Today, after almost three weeks in rehab, mom will be moving back to the rest home. She is well enough to make the transition back to her permanent living facility.
I am filled with a heavy sense of dread. Mom has become accustomed to rehab, knows her room and enjoys the company of the staff. She loves the daily bingo and her short naps between playing and suppertime. Now, we are, for all intents and purposes, back to square one; the gun is just going off at the start line.
Hello to all the old anxieties - how will she get along with the residents, how will she deal with her confusion, will she even LIKE where she is staying? After all, because of her disease, this is a completely new experience for her. Her memory has been stripped of the eight months she has lived at the home. This is day one at kindergarten, her first hour on the job. And I am the anxious parent with the sick feeling in her stomach hoping that she is liked and she’ll get along. The only difference is I get to literally follow her around (I doubt I'll leave her side today), watch her struggle through every new turn and bump in the road.
Ach, I am filled with sadness and unhappy anticipation today when instead I “should be” focusing on sending positive energy and thought toward this “new” and “first” big step.
Alzheimer’s, in our uneasy and permanent relationship, you are not my friend today. Sometimes I feel as if we’ve gotten close, understand each other like true buddies, but in this moment, it is safe to say we’re cold-stoned enemies.