Blessings In Disguise...

She sat on the examination table swinging her still shapely legs.
Legs that I always envied.

Her arms hugged her body and her gaze settled on the door to the room.

"Are you cold, Mom?", I asked.

"Yes.  A little", she answered quietly.

"Do you want me to put your socks back on?"

"Yes.  That would be nice."

I bent over her and slipped the thick, cotton socks back on her aging feet, noticing that her toes were bent and misshapen a bit and that it was time for a pedicure.

"Mmmm....that's better".

She smiled and continued to swing her legs back and forth. 

Together, we continued to wait.

  

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ten minutes earlier I had met with her doctor, unbeknownst to my parents. I had slipped a note to the nurse asking to meet privately with him.  When he completed my dad's physical exam and brought Dad into the room with mom and me, the nurse looked my way and said, "I'm going to pull you out of here a minute."

I knew she had read my note.

The doctor walked into the room the nurse had placed me in. 

"What can I do for you, Laurie?" he inquired gently.

Numerous thoughts slipped in and out of my mind.  I caught one and told him,  "I just wanted you to know that the woman sitting in that room is just a shell of the woman that raised me.  A shell of the woman who I knew six months ago."

He nodded knowingly.

I continued. "I know she has dementia. Probably vascular dementia from her strokes and the pituitary tumor, but where do we go from here? She's not only losing the capacity to think of words and carry on a conversation, but she's losing the strength in her legs. She's more depressed and cries so easily. She sleeps a lot.  She can't hear a thing and won't get hearing aids. Does she need a geriatrician? Or a doctor who specializes in dementia? And I can tell that Dad is feeling the stress of caring for her. I can see the weariness in his face and the fear in his eyes. Where do we go from here?  Are there meds she can take?  Extra vitamins we should be giving her? What about support....?

I took a deep breath, realizing I was rambling.

The tone of his voice was soft and caring.  

"I know what you're saying. 

Yes....your mother has Alzheimer's...."

When I actually heard him say those words, it was almost like I was thrown into a slow motion movie with no sound. I could see his mouth moving, forming vowels, but I couldn't hear the words. I was underwater. Drowning. I struggled to break free and concentrate on what he was saying.

"...and she is certainly not going to get any better. She will need more care in the days ahead. It will be a trying time for you and your family.  There is an Alzheimer's Association where you can get more information and support. As far as a geriatrician, I wouldn't be against that at all - if you can find a good one, and that will be difficult.  

She needs to eat three good meals a day with fruits and vegetables.

She needs to get regular exercise, and she needs to get out and socialize as much as possible. 

Don't let her sit in the house and watch TV all day and all evening."

I nodded numbly and took another deep breath as he continued.

"We'll stay on top of this and will give her the best care we can. If and when you need more help or want to talk again, just give me a call."

We walked back the examination room where Mom and Dad were patiently waiting.  

I watched Mom's face as the doctor began to ask her questions while he typed her answers into his computer.  She remembered her last name.  She remembered what month it was.  But her face was pained as she struggled to tell him what year it was, and when her birthday was.  I crumpled inside. I wondered what thoughts were going through her mind knowing that she was failing at her answers.

I watched as the doctor listened to her heart and lungs.  

"Please, Lord....keep her as healthy as possible for as long as possible...", I found myself praying. "Give us the knowledge to know how to help her through the rest of her life. Give her the strength to keep clinging to the strong-willed spirit she was born with."

I thought back to my childhood. Mom always "wore the pants in the family".  She made the decisions in our family life with Dad happily supporting her and backing her up.  She and I butted heads many a time when I was younger.  We had some interesting arguments and disagreements - probably because we were a lot alike in the way we viewed life. But I knew that I also carried my Dad's laid-back attitude as far as letting things get to us. We knew which battles needed to be fought and which ones to let go.

I looked over at Dad sitting next to me.  He looked weary.  I knew that he and Mom butted heads to this day - a sure sign of his frustration and fear. He didn't want to lose the woman he loved, and he had no control over it at this point. She was ever so gradually slipping away from us all. I knew how much he loved her, too.  I had watched his face many times in numerous hospital rooms during the past 10 years while Mom battled for her life with a bleeding liver, clots in her legs, and a pituitary tumor.  He held her hand until the nurses rolled her into the cold treatment room to receive radiation treatments to shrink that tumor.  Treatments that would eventually burn her optic nerves resulting in complete blindness in her right eye and 75% blindness in her left. He was there for her through it all. They were so devoted to each other.  They were bound together by trials and tribulations as well as through the love of God they shared.

Dad & Mom, October 2011

He had stepped into leading the family during these tough times.  He shouldered the responsibility like one of God's faithful soldiers.  He knew it was his time. It was like he scooped up the shattered pieces and and patiently tried to piece them back together. He tenderly cared for Mom while constantly giving time and energy to my brother and me. We became much closer while sharing each others' pain. God planned it that way, I think.  I believe that the trials in this life are His blessings in disguise.

 Mom clung to my arm as she shuffled next to me on our way out of the room, dragging her cane as usual.  I was always reminding her to use the cane instead of dragging it behind her.  Dad headed to the check out window to complete some paperwork.  I took her out to the waiting room and settled her into a chair.

"Where are we going now?" she asked.

"To the building next door to have some blood drawn, Mom," I answered.

"Where?"

"Next door."

"Where's that?"

"Don't worry, we'll get you there, Mom."

"Where are we going?  And where's your Dad...?"

A shell. My mother was a shell of the strong woman she used to be. Her thoughts now jumbled together and her personality childlike. Completely dependent on Dad, me, and my brother. Being faithfully carried in the palm of God's hand through each day.

I will always carry that mother I once knew in my heart and soul. She is part of who I am.  She is the part of me who will stand her ground and not bend under trials. She is the part of me who will claw her way through experiences that are painful and frightening. She is the part of me who will love deeply and fully with the grace of God.

Someday, she may not remember who I am....

but I will always remember who she is.

God
is bigger than all of this.

I am following Him in my present
and
leaving tomorrow in His hands...

[ Love & Blessings ]

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