Leading up to October of 2017, mom kept telling us, “I think it’s starting.” I didn’t listen. I would fuss at her, “You’re going to manifest it if you keep saying it’s coming!”
Did she accelerate it? Probably not. Did I listen well? Absolutely not. I’m still learning to listen, especially when someone is talking about him- or herself.
I fussed at mom but she was right. That I ever questioned her feels like a betrayal now. Why did I think I knew more about the mind and body that she had lived in for eight decades? She had always been in tune with her body and she saw the Bull coming from a long way off. She told us, but we didn’t start listening until she received the medical diagnosis.
Every Alzheimer’s journey is unique, and some are radically different. The experience impacts everyone inside the the bull’s pasture. Caregivers at the beginning of a journey will make mistakes. Go easy on yourself. Do your best. Show up and enjoy the moments that can be enjoyed.
I forgot how much this first blog focused me finding my place in mom’s journey when I started this series.
I can only hope to become as wise and good as whatever led me to begin splitting my time between my home in Baton Rouge and the farm. A caregiver can never do enough, but I like to believe that at the end of this journey, my dad and I had been enough.
©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2023
Monthly One-Week Visits
Once a month, for one week, I go to the “farm,” my folks’ place. They live a mere ninety miles away, but due to my long hours and endless projects, months can slip away between visits.
Earlier this year, mom was diagnosed with early stages of Alzheimer’s. Months between visits suddenly seemed unacceptable, so I decided to make a change.
Once a month, I throw a bag of clothes and my computer in the car, and the dogs and I head to the farm. I set up a docking station in the house we rent from my parents and spend a week in our little country home in the water hollow, just down the field from my parents’ home.
I’m not sharing this as a brag. I don’t have a clue what I am doing. In fact, I felt a little selfish at first. Even though I’m working, the visits are a nice break. I don’t have the worries and distractions that pressure me when I’m at home (in the city). I don’t have to feed or coddle anyone. In fact, I get coddled! Mom shows up with clementines and cashews. Dinnertime? I just show up. It’s already prepared.
Am I doing this for me or am I doing it for my parents? Can I make a difference given my ridiculous work hours?
I’ll answer the second question first.
Yes. Absolutely yes.
While I spend most of the eighteen hours I’m awake sitting in front of my computer, I can take a five-minute walk and I’m in mom’s kitchen. I walk up the field three to four times a day, sometimes to join my parents for a meal, sometimes to help mom do something, and sometimes just to visit. But can I make a difference? Just as doubt was setting in, I realized that the insight I gain during the visits and meals are helping me identify ways to help. This is a new journey for us, and although it’s not one I’m thrilled about, I’m blessed and joyful that I am able to be on board for it.
Regarding the first question: “Am I doing this for me or am I doing it for my parents?”
Both. Why shouldn’t it be both?
For me: The visits are self-indulgent. They take me out of my work bubble. I may not work less while I’m there, but I move more, look up more, breathe better air. I have a break from the regular pressures of home, and I get a little spoiled.
For my parents: This is an uncertain journey. The uncertainty is unsettling. I may not know how to help, but I know it helps to talk, share ideas we’ve found, and be present for each other.
The Magic of Making Time
Remember I said I didn’t have time to do this, but decided to make time? It’s true.
My garden had gone to weeds, the walls in one room need to be torn out and replaced, all of the windows in my house need to be replaced, the shed needs to come down, two ponds need to be dug up and moved . . . The grass and weeds keep growing, the dust and webs keep collecting, the dogs keep shedding, and I can’t keep up because I work ten to fifteen hours a day. I didn’t have time.
What happened when I made time? The list of to-dos didn’t magically diminish, but, magically, I have more energy and vision for tackling that list. I’ll continue to make the time for this uncertain journey, for myself and for my parents.
Enjoy the photos I took on my walks between the water hollow and the main house (it’s not why I go but it’s why I look up when I do).
©Copyright Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved, 2017.
Because I started reading you towards the end of your journey, it’s interesting starting from the beginning. Your Mom knew and you fussed at her- my mother in law never voiced any self awareness of what was happening to her. As we started to see changes, her caregivers (her children and daughters in law (including me) were in denial for some time until we could no longer deny it. Perhaps that denial is normal. I suspect it is. Alana ramblinwitham
Denial is very normal, and we’re lucky that it wasn’t mom who was in denial. That’s a much more difficult journey.
I liked the questions and the answers. At least you had some space for yourself during the day.