Hallucinations

I have witnessed my mother's hallucinations over a period of time but they are increasing to the point of being alarming, sad, disconcerting and yet, absolutely hilarious.  Last night at around 1 AM she shouted out several "Hellos".  I ran into her room to see what was going on.  Evidently she was hosting a party in her room but when I walked in she wasn't clear who was in attendance.  A few days ago she began talking to someone who supposedly gave her something to taste.  She was chewing on the imaginary tidbit saying, "Mmm.  It's so sweet!"  Today she walked into the kitchen and began talking to someone who wasn't there but refused to tell me who it was.  (Does she have a secret pal?)

This evening, Mom walked to the back door, opened it and shouted out to the empty screened porch.  "There's a light on in the kitchen and no one is in there.  Someone should turn it off."  Then she stood at the door for a moment and repeated her message.  At this point I decided to ask her who she was talking to.
"Those people out there," she replied.
"What people?" I asked.
"Them," she told me pointing at an empty porch.  "That whole gang out there."
"Okay," I said.  "So you see a whole gang of people?"
"Yes, she insisted.
Now, to be clear, I lecture others about how we shouldn't correct those with dementia.  We should enter their world instead of trying to pull them into our world. Normally I do that too.  It is crazy and totally counter-intuitive for me.  My responsible and logical self wants to point out the errors in my mother's thinking and perception but  I overcome my strong desire to be the one in control and play along...usually.  Today, was not that day.  It was the end of the day.  I had spent the entire day dealing with stressful things.  My brother was in the hospital; a brother who also has Alzheimer's and who is living out of state without a family member to help with medical decisions.  I was also dealing with a few caregiver issues that arose from a couple of the caregiver support groups. I was trying to help or find help.  In addition, my Mother-in-law on the other side of the country was injured and in acute pain. Both my husband and I were in contact with his sister, his mother and trying to assist long distance.  I will avoid listing all of the other things that were of concern other than the approaching hurricane that was threatening our area and for which we were preparing just in case it changed course and blew this way.

So, to get back to Mom's hallucination; well, I guess I was not feeling mentally equipped to handle it as well as I should have.  Instead of telling her to invite everyone inside I asked her what the people to whom she spoke looked like.  She peered intently.  Then, shaking her head she replied that she couldn't describe them.  "There are too many people out there.  They just look like a group of people."
"Yes, but can you describe them?  Are they men? Are they women?  What color is their hair?"
"Oh, you know," she answered.  "I can't tell you everything."
"Well show me one person," I insisted.
She walked out and pointed to an empty chair.  "There," she told me.  "Right there.  See?  That woman right there."
"What color is that woman's hair?"
"Green."
I looked at the empty green chair.  "Touch her," I commanded. Mom obediently touched the chair.  "So are you touching a person?" I continued.
"Yes.  Of course I am."
"Grab her hand and hold it."
"I can't," she replied.  "She just got up."
Still I couldn't let it go.  "Show me someone else," I pushed on.
"There," she pointed.  "That man over there."
I shook my head and said, "Okay.  Well let's go inside now."  I resigned myself to the fact that Mom was not going to admit that there was no one there.   

It had been that kind of day.  Mom had begun the day angry because she was sitting and waiting for someone to come get her and without calling out to us, I simply went up to help her at the usual waking time.  I found her standing in the middle of her room, naked and trying to wrap herself in a blanket.  She was tripping over it and had it stuck under the wheels of her walker.  I asked her what she was doing and why she had taken her nightgown off.  She replied that she wanted to put her clothes on but someone had to help her and she was waiting for them to come.  I reminded her that I was that 'someone.' Getting her dressed was an ordeal because she couldn't perform even the most simple tasks and I had to assist with every single thing.  (It was a new low.)

All day long, Mom walked around and around aimlessly.  When I tried engaging her in conversation her aphasia wouldn't allow for discernible conversation or answers. But this...this massive hallucination was more than I could bare.  I felt myself shaking inside.  My stomach was knotted. I tried to calm myself, to count to ten, to do some deep breathing but Mom was pacing again and finally I asked her what she was doing.  She couldn't answer.  When she sat down in the place that I usually sit, I asked her why she was sitting there and she gave a muddled response that was unintelligible.  She glared at me when I tried to provide some assistance.  Something was bothering her but she couldn't express herself.  There were two more incidents that required answers she couldn't provide.  Once more she was on the move and I asked where she was going.  She grew angry and petulant.
"I'm going to bed!" she scowled angrily.
"You can't.  It's not time."
"Well I want to," she yelled at me.  (I had pushed her over the edge.)
"Why?"
"Because I am tired of you asking me questions!"  (Hmmm...even though she had dementia and aphasia she managed to express how angry she was.  Yup!  I got the message loud and clear.)
Now it was my turn.  I'm not proud of these moments, but I lost my temper.  I told her, "Okay, go to bed...because I don't want to see your snarky expression anymore."  I stormed over to the door to open it to her room. I took her upstairs. I decided that I would get one more 'dig' in.  "Can I help you with your nightgown or is that a question you don't want to answer either?"  Suddenly I was the injured child.  My mother became the mature one. with a kind tone she replied, "I didn't mean that you couldn't ask me questions...I wasn't really mad at you. I'm just mad at the situation," she told me with a lucidity that I hadn't heard in over two years.  I was amazed.  It was like a slap in the face.  It calmed me right down and now I was apologizing to her.  I explained myself telling her that I loved her and as her daughter who cared for her I sometimes might push a little too hard.  I felt terrible.  Reminding myself that I shouldn't lose my temper, that I was dealing with someone who couldn't help herself, I had to allow for my mother's temper just as I might do with a small child who found that the only means of expressing frustration was through an emotional outburst.  I told Mom that it was okay for her to get angry once in a while.  "Neither of us is perfect," I reminded her with a smile and a wink.
Mom smiled back and nodded.  "I'm sorry," she told me with eyes filling with tears.  "Sometimes when when you ask me questions I get confused.  It's upsetting."
"I know," I told her consolingly.
My heart was full. I was so very sorry I had been angry.  How could I have lost my temper?  I berated myself.  My eyes also filled with tears as I gave her a hug.  "I love you Mom."  I turned and walked away before she could see me crying.  I stood at the door and shed my guilty tears but then slowly remembered my own words I had just spoken to her.  "Neither of us is perfect."  I could forgive myself for my lapse.  It was alright.  I walked back to her bed, straightened the covers and pulled the sheet up under her chin.  "Goodnight.  Sweet dreams," I told her softly.  She was already rolling over to fall asleep smiling sweetly.
"Thank you," she mumbled back in a sleepy voice.
I turned off the light and walked away grateful that the day ended on a good note.  There was no real resolution. However, there was solace in knowing that beneath the high emotion there was still a profound love.  The love that we shared was sometimes battered, sometimes abused, and even sometimes ignored, but still there, still in tact.

It is a strong reminder that the memories might be gone, the mind might be failing, but as long as there is a breath to breathe my mother will always know deep down inside that she is loved.  Love speaks to the part of her protected by some unseen force.  Her being...her soul will always be the part of her that time and the ravages of Alzheimer's will never touch.  That is what I speak to...it's what I will fiercely protect, treasure, and address when my words have lost all meaning, when her awareness is gone, and when her thoughts have dried up.  When her own words fail and the smile fades, she will still know I love her.