Grumpy Grandma

Alzheimer's is an illness with many phases.  For some, it ends with the inability to talk or do much to move from one place to another.  I think of the familiar image of the old man or woman, stooped, shuffling, wearing a dazed expression, sitting or lying in bed, feeble and quiet.  There is another side to Alzheimer's...a much uglier side. There can be personality changes in some people that cause emotional outbursts, anger, and even aggressive behavior.  After 15 years of (diagnosed) Alzheimer's, I figured that my mother was not going to exhibit that side of Alzheimer's, that we would escape the emotional outbursts, that her placid and happy demeanor would be maintained.  Sadly, that too has changed.  As she argues with us over almost everything we say, I try to remind myself to be patient, to maintain a calm and supportive demeanor, to coax rather than criticize. Then, in a moment I ruin everything with an out-of-control statement.  Today it was her constant fidgeting with her buttons.  She buttons and unbuttons  over and over, hour after hour.  She has ruined and ripped every sweater she owns as she stretches the button holes so they no longer stay closed.  Today, when I explained (for the 100th time) why she should leave her sweater alone, she announced angrily that she didn't unbutton her sweater.

"Yes, Mom.  You did.  And now, you are rebuttoning the sweater, but it won't stay closed any more."
"You're wrong!" She told me.  "I didn't touch my sweater.  This is the first time!"
(I lost it.  I had to say something.  Why?  I told myself to be silent but the words welled up inside and popped out of my mouth.)  "Oh really," I said.  "I'm wrong? HRMPH.  You think you know better?  Well fine.  Go ahead and ruin another sweater!"
Mom scowled at me and said, "I know and you don't, so I'm just going to ignore you." (She's been doing that a lot lately...ignoring anything I tell her to do.)
I muttered something under my breath "Grumpy Grandma!"  It made me laugh and lightened my own mood.  I told myself that it was okay.  I could ignore her; but a moment later she was unbuttoning her sweater and pulling at the button holes again and I found my reaction even worse.  I needed to prove my point.  I picked up my camera and recorded a quick video to show her what she was doing.  When she looked at the screen she said, "That's not me!"
"Who is it, Mom?"
"Well how should I know!  That's some old woman with white hair!"
I tried to argue but decided instead to take a photo  to show her right away.  "Look Mom.  I am taking your picture right now.  See?" I snapped the shudder and showed her the photo.
Mom peered into the screen and shrugged.  Then she closed her eyes stubbornly.  There would be no more discussion.  I was arguing with a child and there was no point in trying to present a rational argument.  I stepped back and looked at the situation.  At least she wasn't throwing things at me, flailing about, or threatening to hurt me.  Not yet...     
I hope that it doesn't come to that.  I hope that these outbursts are to remain minimal and manageable.

The diminished understanding of all things breaks my heart as I stand by helplessly trying to explain things that cannot be explained.  Yesterday, Mom had gas cramps and sat crying that she was in pain.  "Somebody help me!" she pleaded. Skip and I did what we could but there wasn't much we could do. We tried to give her water but she told us she would throw up and refused to drink it.  I poured some Milk of Magnesia but she refused it as well. I explained that she needed to go to the bathroom but she yelled from there that she needed help.  She cried and pleaded again for me to do something.  She didn't remember or even understand the problem.  Finally, in desperation,we took her upstairs to her bedroom and helped her into her bed.  I hoped that she would fall asleep and the pain would subside.

It was dinner time and I wanted to feed her but she was still asleep.  I worried about it but decided that sleep would be better and hoped that she would not awaken too early.  Mom slept until 9:00AM the next morning which told me that her body needed that rest.  It's not that this is an interesting story or an important one.  It's just the day to day stuff that we deal with.  It's that reality of Alzheimer's; and sadly, the tragic truth of a miserable disease.  It's nothing to laugh about, and yet, I do...WE do.  Skip and I shake our heads, complain to each other, marvel at our patience (when we have it!) and congratulate ourselves for getting through one more day; each minute, each hour, each day, week and month. Then we see the absurdity in all of this.  It's as if we have fallen down the proverbial rabbit hole. We laugh about the craziness and how we handle or don't handle it.  What a lesson!  What a journey!  What a challenge!