COMMENTS
Hi, my name is Joanne, and I live in Canada. I found your blog recently, and I feel a connection with you. My mom has Alzheimer’s, has been diagnosed for six years, and is only seventy-seven. She is in a nursing home an hour from me. I am finding it so hard, and I know that you understand. Thanks for sharing your heart, your emotions, and your humor. I am going to visit my mom today. I cherish every visit and hope against hope that she knows me today.
—Joan
A very touching post.
—Cara
Thank you for your positive comments. I too need to focus on the good things each day and cherish the memories. Congratulations on your efforts to maintain normality
—Auggie
Just found your blog through the Walk to End Alzheimer’s Facebook page, and I cried as I read this today. My mom passed away seven years ago yesterday, after eight years with early onset Alzheimer’s. Your stories of times with your dear mom touch my heart in a way I can’t explain. You will be in my prayers as you continue this journey with your sweet mom.
—Henrietta
I am really lucky that so far this has not affected our family. My grandparents are now both ninety, and I have to say there are little flickers that my grandad is starting to forget things more and more. However, who wouldn’t at ninety? Really heart-wrenching insight into living with this cruel illness.
—Anonymous
Great heart-wrenching read. My nan has had Alzheimer’s for at least ten years now, and it’s pretty tough to watch them drift further away while being totally powerless to do anything. But you have to try and take it your stride. Birthdays can be tough on her, as she’s not sure what’s happening (plus refuses to be told she’s ninety), and there’s a fair few people about, but you’ll get the odd time when her face lights up and she’s remembered/clicked with something. That makes it all worthwhile.
—Anonymous
August 18, 2012
Glimmers of a Rainbow
Sometimes when dark clouds start to clear, the sky opens up to glimmers of a rainbow. This is how my mom’s week ended, after the antibiotic she has been on started to work. Mom appeared listless in the beginning of the week, only wanting to sleep her days away. That was before we were aware that she had a urinary tract infection.
Not anymore. The sounds of her laughter and joy could certainly fill the size of a ballroom. Mom was reciting to me a rhyme that she recently made up. “Mister, mister, where did you meet your sister?” She repeated it over and over again, with much expression and humor in her voice. Each time that she sang her new rhyme—“Mister, Mister, where did you meet your sister?”—we would both giggle, as she rejoiced with her newfound verses. Even her caregiver Trudy was laughing hysterically.
Just hearing the sound of her joy and happiness delighted me, sending thrills up and down my spine. She sounded so alive, as if she were having an adrenaline rush or maybe about to run a marathon race. Either way the excitement that she showed brought a needed smile to my face and lightness to my heart. The prior week, I knew that my mom was having a rather hard time.
Alzheimer’s is such a strange disease and one that I do not truly understand. One day my mom can be lethargic, and the next day she can be dancing the night away. I never know how long these moments of aliveness can last. Nor do I want to know. I just try to go with the flow of Mom’s ups and downs.
I wish that every day would be an up day for her. This I know is not possible. I find it hard to even imagine how in some ways she is so alive, yet in other ways there is not much that exists in her life.
Mom will be eighty-eight years old at the end of this week. Except for having Alzheimer’s and macular degeneration, she is in rather good health. She never seems to complain about anything, and on her good days there is always joy and laughter that resonates from her being. The only thing that she will say to me is that she cannot remember much of anything.
Actually mom remembers very little of anything. For me the most important thing is that she still remembers me. I know that this is a gift to be cherished, a gift that may one day be taken away. Yet today I choose to remain happy. It’s almost like when I see the glimmers of rainbows forming in the sky. I see all the beauty and do not remember the storm that just passed by.
COMMENTS
Lisa,
I was one of those daughters who came to that point when my mom did not know who I was and would inquire, “Where is Serena?” Even twenty-five years later, it still causes a tear to fall and a heart to ache, but I knew her. She was very young, sixty-six when she passed. Dad had gone on the year before at sixty. They married not ever inquiring as to the age of either of them and only meeting once before the ceremony. Theirs was a war romance of letters and poetry during WWII. But they lived, loved, and enjoyed life and each other. My brother also passed at sixty-one,
