Thank you for your prayers

I so appreciate your prayers on behalf of my visit with my mom. She was in bed when I arrived and sleeping soundly. After trying repeatedly to wake her, I just chatted with her while she slept.

I was able to tell Mom the things I wanted to share with her. I believe she heard me. It was wonderful just spending a little time with my mom, rubbing lotion on her hands, reminiscing and having a one sided heart-to-heart conversation.

The peace of God was with me. Thank you for your prayers and supplication on my behalf.

Love,
Lila

It's Time

This afternoon we are heading back to Birmingham to visit my mom and see my brother. Visits "home" haven't been as much fun for quite some time. I've written about my mom before. We stopped in Birmingham last week and I was able to see Mom for about five minutes.

Mom has vascular dementia (looks like Alzheimer's Disease) and has been in a nursing center for four years. She was in an assisted living facility for almost a year before that. (The photo to the left was taken about 4 1/2 years ago.)

Because of our distance (I live in west Texas and my mom and brother live in Birmingham) Mom's decline is always very noticeable, as it was this time.

Mom was put on hospice a couple of months ago. My brother was reluctant to do so, but I encouraged him to check into it to see how it could benefit he and mom. He saw the benefits.

My brother, Bobby, and I discussed Mom's journey through this dreadful disease last week. Certain dates have escaped my memory. He reminded me that she hasn't known us since May 10, 2000. That's right. She knew us on May 9th. Eight and a half years.

This afternoon when I visit with Mom, I'll do all the talking as Mom can no longer speak. Mom cannot do anything for herself. Someone has to feed her pureed food. In fact, they have to wake her up for each bite Being in the retirement living industry we call patients like Mom, a feeder. Mom is a feeder. Crass sounding when it's your mom.

I may try to feed her, but my biggest goal this afternoon is to take her somewhere where we can be alone. That's a challenge in itself in a nursing center. I want to rub lotion on her hands and arms. I want to remind her of the many ways she has been a great mom. I want to remind her of the rich legacy she is leaving. I want to play the music box I'll have with me that plays "Que Sera, Sera". This is a song she sang to my brother and me when we were children. I want to thank her for being my mom. I want to tell her that our loved ones are in heaven waiting on her - - my daddy, her mom, her dad, her sister, her brother and many more. And, finally, I want to tell her that it is o.k. for her to leave us. It's just like Mom to stay here with us thinking she can do one more thing for us. I want to encourage her to go on ahead and get things ready for us.

Mom never wanted to live this way. I've asked God so many times why this happened. I don't think I'd understand his answer. It's o.k. I don't have to understand.

I'd appreciate your prayers as I have this one sided conversation with my mom. I believe she will hear me. As always, I'm

Thankful,
Lila

Wonderful, Wonderful, Wonderful

I visited my mom in a nursing center in Birmingham, Alabama a few weeks ago. My mom has vascular dementia and that has robbed her of her memory.

Long gone are the days when she lit up a room by sharing her delight and joy with everyone. All of my friends enjoyed coming to my house I think more often than not, because of my mom than me. Mom always took a genuine interest in everyone she met.

As a young teenager I was often sullen going through the pre-adolescent angst. My mom was relentless in her pursuit of joy and gratitude. We heard Mom around our house frequently saying, "Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful" or "That's delightful!" She would sit at the kitchen table and paint or draw because as she said, "it made her heart sing."

There really aren't words to describe this last visit with my mom. Since I only get to see her a couple of times a year, the change in her is significant each time. This time I found Mom in a Geri chair and spending most of her time sleeping. She will eat if someone has the patience to wake her up for each bite. Our times together were basically me watching her sleep. When I was about to leave, I leaned down and hugged her and kissed her and told her how thankful I was that she was my mom. Her eyes fluttered awake momentarily as she said to me, "Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful."

Mom is still in there. Even though she may not know who I am, I'll never forget who she is or what she has done for me. She showed me that gratitude in all things is beneficial to me and those around me. Out of that gratitude, joy is born.

The soul remembers what time nor memory can erase.

Uneraseable,
Lila

Let's Catch the Thief!

I would like to invite you to join me on my personal journey through the Harris' family burglary. Vascular Dementia (a form of dementia resembling Alzheimer's Disease) robbed me and my brother of our mom and my children of their grandmother. It beat them up and stole my dad's wife. It robbed my aunts of their sister. It stripped my mom's friend of their dear friend.

