My mother was admitted to the nursing home three years ago after spending a year in and out of the hospital. She is in fairly good health this year in spite of advancing dementia. At 92, she goes to activities, enjoys the music programs, has made a few friends, and is well cared for in spite of daily complaints. Now that spring has arrived, we sit outside during my daily visits and enjoy the sunshine and the beauty of blossoming trees and flowers.
My husband and I spent two months in Arizona this year visiting my daughter and her newly adopted daughter. While we were there, my mother’s behavior radically changed, most likely to an untreated urinary tract infection. She never did like her roommate, delusions getting the best of their relationship, but one day she got upset with her and kicked her. The Department of Health was notified and laws required her to be removed from her room and put in a private room. She went to pieces. She believed I had abandoned her and she had done nothing wrong to deserve this. She was angry at everyone, especially me. I considered coming home, but a psychologist was called in and she worked with her to calm her down and reassure her that I was coming home, giving her a specific date. The staff at the nursing home had given me some poor advice. They recommended at first that I not tell her I was gong away and then I should not tell her how long I was going to be gone. That was bad advice. When I returned, she had settled into her room. I decorated it for her, she made friends with the woman across the hall, and she is now content.
This Mother’s Day I will bring her lunch since I can no longer safely take her out to eat. She needs only soft foods, so I will make her favorite potato salad and strawberry shortcake and sit outside with her for a while. I know I am lucky to still have a mother on this Mother’s Day, even though in some ways, she is not the mother I used to know. Times change as we age and maybe sadness is an emotion that just increases as years pass. I don’t know how many more years I will be able to spend with my mother on Mother’s Day. She is still strong and physically healthier than many of the other residents in the nursing home but not as strong mentally as many others. Words elude her and delusions continue. This Mother’s Day is also the date my father died. She won’t remember that and I won’t mention it. After I visit with her, I’ll go visit my father in the cemetery. I’ll tell him how well she is doing. I’ll tell him I feel lucky to still have her. I’ll tell him how much I miss him every day. I’ll put some roses on his grave, my parents’ favorite flowers, and say good-by once again.