Crazy...and not the Patsy Cline kind
I know, it's been awhile. So much material, so little sit down and write time this month! That's a good thing, I know. Saw the kid in NOLA, doing some serious work with deadlines, and some really fun volunteer work, too.
I still have to chill with the 'rents at times, though, especially now. This is the season they get a little bit squirrelly - the weather changes, and the bug to go south is churning in both of their souls. You can see it, feel it - it's wistful, yearning, a hint of sorrow in the voice when they remark about the changing leaves, or the chill in the air. Both of them load up on sweatshirts and jackets, while we walk around in our shorts. Dad, amazed and aghast, continually says, "Put a coat on!" to me, like I'm five.
This week, I spent one to one time with Mom a bit more than I usually do. I picked her up from the program she attends at the Baldwin Center. Now, I know I've written a little about this, but bear with me if you've read it before, because I have a different perspective now. A few months ago or maybe even longer, I walked Mom in to the Baldwin Center in the morning. As I was opening the door for her, people started walking toward me and inviting me to stay with them...about 10 or so of the attendees of the program. We're not talking about the wonderful caregivers at the Center, here, we're talking about the folks like Mom. Have you ever seen Night of the Living Dead? Now, I'm not being judgmental here, but you know the scene (old school, not the newer one) where the zombies are walking toward the house in the field where the non-zombies are?
It was like that...I was the house...they all had the same pace, and same looks on their faces as they came towards me. That was a morning drop off a while back.
So I picked her up this week, and when people do the pick up, it is a different set up. The chairs are all lined up in the large room used. The people in the program are all sitting, with their jackets on. When I walked in the door, all the heads in the chairs swiveled to see me! All looked expectantly at me, and Mom (so glad she still knows who I am!!!!) said, "Hi - you're a pleasant surprise!" and got up to come to the door. The heads all turned back away from the door, but one. She was a bit confused (well, that's why people are there, after all), and I knew why - she's the Mom of one of my classmates from high school. My voice or something about me must have rung a little tiny bell somewhere, and the synapses told her to keep watching.
Mom was proud, like a kindergartner who gets picked up for a special treat. So of course, I had to oblige, and we went to Mickey D's for a small strawberry shake. We ordered (drive through) and came around to the pay window...Mom reached for her fanny pack to give me some money, and said, "I can pay". I told her "I got it, and you don't have any money anyway." She said, "I don't?" "Nope, Daddy doesn't give you any", I said..."Just like when we were first married", she said!!!!!! Too funny...just too funny. She was on the money for quite some time that day...although later on, she struggled badly with her thoughts.
The 'rents are going to be moving to an apartment in Senior Housing. Dad, still living near the river in Egypt, told Mom all about it like she would be excited. They have a tentative date to move and he couldn't resist talking to her like she was still his wife. Well, those of you who know about this crazy brain thing, are aware that rarely do people react as you expect. Mom got furious and angry with Dad. I think she sensed his joy and happiness and understood it was about him more than her, and her processing was just stopped, like a big branch stuck in the river of her brain. He walked her up to me (where I was working...of course) and they sat in my office for about an hour and a half.
I tried to model for Dad as I talked to Mom about what Dad meant, and what this meant for her, in particular. She was terrified of moving but when I reminded her she always wanted to live in an apartment (no, we DON"T say senior housing - call it an APARTMENT, please!!), and that there wouldn't be any stairs, and I would only be a mile or 2 away, and I will visit her every day, she relaxed.
Because her mother lived with us when we were kids, she always said she would never "do that to any of you kids". Well, there wasn't a choice, really, and Dirk and I have been ok with all of this over the past almost 10 years. When I go through the past 10 years with her (about 4 or 5 times a week), she apologizes to me, and says she's sorry for us. I always tell her it really has been ok. Now, I've switched the tune a bit, and she comes around to the idea of the apartment, and "getting out of your house" as she says to me.
Dad doesn't seem to be able, though, to pick up on the hints I throw at him, with how to reinforce the ideas with Mom, in a gentle way. Sometimes like the proverbial bull in a china shop, he runs roughshod over her, or refuses to discuss it at all. We'll get through this change, too, I know we will. Crazy, indeed.
