When I started this blog, I intended to share our family's experience with Alzheimer's and the horrible effect it had on my mother in particular and my family in general. I felt compelled to write about that period of our lives.
However, I have had second thoughts about this. I have written many blogs that I deleted. For some reason, I could not publish them. Even though they were raw, true and may have possibly helped someone else go through this horrible disease, I could not hit the "publish post" button. Something held me back.
I do not think my mother would want her story told on the Internet. Mama was a gracious, loving, funny lady. But she was a very private lady too. I didn't find out my true life story until I was 60 and she had been dead for a year. To write anymore, would almost be a betrayal.....and that is one thing I can not do to her.
I need to write about all that has happened, but it will be for my eyes only. My daughters can read it if they wish, but I doubt if they do. For me it is healing to write. However, reading it is almost like the old practice of "blood letting", the vein is opened to let the poison out. It was hard living through it the first time. It is even harder to write about it. I need to do it for myself. It is therapeutic, cleansing and at times painful. So I will continue to write but I will not publish the blogs. I intend to just make a copy of the blogs, put them in a folder and if my family wants to read them, they can. If not, that is ok too.
I have a lot of stories to share in my first blog, " It Doesn't Take Much to Make Me Happy", about Mama. They are stories that she will not care if I share with others. In fact, she would be the first to laugh and say ,"Vicky Kay are you really gonna tell that?" Knowing that I am and she doesn't mind at all. She would laugh with us.....she did when the stories happened.
Thank you for sharing this short time with me. Your comments and support were very valuable to me. I think I am making the right decision and I will see you all tomorrow in "It Doesn't Take Much to Make Me Happy". The truest words I have ever written. Sending my love to you all, Vicky
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Eat, Pray, Love---Carter Style
If my day was bad, Mama's was worse. Tommy and I had come home from Missouri to Kentucky to check on Mama and Daddy. I wanted to spend time with my parents and this gave Tommy a chance to see his brothers and sisters. We were planning on spending our nights at Mama's just like we always did.
It was August and so hot and humid outside that it was miserable. When Tommy and I arrived, Mama and Daddy were sitting out on the patio. Mama was dressed in a wool sweater, black pants and Daddy's heavy hunting socks. After hugs and kisses were exchanged and exchanged again. We sat down to talk. I asked Mama how she was doing and she looked me in the eye and said "Fine, and who are you?" I was shocked we had just got through crying, hugging and kissing and in a split second she forgot. I told her I was"Vicky" her daughter, that's when she looked at Tommy and said, "She's not Vicky, but I like her." For some reason Tommy snapped the picture. Probably, because she looked so much like her "real self". All I remember is taking off for the bathroom to cry some more.
We went back out to the patio, because Mama wanted to go out there. She had to have been hot. We were all burning up, but she seemed fine and oblivious to the heat. She could no longer tell for sure, if she was hot or cold.
Later that night we made plans to go out to eat. My mother wanted to cook supper and was convinced that "Mamamae, Granddaddy, and Uncle Gene " would be there any minute to eat with us. All three of them had been dead for quite awhile. Mama looked for them everywhere she went. Mama kept setting the table for "Mamamae, Granddaddy, and Uncle Gene" We tried to gently tell her that they were" gone'' and would not be there for dinner. Finally, we just left the plates on the table and got in the car. Once at the restaurant, Mama ate very little. She wanted to "people watch". A bite of fish, a bite of baked potato and she was full. There was no making her eat, if she didn't want it. It was also hard to make her drink anything. However, she did drink better than she ate.
Mama no longer wore her glasses, so she couldn't see far away. She wanted to set in the back seat with me. The ride terrified her. She hung on to the door handle and even though she was in her seat belt, she felt like something really bad was going to happen to her. I watched her face, and talked low and soothing to her. After a few minutes I was able to get her mind off the drive . She knew me then. I would always know when she really knew me because she would say "There you are" every time. Just like I was the one who had been "lost".
We couldn't get Mama out of her clothes all weekend except to go to sleep. She wanted that same outfit to wear. We would wash it, hide it, I even wanted to throw it away. But we didn't, she was comfortable in that odd wardrobe and so we just let her have it. We never knew if we were doing the "right" thing. Mostly we tried to make her happy, whatever it took. As soon as I returned home, I bought every book I could find concerning Alzheimer's.
