A note from a friend came my way a few months ago…“I know you get your share of fun and travel, but is there ever really a moment that you aren’t thinking about your parents?”
I’m at the farm this week, to spend quality time with my family…to bring a smile to my dad who has Alzheimer’s and to provide my mom (who is his full-time caregiver) some much needed comic relief. Being on the farm always brings back wonderful memories and walks in the woods and photography captures. But life on the farm isn’t just beautiful scenes and captures of nature. It’s also about the day to day of living with someone with a horrific, ugly disease that is slowly making my 87 year old father disappear and taking an emotional toll on my 85 year old mother. Just imagine a couple of beautiful sunflowers after days and days of harsh winds and drought. The flower heads totally gone…the dry crackly leaves in shreds. Only their stalks remain, leaning close to the ground. This is what Alzheimer’s has done to my parents.
This visit started out a little rockier than previous visits. My dad didn’t fully recognize me upon arrival even though we have skyped almost daily since my last visit. As much as I made light of it, it’s hard. So far this visit he’s had a couple of good days and a bad day. A good day is usually him asking the same questions over and over throughout the day, somewhat attentive and somewhat in the present. Him asking the same question over and over becomes nerve wracking and I can’t imagine how my mom takes it day after day. (He just asked me how many more days will I be here. This is the 9th time in the last 20 minutes.) I understand from my mother’s perspective, but I treasure each and every time he asks…as I know at some point he won’t be able to even form a sentence. We’ve yet to begin to experience the real Alzheimer’s.
The bad day. Well my dad for some reason started to believe that the living room of the house was the market where he used to have his produce business. He couldn’t understand how he would ever be able to showcase his produce and other items he used to sell with all the furniture in the room. On top of that he would look out the window to see if any potential customers were driving by in their private driveway. He became more and more agitated with the lack of cars resulting in the lack of customers. How will we ever get ahead this way? This confusion went on all day and into the night. Very late into the night. From my bedroom I could still hear him talking to my mom around midnight. He just couldn’t figure it out. The next day it had all disappeared from his memory…
In keeping with my normal routine of escaping into the woods…
From the withered tree, a flower blooms…
Zen Proverb
I’m so sorry. I’ll see my mother on Wednesday and I hope she’ll still recognize me. You’ll never know. Sounds extremely difficult for me – your mom must be a great person to be able to literally live with this day and night. All my love for you!
I’m praying for you and your family frissy, and sending positive energy for strength. I’m so, so, sorry. XoXo. GH
Hi sis I’m with you , I hate this disease, I can only imagine how you feel when your dad does not recognize you. Your mother does what she does for her husband because of the love they had for each other in the good old days, which continues through the difficult times .
Love You Bro!
You sure never know what your future, or that of your loved ones, is going to look like. It can make you crazy thinking about it. But this disease is one of the saddest that happens because it happens for so long and to the whole family. All I can do is send you my love and my hope that your precious dad will have a better day tomorrow. Hug your mom tight.
xo
My heart and prayers are with you and your family, Robin. It is such a heartless, sad disease. Your mom must have the patience of a Saint.
My 82 year old mom lives with us and your story of your moms patience reminded me of how much I need to learn from her. Thankfully, my mom does not suffer from AD, but I do try to be patient when she repeats questions and never remembers things I told her and her stories are hard to follow. Some days my patience is better then other days, but I always feel badly and pray to be a better daughter. I don’t know how your little mom does it at 85. God Bless her and Dad. I hope you can capture some photographs of them while you are there. I am so sorry, dear Robin, that it is getting more difficult. Each moment you have with them is a priceless gift.
Much love & hugs. xo
Robin, I am so sorry. We visit Memory Care facilities every weekend, and the difference between one week and the next with our patients always mystifies me. Not sure if you are tracking my blog – twicetouched.net, occassionally, but I think you could certainly identify with my latest entry.
That’s tough to read and worst to experience of course. You look so happy next to him as a girl, so to go through this now, and know what your mother has to deal with while your away must be hard in deed. My thoughts are with you. Really saddening
The caring hand of your is such a loving gesture.Your father is blessed to have her by his side.Beautiful and tender pictures.
More tears….. The day is coming when your mom must not be alone with him. No one person can care for someone with this disease. I hope to talk to you soon…….
It is heartbreaking to see one’s parents struggle. You are in our thoughts.