Paper goods

        My mom was the original recycler. She also had a slight case of what we now know is called hoarding. We still (and I mean up until I moved in with her) had shirt boxes from E.J. Korvettes, Gimbels, and Woolworths. She saved and reused aluminum foil (a drawer full of pieces folded neatly),  plastic bags (thousands of them stuffed under the sink), the little ties that come on a loaf of bread, and wrapping paper (enough to wrap up all the food we didn't eat - remember the boiled broccoli?) for the starving children of whatever country was in the news. My mom's favorite line at dinner was, "If you don't eat it, I'll have to give it to the dog". I am not sure she realized that this was not a threat.
         My mom had a room dedicated to storing all of the religious cards she received every month. She must have been on a hundred different religious order's lists. We are talking about 1000's of cards for every occasion where services would be said for the recipient. My mom kept those priests very busy saying masses. She probably single- handedly saved the souls of thousands of people. Bless her.
          That kind of behavior sort of gets a little turned inside itself when she began her decline. Paper towels became paramount. Now she has stacks of folded paper towels inside books and magazines she is reading; stacked on the coffee table; jammed into the couch cushions; inside her bathrobe pockets; inside her purse;  and last but not really, up her sleeves. She has collections of paper stuffed inside any piece of  mail we get with the occasional fig newton or fortune cookie wrapped inside, like a secret treasure.
           She also goes through combs by the case. They get wrapped inside those paper towels and get thrown out. Who would have thunk that I would be buying combs by the gross?
           Pretty much every couple of days, I go through the table tops, her side table, her pocketbook, and her dresser to make sure food has not been wrapped up and stored  "for later". She should have been a magician because I hardly ever catch her at this.
            They (the scientists that be, whoever they are) have purported that there might be a gene ( no doubt wrapped in tin foil) that might be responsible for hoarding. I know Tee's got it and I think I got a dose myself. I buy toilet paper and paper towels by the tractor trailer load because I have a fear of running out. "Be prepared" said the Boy Scout motto. If you need to buy one (of anything), buy two or three so there is a back up. Wow, do I have a back up plan. Anyone need peanut butter?
            I use newspapers to wrap gifts.  If I have plastic bags (I try to use my 'green' reusable bags), I use them instead of tissue paper. But some behavior dies hard. I have enough twist ties to go from here to California, just in case I need one...ya never know.

Wandering

     Before I realized the extent of brain changes that were going on, my Mom still attended church on her own. (She, a devout Catholic). We would drive her and then pick her up. She began to attempt to walk home if we weren't right at the door. She was walking in the right direction but the seed for fear was planted in me.
     She still attended church, but we were never late. When we moved and she was attending a new church, I was still able to drop her off, see her to the inside and wait to pick her up. You might ask why I didn't go in with her, but I don't want to answer on the grounds that it may incriminate me.
      This was also the time I had gotten  her a "I've fallen and I can't get up" personal alarms. She was able to understand and repeat back to me how to use it. Fortunately, she never needed it. She did, however, press it accidentally and told me the Police were asking her very loudly if she was okay. It took me awhile, but I figured out it must have been the alert. (I was a detective in a previous life.) I called them and they informed me that they had, in fact, contacted her thru their receiver. My personal recommendation is anyone, at any age, who lives alone or spends a lot of time alone, should invest in one of these devices.

      When my mom was forgetting her way around the house, we attached a door alarm. We would set it at night, and if the door was opened without unlocking it, an extremely loud alarm would sound. She opened the door once and the noise severely upset her. We (my roommate and myself) have set it off multiple times because we have forgotten it was on. Ah, the vagaries of life.

         I looked into GPS systems, but what I was looking for has apparently not been invented yet. If only I was good with electronics. GPS is in cell phones, "Lo jack", "On star", SIRIUS radio but it is not in a pendant or bracelet. Nursing homes have electronic devices so if the resident walks out the front door, an alarm will sound. There are medic alert bracelets and pendants but they are only good after the person has wandered and then been found. (I have read too many stories of people with dementia or Alzheimer's who have wandered away and then been hit by a car.)
          I have spoken to several companies and their response is always the same, "she could carry a cell phone". If my mom could remember to carry a cell phone, she would not be wandering and would remember where she lives. You could own a fleet of cars and look on a computer and know where each car is, but they can't invent something to see where your parent or child is.
         
          My mom couldn't figure out a cell phone 15 years ago, never mind now. Her VCR flashed "12:00" forever (a sure sign that someone is not good with electronics and probably never will.)