When it was time to go to bed, Mama wanted to sleep with us. It was fine with Tommy as long as Mama got in on my side. However she was up and down all night and once she got in bed on his side. I felt a pop on my rear and heard Tommy say, "Vicky, get your Mama---she just got in bed with me" I started laughing, I was tired but I went around the side of the bed and "got Mama". I tried to put her back in bed with Daddy, but she almost beat me back to my bed. So we cuddled. I rubbed her back and told her what a great mother she had been to me. I talked her to sleep. Evidently, I was keeping Tommy awake. Soooo just about the time I am ready to drift off to sleep. He says "Thank God you didn't sing to her!!" I got tickled, I snorted trying not to wake Mama up again and I could NOT be quiet or quit laughing. Sure enough, I woke her up and Daddy. It was four in the morning and Daddy was ready to start the day.
There is an old saying or quote about "trial by fire". Mama's Alzheimer's was my trial by fire....and I am still here. Older, wiser and more forgiving. I learned how to be more compassionate for other people and to other people. I thought I had seen and heard everything working with mental patients. But it's a whole new ballgame when the "mental patient" is your mother. I learned to really love and to forgive my Father. That was a long time coming and at times I thought I would surely burn up in the process but we survived and are close today. Mama would be so relieved and delighted in our relationship. In fact, I know she is.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
The Ending First and Then the Story
Mama died two years ago this past week. It was 5:45 in the morning, Daddy had spent the night with her. I tried to get him to go home and let me stay, but he refused. I had just driven in from Missouri after working all night and I was exhausted, but I still probably felt better that Daddy did. I stayed all day with her and let him take a rest, although he wasn't gone long enough to have rested any.
Hospice had been called in, so they could making her leaving easy on her. Since there was nothing left to do, we sat with her. She had a fever and she did drink some water--but not much. Her breathing was labored and very fast. I didn't see how she had the strength to even breath. I wanted to do something about the fever but no extra means are used to keep them alive. I must admit the staff was very good to us and to Mama. It was just the finishing line for her.
All the time Mama was sick, Daddy and I were at war most of the time. It bought out the worst in both of us. He needed my help and I could only do so much because I was still working. I had begged them not to move home because of this. I lost that battle and it cost us dearly. Although I do have to admit, the nursing home we finally had to put her in was as good a hospital as I have ever seen. It was clean, beautiful and Mama liked it. In fact, her Mom had eventually had to go there, so we knew the care was excellent.
However, that didn't stop the battles. When I came in, I took over for Daddy and he could rest. He had set up a schedule that was just about to kill him. He had always been a "boss" in construction and now Mama was his "job". He would be there at 6:30 in the morning to make sure she was ready for breakfast. He ate breakfast with her everyday. Most times he probably didn't eat all that much, because Mama had reached the stage where it was hard to get her to eat anything. That was the reason she had to be admitted to the nursing home. We couldn't make her eat. Well, neither could they. It was just part of her brain shutting down .
Daddy's plan was to spend as much time "taking care of the Babe" as he could. Milk and cookies were at 10 a.m. ,Daddy was back for that and stayed through lunch. He would go home and Mama would take a nap. Then about 4:00 p.m. he would come back up and stay for dinner and sometimes, depending on how Mama was acting, he would stay until 6:30 and the he'd go home and be asleep by 7 p.m. Daddy and I both are early risers, so he'd be up at 4 a.m.
This went on for the 3 years and 10 months Mama was in the nursing home. She was sick for about 3 years before we had to admit her. It was physically hard on Daddy . He lost weight. It was almost too much for him, but he took excellent care of Mama. He had a lot of making up to do, and I think this was his way to do it. He was wonderful with her, although he gave everyone else hell, Mama got the best of Daddy. And she should have.
When Mama was dying, Daddy refused to let anyone call me. However, Hospice called and the nursing home called. That was how I found out Mama was dying. They knew Mama would want me there....so they called. They told me to be prepared for him to be mean to me, because he was furious with me.
I hadn't been home in 4 months. The longest I ever went was a month and then I would stay a week to help out. But the last time I was there, Daddy had hurt my feeling so bad and I was so mad at him....I stayed away. He told me to. He told me not to come back until he called me---no matter what anyone said. He slammed the car door and left. He was mad because I had just stayed a week in the hospital with Mama and once they got her built back up, we bought her "home" to ICF. The doctor told us that this was it. Mama was as good as she was ever going to be. I knew what that meant. It had been a hell of a week. Her body was starting to shut down. Nothing worked much at all. They gave her blood and that was almost too much. We couldn't get her bowels to work . I have never worked as hard, cried as much, prayed as hard as I did that week.