I’ll never forget when the robbery started. At first there were the smaller concerns: Mom couldn’t find her car keys. (Haven’t we all been there?) When Mom took our daughters to the mall she got them ice cream when they got there and frozen yogurt before they left. I just thought she was spoiling them like all good grandmothers do. Then another time she couldn’t find her car in a parking lot and had to call my dad to drive her around so that she could find it.

But then, the more wrenching things started to happen. Mom and Dad came over for Christmas and I baked Dilly Bread…a favorite recipe for holidays in our family. Mom walked in the kitchen and said, “Oh! That smells so good. What is it?” When I told her it was our Dilly Bread recipe, she commented that she had never heard of it. I felt I’d been punched in the stomach!

My dad showed more concern as he told me that Mom was doing things like putting the ham in the kitchen cabinet, asking him every five minutes when her doctor’s appointment was, and various other situations of concern.

While I begged Daddy to have Mom seen at the doctor about her forgetfulness, he couldn’t broach the subject with her. Finally when things got so bad, we had a family meeting. Mom admitted to being forgetful but she didn’t think the doctors could do anything. So…nothing was done.

I lived three hours away but began calling my parents daily. My dad encouraged me to not call them daily as my mother was feeling I was checking up on “the crazy woman.” When I communicated with her family practice doctor about our concerns, he metaphorically patted me on the head and told me that “forgetfulness is a normal part of aging.” NOT! I’ve worked in the aging industry since 1982 and while it’s true that older people generally get Alzheimer’s Disease or some form of dementia when they’re older, not younger, it is not a given that one will develop the disease.

The day that is forever etched in my brain is the day I got the call from my dad. He said, “Susan, I don’t know what to do. Your mom is telling me she sees her brother, Paul, (he was deceased) and she is making no sense at all.” I told my dad to call 911. Driving to Birmingham I questioned what I’d find. I pleaded with God to protect my mom and to give me wisdom as I lovingly cared for her and my dad.

Upon arrival at Mom’s hospital room, my world was forever changed. A nurse tending to Mom turned to me and said to her, “Well, who has come to visit you?” Without missing a beat, Mom said, “Cotton.” Cotton was a friend of Mom’s.

my momma didn’t know me. The unthinkable had happened. The world took on a different hue and started spinning uncontrollably. We were told by the neurologist that she had Vascular Dementia and that any type of extenuating health situation would cause her to go to the next lower plateau: a urinary tract infection, a fall, even a bad cold.

Plans were made for mom’s return home. First, we had to get all healthy foods for her, put out more family photos so she might remember us, buy a gate for the stairs so she wouldn’t go downstairs and outside during the middle of the night. WAIT! A gate for the stairs? Isn’t that something you get for your pet or a toddler? That’s not something you buy for your mother!

My dad could never bring himself to put my mom in a dementia care facility and dutifully and lovingly cared for her until his body wore out and he literally died on the floor of the professional building of his doctor. I believe he was tired and needed to get some rest. I believe this robber also took my dad from me.

Fast forward to today. My mom is in a nursing center and sleeps most of the time. She lives in the same city as my brother. He visits her daily and when he can spend the time to wake her after every bite she will eat, but most of the time it takes her an hour to eat a meal. She is on hospice and is living the last stages of her life. She never wanted to live this way.

As with any robbery, I’ve experienced the gamut of emotions associated with it.

Anger. Why my mom? Why our family? Why hasn’t something been done about it by now?

Helplessness. I’d been in the aging services field a long time and I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. If this can happen to us, then anything can happen. Fear begins. Will I or my other loved ones be next?

Guilt. If only I had tricked Mom and gotten her into see a doctor sooner. Maybe she would be a lot better now. After all, I knew the benefits of getting Mom on medications for the disease sooner rather than later.

Frustration. There’s not a stinking thing I can do to be proactive about the situation. I have had to be reactive.

But do I really have to be reactive? Or, can I do something now that will make a difference in the lives of others?

Will you please join me in the walk to rob this robber of its goal in life: to steal beautiful memories from others…

We have an opportunity to help others put bars on the windows of their memories to keep the robber out. I’d love to hear from you. shconwell@mindspring.com

Alzheimer’s Memory Walk

Saturday, September 20^th

8 a.m.

Nelson Park

Abilene, TX

TO REGISTER, GO TO
www.alz.org

Purposed,
Lila