My Mother's Hands

A short tribute to my sweet mother who may not

remember me, but that's okay.  She's still a sweet

and smiling person that I call Mom.

I’ll never forget my mother’s hands.

When I was a child, her hands

            were young and smooth, and

now worn and blemished, but beautiful .

My mother’s hands were always there.

These hands have held her

babies and wrapped them

with love.

These hands tied our shoes,

buttoned our dresses,

held our hands as we crossed

the street.

These hands were cool on

our fevered brow during

those childhood illnesses.

These hands picked us up

when we fell.

They soothed the many hurts

of life.

These hands have written letters,

dialed the phone,

worked crossword puzzles,

sewn our clothes,

crocheted baby blankets,

cooked meals,

washed dishes,

brushed hair.

Then came the time

these hands held her grandchildren

when they wanted to play.

Through the journey of life,

my parents held tightly to each other’s hand,

letting go, only when separated

by death.

I know she's looking to hold her husband's hand
            once again, and soon the time will come.
            And I know I'll always remember my mother's
            hands.

The Fog

The Fog

A Walk with Dementia

Hidden in the swirling mist

and hazy curtains of fog,

I cannot find her.

I call out to her, hoping for a glimpse of her.

“Where are you?”

“Can you hear me?”

Suddenly the fog clears.

Her eyes focus on me

and she smiles.

A fleeting memory floats by,

but the fog sweeps in again.

She’s lost in the rubble of her ruined brain.

The best of her is gone…

hidden in the swirling mist

and hazy curtains of fog.

I hate this disease.

The Great Escape...

The nursing home called to tell me that Mom has escaped. It was right before dinner on Sunday evening. Caregivers and staff were busy rounding up residents for dinner. It is a busy time when the residents are taken down to the dining room. Mom had gone to the opposite end of the home and gone out the door.

Then she managed to open the gate and was rolling down the driveway into the street. It is not a busy

street, but still it could have been a dangerous situation for her.

For months she has worn an ankle monitor that would sound an alarm if she got close to a door. But recently it had gotten very tight and she had not tried to leave because she was really weak, so it was removed.

So no alarm, busy staff, and one runaway Granny. When they caught up with her, she told them she was going to town. She was fine.

Part of me says, yea Mom, you still have spunk, but then the other part of me says, what are you doing, Mom, and where were your caregivers. No good answers…..

Birthday Party

Friday, March 2, 2012

Mom will be 90 in a week.  I can’t believe she has lived almost 90 years.  We celebrated her birthday a week early with a small party at the nursing home.  My sisters and brother came, and we invited several people from church and hospice.  When her minister asked her how old she was, she told him that she was 25.   “I like that age,” she told him.

She was amazing.   For the first time in months she talked and laughed.  I’m not sure she knew what was going on, but she was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.    She ate cake, more cake, cookies, fruit and whatever she could reach on the table.   She told my sister to quit stuffing her face and get her some punch.  I thought I would fall out of my chair.   Mom was so feisty. 

It’s funny, she would tell people, “Oh, I haven’t seen you in so long.   Where are you living now? “   Of course, everyone who attended has lived in our town forever, but who knows where Mom was in her brain.   Her conversations were somewhat appropriate, better than they’ve been in months. 

The nursing home staff and several hospice workers also stopped by for cake and punch.   The activities director brought his guitar and we all sang “happy birthday” and several other happy songs.

As we sat with Mom after the party, my brother would tell her that he was Jay.  She told him, “Well, you do resemble him.”  He pointed to my sister and told Mom “That’s Ruth.”  Mom responded, “No.” And that was that.   Then he pointed to my little sister and said “That’s Janis Carol.”  Mom said, “Maybe, but I would call her Jan.  Then he pointed to me and said “That’s Ellen.”   No comment from Mom.  She thought a minute and asked, “Where’s Elizabeth?”  That’s my first name.  Again he pointed to me and said, “That’s Elizabeth Ellen.”  She studied me and said, “No.”    

We all laughed and she did too.  It doesn’t matter if she knows exactly who we are.  I just hope she knows that we are people who love her.

Amazing woman

My mother is an amazing woman.  Since October Mom has had her ups and downs.   The last down was almost the end.   Around Christmas she started bleeding in her urinary tract...bladder..somewhere.  There was lots of blood in her catheter bag.  She was weak and didn't want to eat.

It was serious and she is DNR.  The nursing home staff and hospice staff and doctors agreed that antibiotics were needed and Mom might need blood.  They put her to bed and gave her medication to keep her comfortable.  For several days they monitored her blood pressure which was falling.  They told me that I might want to say my goodbyes.  They cried, I cried, but I understood the situation. 

I was sitting by her bed watching her sleep and remembering years past.  Her breathing was raggedy and seemed to take great effort.  Then Mom opened her eyes and weakly whispered something....I leaned in to hear her and asked "what?"   She said in a much stronger voice, "I want toast, egg....and milk."  A turning point!   Quickly I told the nurse and she said that was a good sign.  They got her toast, soup, jello and milk
and she gobbled it down.  Within a few days she was back in her wheelchair cruising the halls of the nursing home.

She doesn't know me now, but she still has a smile for me.  Especially since I take her cookies most every day.   She doesn't talk very much anymore.  She can't seem to form a thought and verbalize it.  I like to take my husband or granddaughter with me when I visit, as she seems to enjoy hearing us talk and watching our faces.   I don't know, but I hope we give her a little window into the world.

She is an amazing woman...a woman of contradictions...fragile and strong, hard-headed but has a smile for everybody.