While I was at the hospital one night, my car was broken into and my heavy winter coat was stolen. I had never had anything like that happen before. It was shocking but I had another coat and much more important things to worry about.
I was on FMLA, and I only had so much time on the books. I told Daddy I had to go home. That Mama was back at the nursing home and I would be back soon. I needed to put some more overtime on the books. He was furious that I was leaving. A lot of mean things were said. Whoever said, "Sticks and Stones will break my bones, but words can never hurt me" was sadly mistaken. Words sear the soul and brand the heart.
We were there to love her, support her, comfort her and enjoy each moment that we could. There were many funny moments. Alzheimer's patients loose their inhibitions and there were times that Mama caught me off guard and I would crack up at what she said or did. This picture was taken right after she was admitted to ICF. She had acquired a "baby" and was so in love with her. The "baby" was seldom out of her arms. I got a glimpse of how she loved me as a baby. For awhile the baby was named "Vicky" and then she forgot her name along the way, but she never stopped loving that doll.
Hospice had been called in, so they could making her leaving easy on her. Since there was nothing left to do, we sat with her. She had a fever and she did drink some water--but not much. Her breathing was labored and very fast. I didn't see how she had the strength to even breath. I wanted to do something about the fever but no extra means are used to keep them alive. I must admit the staff was very good to us and to Mama. It was just the finishing line for her.
All the time Mama was sick, Daddy and I were at war most of the time. It bought out the worst in both of us. He needed my help and I could only do so much because I was still working. I had begged them not to move home because of this. I lost that battle and it cost us dearly. Although I do have to admit, the nursing home we finally had to put her in was as good a hospital as I have ever seen. It was clean, beautiful and Mama liked it. In fact, her Mom had eventually had to go there, so we knew the care was excellent.
However, that didn't stop the battles. When I came in, I took over for Daddy and he could rest. He had set up a schedule that was just about to kill him. He had always been a "boss" in construction and now Mama was his "job". He would be there at 6:30 in the morning to make sure she was ready for breakfast. He ate breakfast with her everyday. Most times he probably didn't eat all that much, because Mama had reached the stage where it was hard to get her to eat anything. That was the reason she had to be admitted to the nursing home. We couldn't make her eat. Well, neither could they. It was just part of her brain shutting down .
Daddy's plan was to spend as much time "taking care of the Babe" as he could. Milk and cookies were at 10 a.m. ,Daddy was back for that and stayed through lunch. He would go home and Mama would take a nap. Then about 4:00 p.m. he would come back up and stay for dinner and sometimes, depending on how Mama was acting, he would stay until 6:30 and the he'd go home and be asleep by 7 p.m. Daddy and I both are early risers, so he'd be up at 4 a.m.
This went on for the 3 years and 10 months Mama was in the nursing home. She was sick for about 3 years before we had to admit her. It was physically hard on Daddy . He lost weight. It was almost too much for him, but he took excellent care of Mama. He had a lot of making up to do, and I think this was his way to do it. He was wonderful with her, although he gave everyone else hell, Mama got the best of Daddy. And she should have.
When Mama was dying, Daddy refused to let anyone call me. However, Hospice called and the nursing home called. That was how I found out Mama was dying. They knew Mama would want me there....so they called. They told me to be prepared for him to be mean to me, because he was furious with me.
I hadn't been home in 4 months. The longest I ever went was a month and then I would stay a week to help out. But the last time I was there, Daddy had hurt my feeling so bad and I was so mad at him....I stayed away. He told me to. He told me not to come back until he called me---no matter what anyone said. He slammed the car door and left. He was mad because I had just stayed a week in the hospital with Mama and once they got her built back up, we bought her "home" to ICF. The doctor told us that this was it. Mama was as good as she was ever going to be. I knew what that meant. It had been a hell of a week. Her body was starting to shut down. Nothing worked much at all. They gave her blood and that was almost too much. We couldn't get her bowels to work . I have never worked as hard, cried as much, prayed as hard as I did that week.
While I was at the hospital one night, my car was broken into and my heavy winter coat was stolen. I had never had anything like that happen before. It was shocking but I had another coat and much more important things to worry about.
