I thought I'd get more writing done this week, but it didn't happen. Some writing, and sometimes lots of it, but too many days there was nothing. Mom is here this week and while she isn't more work, I seem to get uptight anyway. It's the Alzeimer's Disease, although, there hasn't been a lot of change from last month when she was here for a week. One week out of each month doesn't seem like much, but it feels as if it drags.
The last few months or so she's had this mantra. That's what I call it. She repeats over and over praying to God for one of her kids to come get her. Hurt more when it first started, not as much now, and I know it's the memory loss, and I'm not sure she realizes she says it either.
Sometimes she knows who I am and sometimes she doesn't. Too often anymore she thinks this is some kind of "home" that people come to and I take care of them. Sometimes she thinks she's only here for the day and someone always picks her up before it gets too late and night descends. There isn't much she enjoys doing anymore. A little crocheting, but nothing like she used to. Television just has no attraction for her no matter what I turn it to, so I don't bother to turn it on unless I want to watch something. She is still fairly addicted to her crossword puzzles, but there are times she seems to get tired of those too.
It's a sad, sad disease. She's told me things she's done that I know didn't happen, but it's best to let her think it did. She'll talk about "her husband" as if he wasn't my dad, which tells me at that moment in time she doesn't know who I am. Her quality of life has lost so much and there's nothing to be done to change that. It's more like she just exists, and not much else.
I miss the talks we used to have. Now you can't keep her attention long enough, so we don't talk like we used to. I have the memories of all our talks; she doesn't. So, I hold those memories because that's pretty much all I have left of my mother.
So, the tension I feel keeps me from writing as much as I'd like to this week. Not to mention it makes me tired. Ah, well, there is next week and the week after that, and. . .
Until next month.
