caregiving

For the last four years, much of my life has been centered on my mom's health. She took a quick plunge into the world of dementia and is now in an assisted living facility, where she needs to be. It's been an exhausting and eye-opening experience, but one filled with laughter and love.

I took a creative writing class and the last thing I wanted to write about was my caregiving experience. But those ideas were all that came to me. It was what consumed my life and as I wrote, it helped me to put some things into perspective. And to laugh.

There is nothing funny about dementia or a brain tumor or any disease that dramatically reduces the quality of one’s life.

Except sometimes, there is. And as a caregiver I am slowly realizing although the sickness is not a laughing matter, laughing at the silly situations it puts me in is healthy. 

My mom has a tumor the size of a pea imbedded deep in her brain and it affects her cognitive and physical abilities. Even though her once beautiful handwriting looks like  chicken scratchings and her short term memory is fleeting, that does not stop her from being a list maker extraordinaire. 

On a recent visit to her 12 x 12 assisted living room, she hands me a lengthy list with instructions that she needs these items right away. It was 8:00 p.m. “I don’t expect you to run out this evening to get these things. Tomorrow will be fine.”

The next morning, list in hand, I head out to Walgreen’s. Olay Day and Night creams, check. Toothpaste, check. Bath soap (not face soap), check. Shampoo, check. Kleenex, check. Depends...oh, God, here we go. Put the sunglasses on. Look over my shoulder to see if there is anyone I know in the store. I feel like a teenage girl walking down the feminine hygiene aisle praying that no one sees me buy these things. Just what I need is to be the gossip going around Kettering: “Do you know that Diane H. wears Depends?” 

Hail Mary, full of grace...

I’m on my third Hail Mary as I get to the check out line. One person in front of me, no one behind me. And it stays that way. Thank you, thank you.

Next stop, Dorothy Lane Market. Lemon cookies and maple cookies, check. Pretzels, check. Grapes, check. Prunes...oh, God. The conversation we had last night.

Mom wrote down that she needed prunes...3 times. 

“Mom, prunes are on your list 3 times. Do you want that many?”

Her steely blue eyes stare me down and she matter-of-factly states, “ I eat 3 prunes everyday. I go through them quickly and I do not want to run out of them.”

She’s mad that I questioned the list. To lighten up the situation, I try to tap into my witty brother’s humor. What would Mike say? He always makes Mom laugh. I giggle, “Geez, Mom, that’s a shitload of prunes!” 

The steely blue eyes get even steelier as she gives me the you-need-your-mouth-washed-out-with-soap look. 

Note to self: Don’t give Mom crap about regularity. It’s serious business.

I stroll to the check out line, feeling a little more relaxed from the Walgreen’s experience: No dark glasses, no checking over my shoulder. The line is short, no familiar faces...until I look at the cashier. She’s a former student, probably now around 19 years old, and I have 3 bags of prunes in my cart. 

“Hi, Julia! How are you? How’s school? How’s your sister doing?” Blah, blah, blah. I keep the chitchat going as she scans the 1...2...3 bags of prunes. 

Is she smiling as each one passes over the scanner? I just know that when she goes on break, she’ll whip that smart phone out of her pocket and post on Facebook, Twitter and any other social media that gets her message out there, “O.M.G. Mrs. H was in my line at DLM and she bought 3 bags of prunes! lololololol!!!!!” 

I can only imagine the comments on that post. The 8th grade Spanish teacher will be the butt of many mierda jokes...

Oh well, I did my duty and there’s no time to waste on these regular errands. 

The dependable child waits for the next list.