I was on FMLA, and I only had so much time on the books. I told Daddy I had to go home. That Mama was back at the nursing home and I would be back soon. I needed to put some more overtime on the books. He was furious that I was leaving. A lot of mean things were said. Whoever said, "Sticks and Stones will break my bones, but words can never hurt me" was sadly mistaken. Words sear the soul and brand the heart.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
A Steely Eyed Shark named Alzheimers
Being diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease is like being adrift and alone in the ocean at night. Only to suddenly find yourself surrounded by sharks. You know the outcome but still a part of you wants so desperately to live. You fight, you cry and then one lone shark comes in for the kill. It bites your leg off, you feel the pain, you see the blood and then you faint from sheer fear and slowly loose your life----forgetting everything you ever knew. Someone once asked me my greatest personal fear on a Face Book Quiz, and I think my answer was about the sharks. However, that was before I met "Alzheimers" face to face. I fear that more than anything. I saw what it did to my mother, and truthfully I haven't slept without nightmares since.
When my mother was first diagnosed with Alzheimer's she tried to hit the doctor with her purse!!! She called him an "Idiot" told him to go back to school or Hell whichever was closest. Then she ran out of the doctor's office and cried like a baby. She refused to discuss it. She refused to have this horrible disease and she refused any help. There would be no treatment plan, no more doctors visits and no one,absolutely no one, was to know. My family has always been full of secrets. This was just one more to add to the heap. It was a tragic secret but one we could not keep hidden for very long. Like a shark, it came to tear all of us apart---one limb at a time.
When Mama first started getting sick, my parents lived in Fulton, Mo.about 25 miles from me. They moved up there to retire and be with me and my children. They lived there 7 years, before Daddy decided to move back to Kentucky. The thought of them moving nearly killed me. Even though Daddy and I did not get along, I loved Mama and wanted her close. They were getting older and I knew that someday soon I would be taking care of them. If they moved to Ky. it would be hard on me to see to them like I wanted to. I still had quite a few years left before I could retire and only so much sick time on the books that I could take, without getting fired. However, Daddy was determined to move back "home". So one day in June, the trucks came and loaded up their belongings and we all drove to Kentucky to get them settled in.
In hindsight, I can see there were some signs of Alzheimer's. At the time I could explain everything that happened and never once suspected the truth. One day in early April, Daddy's brother and wife came up to spend a long weekend. Mama took Aunt Gene up town to do some shopping and then couldn't find her way home. We all laughed this off, including Mama, because she was such a horrible driver. I never suspected a thing because she had a regular path that she took each day..If she got off the beaten path, she was mixed up for a few minutes but then would get back on track. However, the day with Aunt Gene was different---she really couldn't remember how to get home. It was by sheer accident that she finally recognized their street. Aunt Gene "told " on her and we all had a good laugh, especially Mama. That caused everyone to tell their favorite "Aunt Betty's bad driving stories", and believe me there were plenty.
Mama didn't learn to drive until she was in her thirty's. I remember Aunt Donna teaching her to drive and how embarrassed I was to be seen with her. I was about 14 and I hated to ride with her!! She was the worst driver I have ever known and also the funniest. Although at the time, I didn't always see the humor in the situation. For instance, 4 way stops threw her for a loop. She never knew when to go. If by chance she got there first, we were all doomed!!! She would drive out about 2 feet and stop. She didn't stop---she stomped on the brake, because she was afraid someone else was getting ready to go. I would beg her to just go on and get out of the way.....No such luck!!!! She would repeat this move all the way across the road, with cars almost at each door by the time we finally got to the other side. And then fuss because "people are so reckless and rude"!! I spent most of my time sinking as low as I could go in the seat, praying no one I knew saw me!!
I don't know how she did it but, she only had one bad wreck in her life. That was when she made a left hand turn from a right hand lane and the car in the left lane hit her. We could not make her believe it was her fault. However, the Highway Patrol gave Mama the ticket and told her she would have to go to court. She was furious and scared to death. I went with her to court when the day came. I wouldn't have missed this for the world!!! On the way to the court house in Union City, Mama was so nervous she ran a stop sign and got another ticket. When the policeman pullled her over, Mama told him that she didn't have long to talk to him because she had to go to court. I was drinking a soda and I got chocked and spit Pepsi all over the dashboard. The look on the cops face was priceless. I started laughing and laughed all the way through court. I thought Mama was gonna kill me right there, but I could not stop. The more she talked to the judge, to everyone, the worse it got and the more I laughed. When we got in the car, I found out I was grounded for a month. It was worth it, it really was.