          Today, we have signs on the doors to tell her what the door is for ie. Mom's Room, The Front Door, The Bathroom. It helps when she can't figure out which way to go. Also, rest assured, she watches "The Best in Catholic Television": the mass, the rosary spoken by a  priest and the rosary spoken by teenagers sitting cross legged on a Hawaiian beach each and every day.

Memories

   Memories do not exist in a straight line. They are more like children's bubbles...tiny and big, bubble within a bubble, bubbles stuck together, bubbles perched on the edge of a leaf of grass; bubbles resting precariously on your hair; and when they pop, you can still see what they were made from. As any child knows, if you catch a bubble on your wand, you can blow new bubbles out of it. But if they land in your eyes, they burn like a son of a gun..

Growing up, I can only remember a few things. They are like 8 x 10 glossy black and white photos/ a still life. The meaning that they have is the meaning I gave them. I don't know if what I think is true, whatever that is. Einstein said "Reality is an illusion. A persistent illusion, but an illusion nonetheless."

My brother Tee remembers everything...what color socks he was wearing on August 24th, 1962; that my grandfather used to drink tea by the gallon; where my father's first job was; what the name of the other dishwasher at Howard Johnson's in Lake Tahoe in 1968. Ad nauseum.

The things my mom remembers with the most depth and clarity centers on babies and music. (I was watching an Elvis Presley concert- don't ask, another story) When I looked over at her, she was singing and knew all the words. I didn't think she ever listened to Elvis before. Whenever she sees my friend Jay, my mom introduces herself. When she sees Connor, she says "how's my little boy, Connor.?".

Memories and logic have nothing to do with each other. Things that are illogical to us (that my 90 year old mom is talking to her  (50ish year old) daughter about her mother (who would have to be 150 years old by now) being alive are never questioned by my mom. Things just are. Talk about living in the moment and not having any constraints.

My mom had repeating bad dreams about three young girls (about 10 years old or so) who were going through her things and stealing her clothes. Did this really happen when she was a child? Who knows. Is it happening now? Not according to my version of reality. Can I convince my mother that there weren't three girls in the house? Nope. All I can do is go along with it.
Early on, she would believe me if I said no one was in the house but us. Now I know she believes only what she believes at that moment and says to me "whatever you say". That translates to "you're an idiot" and I already knew that.

Real events impact on the memories, like triggers. My mom cannot remember that her husband has passed away. She does not remember the funeral or him being ill. She thinks we (the family) kept it from her. I made the mistake of telling her that he was dead and it was like her hearing it for the first time. It was heartbreaking for me, and heartbreaking for her. The next day, she did not remember the conversation. Again, I told her the truth. Apparently I really am an idiot. We both ended up crying.
The devastating events in Haiti produced images and videos of naval ships coming in to port. My mom was annoyed thinking that Dubya was on one of those ships (logically, he would have been 89) and why wasn't he calling her. This time I had learned my lesson. I said, "he would call when he gets a chance".

And now, a message from our next bubble.

Dementia is contagious

Not really but it sure seems like that sometimes. When you are living with someone whose reality is a little permeable, you surely start to question your own. I was giving my mom some of her meds and she asked, "what's this for?" I told her it was a memory pill. She looked at me funny (which she does when she doesn't believe me- all the time, it seems) and said that her memory is fine. And she could drive, too. And walk down to the 'avenue' and go shopping. The last time she walked down to the 'avenue' was in 1978. She has trouble walking across the living room.

In addition, my roommate kind of threatens me if I start getting demented.  When I told a friend about my concern of what would happen should I become demented. He said "have Dee take care of you". Well Dee is only a year younger than I am, so that's not going to work.
I also return the favor by threatening my roommate if she gets demented. When I tell her something four times and she still doesn't remember, she says, "I really don't pay any attention when you are speaking". Sometimes I can't stand her.

I don't have children; I don't have Long Term Care; you rarely know you have dementia until after the brain changes have begun. What will happen to me if dementia or Alzheimer's takes hold?
 Slightest memory lapses becomes glaring. I misplaced my wallet for days because I didn't use it. When I finally went looking for it, I could only remember the last place I had used it. I looked and looked. Dee looked. I looked again, in the same places I looked the first time. Finally I had another pair of eyes, Sue, and I found it at the bottom of a shopping bag.

My chihuahua is 16 years old and also has dementia. Fortunately, he is only nine pounds and can be carried outside to pee. He knows where the food is and where his bed is but he is very confused with everything else. He, like my mom, paces. Sometimes, they are like a very slow moving parade.

With my mom, we frequently ask her where she is going. She never really knows; but I don't know where I'm going either. One day at a time.