If You Can’t Beat Them, Join Them!
Have you heard the old saying, “If you can’t beat them, join
them?” I have come to the conclusion this is the path I need to take with my
ninety-two year old mother. Instead of trying to be logical with her I have to
love her and care for her just the way she is and trust me, logic has not been
a part of her life for a long time now.
This might sound easy but it isn't. You always think of your
parents as being strong and healthy. They are the ones who protect you when you
are too young to protect yourself. They teach you more than any school teacher
ever could and they have high expectations for you no matter what the rest of
the world thinks of you. When the day comes for you to realize you are a
helpful stranger to them it nearly breaks your heart.
Earlier today I was trying to reason with my mother who was
determined she was going to put on her shoes and go visit her mother. She was
fretting because she hasn't seen her mother for a long time and “She’ll be
worried about me now. I’m going home.”
I tried to tell her the weather is terrible, the vehicle is
not running, and she could get sick going outside in the cold wet weather. She
didn't care about any of that. Finally, I asked my mother where grandmother
lives now. She said, “You know, up there.”
“Up where?” I asked.
“Up the road in that other house. “ She spoke to me with a
blank expression on her face as if I should know this already.
I responded, “Grandmother is not home. She had a doctor’s
appointment and was going to the supermarket after she got of the doctor’s
office.” Telling her grandmother has been deceased for the last thirty-one
years would only upset her. She would cry and feel the pain of losing
grandmother all over again and it would serve no purpose so I went along with
her belief in going to visit her mother.
Yesterday she didn't want to go the restroom even when it
was obvious she needed to go. She insisted she had just been in there and was
ready to physically battle anyone who attempted to help her up or clean her up.
Those are the moments that make it hard to go along with her and it bothers me
to force her to do what has to be done but I can’t leave her lying there
soiled.
My friend often helps me with my mother and she was here.
She hadn't seen that side of my mother before. I leaned over my mother, placed
my arm under her armpit and raised her to her feet. At that point she looked at
me and said, “I’m going to the bathroom. You don’t need to go.” Then she looked
at my friend and said, “You can go with me.” The ladies walked off into the
bathroom reminding me of a cowboy riding off into the sunset.
Sometimes it is not easy to love someone with dementia but
you can’t forget who they were long before they were forgetful and angry. You
have to remember the laughs, the times they encouraged and supported you, and
the times they dried your tears. I have learned I have to love the woman my mother
is now and leave the woman she once buried in my memories.
Those times when I reach for my mother’s hand and she pushes
me away, I have to remember I am no longer the daughter she remembers for her
daughter is still a young woman. In her eyes I am the older helpful stranger
and when she doesn't like something I say or do she reminds me, “I know my daughter
is paying you well to be here with me. I’m going to tell her how you've acted
today! She’ll fire your ass!”
She needs my love, my care, and my patience, and I must
admit; I need the laughs she brings me that many others might not understand.
© Dianna Doles Petry
