A Break In The Storm

Yesterday was a beautiful day, according to our caregiver. She and mom went on a van trip, and mom actually ate in the dining room for three meals. I came in at the end of the day, and she was in great spirits. She was able to ask me questions and engage in conversation. She asked me if I was planning to stay over, and when I said no, but I was going to come back at 10am she said "That's what I thought".

One of the highlights of her day yesterday was watching part of Home Alone 2. She thought McCauley Culkin was really cute, and she told me her version of the plot about four times. It made her so happy that I asked several more times for her to tell me about the movie. Keep the seratonin pumping!

There were no tears when our caregiver left, and I'm sure that ended the week on the highest of notes. It did for me as well. We watched some Home & Garden, and then tennis, and when her nice PAL came to change her into her nightclothes, I said a cheery farewell.

My plan for today had been to bring her to our house and give her some jobs. We'll do a manicure and then organize her jewelry. Eat, see cats. I brought her to our house via the pretty drive, which she really liked, but she quickly turned weepy and sad. The whole Home Alone thing reminded me of how much she likes babies, so I found her some baby videos on Youtube. After a few minutes of giggling plump darling babies, she asked "Where ARE their PARENTS?!!" When I found her videos of babies and parents, she said "Aren't there any mothers?" Trying to explain that most of these baby videos were probably shot by female parents would have been lost on her, but I told her anyway. Any use of seconds that get me to the end of a sad day with my mom is worth it. So I showed her videos of mothers and babies, but by the disapproving look on her face I could tell she thought that those mothers were show-offs. Then she started crying again. Good times.

After lunch I gave her a manicure and we organized her jewelry boxes, and I did some of her laundry. "Have I turned into my mother?" she asked while we were going through her three jewelry boxes. Nothing would be worse, in her estimation. Her mother had fancy jewelry and left her alone a lot to play bridge with her fancy friends and didn't take her to have her eyes checked because she didn't want to be the mother of an eyeglass-wearing daughter. How much different is that from fat-shaming me when I was a young adult and chasing me around with tanning solution when I was a child, I ask? Appearances are everything.

In my adult life have always tried to prove to my mom that I am unconventional but also lovable -- that I can be myself and be worthy of love. Other people her age like me. Oh whatever.

3:15 was the witching hour, apparently. She worked herself into a state of madness. She wants to move away and I'm the impediment. I have her car and if she had it she could drive it "across the river" and get away. Did I mention that I had her over but she decided that it was only the two of us at lunch because everyone had rejected her? She was out of her flaming mind that mrguy had an overdub session downstairs and wasn't available to tend to her. I decided it was time to go, and she threw a tantrum. I had to summon mrguy to help extract her from the home. Here she is, lamenting her lot in life. I missed the real shot where she was dramatically leaning her head on the railing of the half wall. Poor lady.

Got her in the car, and the fun really started. It's insane how much can happen in a day with my mom. First she started praising mrguy. Then she started talking about how he had nothing until he got together with me. And about my great job with an important company. And how that company would be sad to know what a terrible person I was.

OK. She turned to me at dinner with her nice memory care folks and asked "Should I tell them the truth?" And I said "Go ahead. I do not care." Then she turned to them and told them "She's a liar." and then I removed her from the dining room to eat in her apartment. That was followed by about 4 more hours of her ragging on me about what a terrible person I am, and I used to be nice, and now I'm fat. Honestly -- I would be a normal-sized person if I had been raised by someone else, and I plan to slim down just to spite her when she dies. OMG. And threatening me -- she wants to tell my employer what a shitty person I am, and also my husband.

Goodness. I am the first person to tell almost anyone what a deficient human being I am. The first thing I did when I fell in love with mrguy was to tell him every bad thing I'd ever done so that if he was going to leave me he would. "Doesn't he see your bad qualities?" she asked. "Yes, he does and he doesn't care" I nearly forgot the episode where she --I AM NOT KIDDING YOU--  chased me around the apartment with her walker because I stopped the conversation where she was threatening me. You can't really argue with a person with Alzheimer's. It's not fair. But she seems to think that as long as she doesn't tell the other people the things that she's threatening me that she *will* tell them, it's ok.

I was living in my own personal Edward Albee play.

I snuck out after she got her jammies on (somewhere after she said her life was full of pain and misery), and was not eager to return. Got a call a few hours later. She fell. They were alerted by the fall technology. The RN found her on the floor smiling. All good.