The Good Old Days (My Mom’s Alzheimer’s)
I have recently made the acquaintance of a fellow traveler along this dark and difficult road. He is totally and admirably dedicated to his mother’s wellbeing.
He puts everything aside each time his mom calls, which is often.
I remember being in the midst of some crisis at work when my mother would call with seeming trivia. I remember trying to be patient, with crises awaiting my attention as I listened to her wandering thoughts and questions, feeling like the fiddler was playing a tune while Rome burned around me. Now I look back on those days with nostalgia and wished I had savored those interruptions instead of just enduring them. All of those times that seemed stressful then, now seem like the good old days.
The other day he called while picking up dinner for his mom but when he got to her house, he also prepared her a scrumptious looking meal, leaving her with more than enough leftovers.
I wonder if I lingered enough over meals or spent too much time being task oriented. I long to remember a mealtime conversation with my mom that showed off her wit and eternal optimism.
In his diligence he has noticed that his mom is increasingly unable to explain what took place at her doctor’s appointments. So now he attends them, advocating for her at every turn. I hope he will…
