Uncle M's visit

Julie's garden

I feel so sorry for my mom lately. She still has bright periods, especially early in the day, but her bouts with confusion lately have seemed darker and more dire.

Uncle M got here last Saturday, and stayed till Thursday, and I stepped back. He and Julie took her to church, and we had him over for a grillout that night -- after Mom's bedtime. Then I went Wednesday and ate with M and Mom at the fancy restaurant.

She was surprisingly sharp, and looked good. She parried with Mark a little, and could laugh at them both. He is not afraid to challenge her when she acts needy or demanding or feels sorry for herself -- when she manipulates -- and she gives it right back. "Thanks for the sermon," she told him once.

M sees Mom's whole life, and can sort out what's always been her -- in a sense, fair game -- and what's attributable to the disease, which she can't be blamed for. I don't have such a clear view, so I just muddle along trying to protect myself.

Here's a voice mail from Mom, a couple days before M arrived:

"Hi Jon, this is Mom. Sorry to bother you, but I just want one thing. What is M's last name? Is it M -- I just can't remember which are his parents and what his last name is. Give me a call when you can. Thanks."

Wow. When I got back to her, she said, "I got it figured out." She'd called, I think, Sister K, who said, "Do you remember M's your brother?"

She called me and M, back at home, a couple times yesterday sounding completely down. In one call to me, she wondered where she was, when she was going to leave, where she lived, how she got there, when I would take her home, and other things that made even less sense. I suppressed, with effort, my urge to rush over there to give comfort, but instead just kept talking, talking, talking, until she calmed down a little and could manage. M said she called him later and some aides had come and told her firmly it was time to eat, and after dinner she felt better.

There's no formula for it. Food, fatigue, time of day, family at a distance -- it all figures somehow, but predicting what she feels and why she feels it -- and what will make her feel better -- is tough.

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She's using her walker almost all the time. M arranged to have some of her chairs switched out for chairs with armrests, which allow her to push up and stand without calling for help.

The bottom of the bike.
(Maybe Bruce will appreciate this.)