Sunday, April 8, 2012
LIKE A MIRACLE
LIKE A MIRACLE
I have heard that Alzheimer's can come and go. Actually it never really disappears yet there can be moments and even a day where speaking to my mom, she almost seems not to have any form of dementia. Okay maybe I am exaggerating a little, although when these moments come it feels like a miracle.
My brother recently told me a cute story about my mom's conversation with a visiting nurse. The nurse was trying to see if my mom needed any other care. My brother and Trudy her caregiver, were with her when the nurse arrived. She asked my mother many questions, ones that mom could not answer correctly. Then the nurse asked mom if she knew what month it was. My mom answered "July". The nurse said" no it's April". My feisty mom responded, "if you know what month it is then why ask me"? As my brother shared this with me, we both laughed and I smiled with pleasure, a pleasure, that mom was still there.
Yesterday when I spoke to my mom her dementia seemed to be gone. I started the conversation by telling her that Logan would be staying at my house for a week while studying for a test. I explained that he had three roommate's, and after working all day it was hard to study in his apartment. Not only did my mom listen, she also was able to make comments about him and ask me questions. Being in the moment, my mom spoke about Logan, her one and only grandchild. She reminisced how smart and sweet he is. Could this really be miracle ? You see my mom on most days cannot follow a conversation, and does not remember her grandsons name.
From far away each day as I speak to my mom I try to stimulate her mind,by the use of words, questions and of course spelling and singing. There are times she rushes me off the phone by saying "I'm going to hang up now". "Mom I just called, and mom says anyway, "I'm going to say goodbye". "That's okay mom just before you hang up, you need to throw me my kisses". And once again that is how our phone calls end. I catch her kisses, as when I was a young child, and safely place them in my pocket.
I am able to enjoy all the words my mom still can say. I do not question the other parts. What would be the sense? It would only upset me, so I choose to appreciate and savor, what I still can call these special moments. Are they miracles? Or perhaps magic? To me, it does not really matter.