I have a hard time writing this post because of its predictability. Ma reacted as expected – primarily confusion and fear, with a secondary happiness upon seeing people she knew. Dementia stripped her of any memory of the edifice but not the souls who live there. It was like a high school reunion – old faces in a strange but lively hall. I can’t figure it out and should really just stop trying.
Yesterday she was more confused than Saturday. The last time I visited, around 5p, she said, “Lisa! Thank God you are here. I was getting so nervous wondering where you were and how I was going to get home.” I had to explain that she had to sleep there tonight but that I would see her again in the morning. She meekly said, “Alright.” And snap went the strings of my heart.
Yet aside from the confusion, she seemed fairly happy at suppertime. She was interacting with her table mates – two Navy men just like my father was, one Italian who speaks the language in dialect, and Mary - Mean Mary - who calls my mother Roly Poly behind her back (I heard her once and respectfully called her on it).
So we plug along and move forward. I expect to be there at least twice a day and hope to take her out, even for short rides or visits to the house, a few times a week. The anxiety is ever present but I am trying to give it all up to God and leave the work and the future to Him. So difficult when I’m here on earth and He is up there in Heaven.