Member-only story
Clothing Crisis (My Mom’s Alzheimer’s)
It has been one of those Saturday mornings when unseen forces drive you unrelentingly toward an unattainable perfection. It is two in the afternoon. I made all three meals for the day and served my mother the first two, swept the house, cleaned the counters and the floors. Three loads of laundry have been washed. The sheets and towels have been put away. My laundered clothes have been thrown on my bed to be folded later. I am proud of the fact that I have spent several hours in our storage unit and have retrieved Mom’s weather appropriate clothing. I have sorted them, handwashing some items. All that remains is to hang her delicate items to dry, then fold and put away the rest of my mother’s small load of clothes. My sprained ankle is throbbing. But fortunately, my mother loves folding clothes. She has been dubbed, “The Folder” in our family. As other skills have waned, we have highlighted my mother’s talent in folding, as a way to involve and complement her.
“Mom, the clothes you fold look like they have just come out of the package!” We often tell her. Now that she refuses almost all activity, folding clothes is one simple thing I know she will still enjoy.
I bring the handful of freshly laundered clothes into my mother’s room and announce triumphantly,