I still have to chill with the 'rents at times, though, especially now. This is the season they get a little bit squirrelly - the weather changes, and the bug to go south is churning in both of their souls. You can see it, feel it - it's wistful, yearning, a hint of sorrow in the voice when they remark about the changing leaves, or the chill in the air. Both of them load up on sweatshirts and jackets, while we walk around in our shorts. Dad, amazed and aghast, continually says, "Put a coat on!" to me, like I'm five.
This week, I spent one to one time with Mom a bit more than I usually do. I picked her up from the program she attends at the Baldwin Center. Now, I know I've written a little about this, but bear with me if you've read it before, because I have a different perspective now. A few months ago or maybe even longer, I walked Mom in to the Baldwin Center in the morning. As I was opening the door for her, people started walking toward me and inviting me to stay with them...about 10 or so of the attendees of the program. We're not talking about the wonderful caregivers at the Center, here, we're talking about the folks like Mom. Have you ever seen Night of the Living Dead? Now, I'm not being judgmental here, but you know the scene (old school, not the newer one) where the zombies are walking toward the house in the field where the non-zombies are?
It was like that...I was the house...they all had the same pace, and same looks on their faces as they came towards me. That was a morning drop off a while back.
So I picked her up this week, and when people do the pick up, it is a different set up. The chairs are all lined up in the large room used. The people in the program are all sitting, with their jackets on. When I walked in the door, all the heads in the chairs swiveled to see me! All looked expectantly at me, and Mom (so glad she still knows who I am!!!!) said, "Hi - you're a pleasant surprise!" and got up to come to the door. The heads all turned back away from the door, but one. She was a bit confused (well, that's why people are there, after all), and I knew why - she's the Mom of one of my classmates from high school. My voice or something about me must have rung a little tiny bell somewhere, and the synapses told her to keep watching.
Mom was proud, like a kindergartner who gets picked up for a special treat. So of course, I had to oblige, and we went to Mickey D's for a small strawberry shake. We ordered (drive through) and came around to the pay window...Mom reached for her fanny pack to give me some money, and said, "I can pay". I told her "I got it, and you don't have any money anyway." She said, "I don't?" "Nope, Daddy doesn't give you any", I said..."Just like when we were first married", she said!!!!!! Too funny...just too funny. She was on the money for quite some time that day...although later on, she struggled badly with her thoughts.
The 'rents are going to be moving to an apartment in Senior Housing. Dad, still living near the river in Egypt, told Mom all about it like she would be excited. They have a tentative date to move and he couldn't resist talking to her like she was still his wife. Well, those of you who know about this crazy brain thing, are aware that rarely do people react as you expect. Mom got furious and angry with Dad. I think she sensed his joy and happiness and understood it was about him more than her, and her processing was just stopped, like a big branch stuck in the river of her brain. He walked her up to me (where I was working...of course) and they sat in my office for about an hour and a half.
I tried to model for Dad as I talked to Mom about what Dad meant, and what this meant for her, in particular. She was terrified of moving but when I reminded her she always wanted to live in an apartment (no, we DON"T say senior housing - call it an APARTMENT, please!!), and that there wouldn't be any stairs, and I would only be a mile or 2 away, and I will visit her every day, she relaxed.
Because her mother lived with us when we were kids, she always said she would never "do that to any of you kids". Well, there wasn't a choice, really, and Dirk and I have been ok with all of this over the past almost 10 years. When I go through the past 10 years with her (about 4 or 5 times a week), she apologizes to me, and says she's sorry for us. I always tell her it really has been ok. Now, I've switched the tune a bit, and she comes around to the idea of the apartment, and "getting out of your house" as she says to me.
Dad doesn't seem to be able, though, to pick up on the hints I throw at him, with how to reinforce the ideas with Mom, in a gentle way. Sometimes like the proverbial bull in a china shop, he runs roughshod over her, or refuses to discuss it at all. We'll get through this change, too, I know we will. Crazy, indeed.
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