—Cheri
Hi Lisa,
I have just found your blog about you and your mom, and it really hit home. My mum was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s three years ago. I live in England and she lives in Northern Ireland, which means we have a plane journey between us. Your blog is amazing, and it feels comforting to recognize similar traits in our mums. Anyway, please keep blogging!
Kind regards,
Sara
June 22, 2011
Trading Places, or
Is Alzheimer’s Catching?
Iseemed to switch places with my mom today. I became her, and she became me. This morning she tried to help me find the mascara that I had misplaced. While on the phone with her, I was getting ready to put my eye makeup on. I can easily do that while I have her on the speaker phone. I began to move about, which is what I do from time to time. While speaking to her, I realized that I could not find my mascara. As we continued to talk, I kept opening and closing the draws in my bathroom vanity, hoping that my makeup would reappear. I started getting upset when my mom said, “So you’ll go buy new ones.” I answer, “That’s not the point. I always keep them in the same place, so where can they be?”
Mom told me to check my handbag by removing everything from it. After emptying my bag, I still could not find my makeup. She then told me to retrace every place where I have been. I looked in my handbag again and even the kitchen garbage. How could I have accidently thrown out my mascara? My mother Ruthie told me next to look in the clothes I wore yesterday, along with my robe, which I had already done. She wanted to know how much it would cost to replace the makeup. “Maybe thirty dollars,” I said, “but Mom, that’s not the point. How can they just disappear?” She then told me not to worry and reassured me that they will reappear. I started to laugh.
Did I become her or did she become me? Did we just trade places? I did not enjoy the feeling of being confused. I could not understand what had happened to my makeup that each day is always in the same place.
I’ve been with Mom when she goes through similar episodes and looks in her handbag for her four pairs of glasses. She seems to wander back and forth trying to find what she has misplaced. I feel lots of compassion for her as she keeps looking, not understanding what she did with them. While I understand what I am doing, I cannot help feeling confused and frustrated. How could I have lost my makeup? Where could it be? What was happening to me? Could I also be in the early stages of Alzheimer’s? I certainly hope not.
After I hung up, I found my makeup, which was lying on the floor behind my toilet. Why didn’t I think of looking there, before I went through garbage cans and had an anxiety attack? I called Mom back to tell her I found it. She wanted to know where, and we both began to giggle. I told her that I felt like her for a moment, and she replied, “Why? I have a good memory and I don’t lose things.” Sure, Mom, whatever you say.
She was still looking for her watch that she couldn’t find for a year, only to later say that she never had one. We were like the blind leading the blind for a few minutes. My mom, my hero, stayed cool and calm as she suggested to me where I should look. It felt good that my mom, maybe for only a moment, could take care of me. This left me with a warm wonderful feeling, which I so badly needed to embrace.
COMMENTS
I loved this. Went through it with my own mom and it brought back some wonderful memories.
—Anonymous
I just happened upon this blog and post quite by accident, but I wanted to tell you what a gift it was to read this tonight. I’m only beginning to come to terms with my mom’s dementia. The grief and the fear is often too overwhelming for me to deal with the way I should, the way I want to, but I am trying hard to find my way back to my mom. I owe so much to her. I can’t abandon her now.
—Angela
Hi Lisa,
What a special treat it was for me to read your blog about your sweet mom.
Alzheimer’s disease and other dementia can be so cruel. My dear mom had dementia during the last year or so of her life. When Mom passed away, I moved into my parents’ home to care for my dad, who also suffered from dementia; he attended an adult daycare facility during the day so that I could continue working. I was his caregiver for three and a half years when cancer took his life in 1990. I later married a wonderful gentleman who now, at age seventy-two, is showing some signs of memory loss. His mother, at the time of her death, had a form of dementia, and we are both aware of a genetic connection, although Joel hasn’t been diagnosed yet. I am, at this moment, attempting to deal with feelings about caring for another loved one who may end up with this terrible condition. It is wonderful that you maintain a positive attitude during the times spent with Ruthie, both in person as well as on the