The last time Mama drove a car, she was on her way to take jackets to the little girls who lived upstairs at her house. There was no upstairs and no little girls. She backed out into the street and could not remember what to do. The neighbor across the street was watching her and after a few minutes came out and helped her get the car back into the carport. It was the last time she ever drove.
When my mother was first diagnosed with Alzheimer's she tried to hit the doctor with her purse!!! She called him an "Idiot" told him to go back to school or Hell whichever was closest. Then she ran out of the doctor's office and cried like a baby. She refused to discuss it. She refused to have this horrible disease and she refused any help. There would be no treatment plan, no more doctors visits and no one,absolutely no one, was to know. My family has always been full of secrets. This was just one more to add to the heap. It was a tragic secret but one we could not keep hidden for very long. Like a shark, it came to tear all of us apart---one limb at a time.
When Mama first started getting sick, my parents lived in Fulton, Mo.about 25 miles from me. They moved up there to retire and be with me and my children. They lived there 7 years, before Daddy decided to move back to Kentucky. The thought of them moving nearly killed me. Even though Daddy and I did not get along, I loved Mama and wanted her close. They were getting older and I knew that someday soon I would be taking care of them. If they moved to Ky. it would be hard on me to see to them like I wanted to. I still had quite a few years left before I could retire and only so much sick time on the books that I could take, without getting fired. However, Daddy was determined to move back "home". So one day in June, the trucks came and loaded up their belongings and we all drove to Kentucky to get them settled in.
In hindsight, I can see there were some signs of Alzheimer's. At the time I could explain everything that happened and never once suspected the truth. One day in early April, Daddy's brother and wife came up to spend a long weekend. Mama took Aunt Gene up town to do some shopping and then couldn't find her way home. We all laughed this off, including Mama, because she was such a horrible driver. I never suspected a thing because she had a regular path that she took each day..If she got off the beaten path, she was mixed up for a few minutes but then would get back on track. However, the day with Aunt Gene was different---she really couldn't remember how to get home. It was by sheer accident that she finally recognized their street. Aunt Gene "told " on her and we all had a good laugh, especially Mama. That caused everyone to tell their favorite "Aunt Betty's bad driving stories", and believe me there were plenty.
Mama didn't learn to drive until she was in her thirty's. I remember Aunt Donna teaching her to drive and how embarrassed I was to be seen with her. I was about 14 and I hated to ride with her!! She was the worst driver I have ever known and also the funniest. Although at the time, I didn't always see the humor in the situation. For instance, 4 way stops threw her for a loop. She never knew when to go. If by chance she got there first, we were all doomed!!! She would drive out about 2 feet and stop. She didn't stop---she stomped on the brake, because she was afraid someone else was getting ready to go. I would beg her to just go on and get out of the way.....No such luck!!!! She would repeat this move all the way across the road, with cars almost at each door by the time we finally got to the other side. And then fuss because "people are so reckless and rude"!! I spent most of my time sinking as low as I could go in the seat, praying no one I knew saw me!!
I don't know how she did it but, she only had one bad wreck in her life. That was when she made a left hand turn from a right hand lane and the car in the left lane hit her. We could not make her believe it was her fault. However, the Highway Patrol gave Mama the ticket and told her she would have to go to court. She was furious and scared to death. I went with her to court when the day came. I wouldn't have missed this for the world!!! On the way to the court house in Union City, Mama was so nervous she ran a stop sign and got another ticket. When the policeman pullled her over, Mama told him that she didn't have long to talk to him because she had to go to court. I was drinking a soda and I got chocked and spit Pepsi all over the dashboard. The look on the cops face was priceless. I started laughing and laughed all the way through court. I thought Mama was gonna kill me right there, but I could not stop. The more she talked to the judge, to everyone, the worse it got and the more I laughed. When we got in the car, I found out I was grounded for a month. It was worth it, it really was.
The last time Mama drove a car, she was on her way to take jackets to the little girls who lived upstairs at her house. There was no upstairs and no little girls. She backed out into the street and could not remember what to do. The neighbor across the street was watching her and after a few minutes came out and helped her get the car back into the carport. It was the last time she ever drove.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)