up and head back to bed. Mom is thinking to herself, "This woman is so kind and gentle. I'm so glad she is here to take care of me. Am I sick? What's going on with me anyway?" Mom immediately goes to sleep, which is easy because at this stage of the disease, she sleeps a great deal of the time. Her anxiety medication makes her drowsy which is typical for late-stage Alzheimer's patients. During the night, she becomes disturbed. She opens her eyes and carefully views the room, trying to figure out where she is. How did she get here? Whose room is this? Her heart rate increases, she begins to sweat seeing shadows moving around the room. Dark shadows. Her heart pounds, and she tries to cry out, but no sound comes out of her mouth. Now she panics. This shadow moving around the room is scaring her to death, but her body won’t budge. She wondered if she is dreaming or awake; she can’t tell. Finally, within moments of closing her eyes to eliminate the shadows swirling around her room, Dad shows up on the side of her bed, holding her hand. She cries out a sigh of relief. She is so happy to lay her weary eyes on her husband, who had died 25 years earlier. "Where have you been, Earl?" Mom cries out loud with a clear and precise voice. "You left me here all by myself. I missed you, Earl. No one would take care of things. I needed you. Why did you not let me stay in my house? Oh wait," she remembers, "It wasn't you, it was the kids. Why would they treat me this way? Why would they take all my things and put me here in this room? Where is my life, Earl? Where? Tell me where!" She presses her eyes closed and when she opens them, he has disappeared. The caregiver enters the room, asking if she is alright as she heard her talking. "Yes, I'm fine," she said, "I was talking to my husband." The caregiver acknowledges and asks if she needs anything. As Mom finds her safe spot in the middle of the bed, the caregiver leaves the room, wishing her sweet dreams. Mom went back to sleep without realizing she had been awake engaging in a conversation. The next thing she experienced as she opened her eyes was seeing the sun shining through the windows of her room. Praise God, Mom thought in her head. She lay in the bed and reminisced about how much the Lord had done for her. She loved Jesus so much. After all, He gave His life for her, and she began quoting her favorite scriptures out loud. Feverishly she stopped and began searching the room again. She fixed her eyes on pictures of the grandkids and great-grandkids and wondered who they were and why these pictures were on her dresser. Once the caregiver had helped her take a shower and prepare for the day, Mom began to wonder again why someone was always helping her dress. During her entire life, she had taken a shower by herself. Could it be she had a need for someone to help her now? She didn't understand. She knew she was an independent woman with the abilities and talents to do whatever she wanted. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Once she was wheeled into the dining room for breakfast, the aroma of the coffee hit her nose, the world was upright again. She was so thankful, so incredibly thankful to be where she was safe. She glanced at the people at the table and wondered who they were though they had all been at this same table eating together for months. By the time the bib was placed securely on her to keep her clothes clean, she remembered being at this same table. After a hearty breakfast, although she frequently failed to remember how to feed herself, she questioned again what was going on. She took her seat on the big, padded chair and began to watch TV. True to her schedule, breakfast was followed by a quick morning nap when she rested peacefully. Later in the morning, some old friends, who had been in church with her for almost 40 years, dropped by to say "Hi." She greeted them with the same grace and elegance of the woman she once was. The eyes were a little empty, the skin a little more sagging, the body not moving as it once did, but these people were here to visit her. She somehow knew these were "her" people. She didn't care who came to talk with her; she loved every minute and was thankful for someone who wanted to spend time with her again. She found a comfortable peace when people stopped by and prayed with her before they left. She worked hard to keep at attention and not lose focus. After all, they had taken their precious time to drop by to spend time with her. She wasn't sure why because she wasn't sick, but she was grateful none the less. They chatted up a storm, but Mom mostly nodded and patted her friends’ hands. She did her best to engage when she caught a phrase she understood. Aside from the fact that Mom had lost the better part of her hearing, which also affected her speech, she worked hard to catch a word every now and then. By nodding, she appeared as if she completely understood with her nods. After about 30 minutes, she was utterly exhausted and losing her grip. Mom, during some of these times, was somehow able to engage her hilarious wit and use her bantering skills through these visits. All I can say is, "Thank you, Jesus, for allowing her joy again!"