Ever hear somebody say 'my life really changed after I lost {fill in relative, sibling, friend, etc...}? Sure. Life IS change. Nothing ever stays the same. Our memories are all but chapters in a scrapbook or novel we have created (and seemingly edit) in our mind over time. For so many people their novels have lots of crossover stories and characters, yet no two parallel each other completely. But isn't that the definition of reality? No two people experience 'the absolute truth' the same way. But I digress!
When I lost my father, it was quick. He was shot on a Monday morning. He died in the hospital by midnight that night. That may not sound quick to some, but now with Mom fighting Alzheimer's for 16 years, it was the blink of an eye.
Mom started with dementia. How do I know? I had her tested by a friend who worked for the Mental Health Association. She surprisingly passed. But only a few months later, some local family doctor diagnosed her with Alzheimer's and all but sealed her fate. Months in a nursing home in her old hometown, a year or two in a senior living apartment in a nursing facility in Indy... followed by years in the dementia ward... followed by more years in the Alzheimer's unit. Every day a little death.
Note: The following words are not a dig at any of my siblings or extended family members. I, for one, know that we have our own lives to lead and that we all grieve in our own way. But... if you can't handle the battle... don't commit to the battlefield. Some generals appear... want to take charge and give orders... and then conveniently slip away from the war front. I have seen it. I have lived it. I have 3 out of state siblings who lead very busy lives. I, on the other hand, have decided to stay close/visit often. But please! I am far from the perfect, loving son. In fact, of all my family members, I just wasn't as close to her as they appeared to be. Through my college years, we just pulled apart. We later fought like cats and dogs. There were years, almost a decade, we didn't even communicate. She was convinced I was just being childish, me being certain that I definitely was. We finally did make peace... but soon after she fell sick and became hospitalized. To be released from the hospital, she had to be admitted to a rehab facility which fell on me (and my 4 year old daughter). We had to find a nursing facility and get her admitted all over one Thanksgiving holiday. Memorable, huh? She was moved to an Indy nursing facility a year or so later and she has been there for a decade and a half since.
It's not guilt that keeps me visiting her. It's more personal. I believe it has to do with abandonment issues. I have lost a lot of very close friends and associates over the years. Some by death, most by distance. Facebook has been a marvel at rekindling some friendships. {Note: A true, lasting friendship is the ability to find someone over any space and time... and pick up doing the same stupid shit you were doing when you were last together.} I rarely say 'goodbye' to any one close to me. I may say 'Later' or 'Late'... but never the finality of a goodbye!
Good day, sir! I said...Good day! ... aha Not me! Never Can Say Goodbye said the Jackson Five? I get it!
When it comes to visiting the nursing home, it's gird your loins and expect the unexpected. People fighting to recognize you... people wandering... making weird, inappropriate, some time scary noises... people in all matter of dress. Most are sleeping or quiet, others screaming for help or assistance... as if some orderly is going to take them back in time to a happier time... at home.. with maybe a cat... and a garden. But again, I digress. I visit her because it is what I do. And I do have to psyche myself up to visit the nursing home. It is as if I'm about to play basketball or soccer. I then leave emotionally spent as if I went 6 rounds with a UFC championship fighter. Or better stated... the feeling of just having performed a 3 act play to a handful of Sunday matinee blue hairs who don't applaud but sit and discuss dinner arrangements during the curtain call. Thanks for coming, here's your hat!
Leaving the facility does not give me a warm, fuzzy feeling either. Quite the opposite. It reinforces my abandonment issues. I have to go. Sorry! Some probably might say this emotionally hearkens back to the divorced dad/visitation drive to Chicago trade offs with my daughter... especially when she was very young. Or maybe it is the loss of my father, Mike Sr. Or even heading off to Texas for college, leaving friends and family in my proverbial tumbleweed dust. Hey! Don't look over your shoulder, they might not be there when you look.
I know am not extending my mother's life by visiting... even though she still finds my lack of a filter in most situations worth the price of admission. At 86, small, frail and confined to a wheelchair... she is not experiencing a quality of life we'd wish on any parent. but she is still here. Fighting to remember the whos and whats. But... for a long suffering Alzheimer's patient... she does remember me. My biggest reward. And that is the point... the all of it all! For a long suffering Alzheimer's patient who was supposed to have lost touch with reality years ago, she remembers me (by name, even)... But then again, who could forget a real, larger than life cartoon character like myself? Yep!
So I continue to visit regularly with no set schedule. I get there as often as I can. Being respectful of others. Keeping my feelings in check (since my mouth won't stay there). And what I have come to take from all of this is that... we handle what we can handle! This life lesson has taught me... we can appear to stay strong and positive, but for the caregiver... everyday a little death!
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