“I’m sorry but we’re going south … it’s your turn to look after Mom now.” With those words our lives changed considerably.
She looked so much smaller than I remembered when she got off the plane, but we whisked her off to her new home—a lovely seniors’ lodge. For a few weeks things went beautifully, then I became ill and my husband had to do the care giving.
“I think something is wrong,” he said. “She dresses strangely and I don’t think she is taking her insulin.” A medical evaluation showed she was having problems and a move to a nursing home was necessary.
“Don’t tell Pat, but I don’t like it here.” She confessed to some visitors. I felt terrible about it, but there was nothing I could do. One day her daughter arrived but when Mom looked at her she insisted she didn’t know her as her daughter was still quite small. Her mind had gone years back and a grown-up daughter didn’t fit in her time frame.
But there were funny instances too, like the time her dentures disappeared. New ones were essential and Mom had dressed herself up in her best when she heard a young man (the denturist) would be arriving. She responded with all of her old charm. But it wasn’t to last. Even the old gospel songs our church group sang for her didn’t get any response. Her hand no longer tapped out the rhythm.
It had been a bad three months for me. My husband had suffered a heart attack and was recovering at home and I felt like I was being pulled in two different directions.
“Your mother-in-law has fallen.” I heard the report on the other end of the line and I headed for the hospital. It was really difficult to go back into the intensive care unit where I had watched my husband struggle earlier. She looked so tiny in the big bed.
She seemed oblivious to our visits yet, one day as I stood by her bed, as clear as a bell she said, “I guess, we’ll just all have to pull together.” It was a bit of a prophecy.
A week later she died and like rowers in a boat we did pull together.
Some day I may sit in a nursing home, confused, upset, not sure how to use the phone in my hand. My daughters will have to make decisions about me. I know they will do the best they can , as I did, with God’s help.
