Adjustments

She calls to me waiting patiently for me to come upstairs to her room to help her dress.  She has given up the freedom to make personal choices of what to wear.  It happened when she began mixing different colors and prints.  My own fashion sense could not tolerate this.  I justify my actions by telling myself that she will wear the same clothes every day if I don't step in.  It is not unhygienic .  I want her to look good.  I want to preserve the woman who I used to know.  "Besides." I tell myself, "When she lived independently in her retirement community, I used to get calls from the director there to advise me that my mother was wearing the same clothes day in and day out.  It was not acceptable in that community.  She was being chastised.  People were talking about it.  My mother had become 'That old lady with the stained clothes.'  I would not have that!  I hurt for her."  At the time, we made the decision to hire a care giver to come in to help her dress each morning.  Now that she lives with us, I am that person.  I help her dress.  

I am reminded of the myriad books, articles, classes, sessions that discuss the elderly.  They tell me to allow for choices, for what the parent or loved one wants.  Still, I remain inflexible, demanding that my mother comply with my rules, my choices, my expectations.  "Do this...Don't do that...this isn't safe...this is dirty...this is bad for you...this is good for you...let's go...let's not go."  I decide.  I control.  I know best.  I perform my duties efficiently, with quick words and motions.  I spare no extras. I am too busy, too stressed, too annoyed by interruptions.

I am sliding downhill.  I feel the apathy, the doldrums of repetitive behavior.  No matter what I understand, what I hear, what I know, I do not seem to be able to pull myself out of this state.  I want to be a better Care giver. I want to be a good daughter.  I want to create good quality time for the  time that my mother has left on Earth.  I berate myself for not doing this.  I excuse myself.  Sure, sure.  We all get into a rut.  Our behaviors, responses, and interactions with our care receivers become automatic, more efficient, less thoughtful after repeating them day in and day out.  It is a common human failing particularly when we are busy and distracted.  I noticed with my mother, as she slows, communicates less, and forgets more, I interact with her less and less.  I give her a plate of food without saying anything beyond, "Your dinner is ready."  I turn and prepare my meal and sometimes take it to the family room to continue working on my lap top.  She eats alone, in silence.

It has been weeks of monotony.  I am struggling to find a spark that lights my motivation to change things; but I am busy, I am stressed with work, with schedules, with life.  Then suddenly it happens.  I hear a comment from someone who is also caring for her mother.  She says that she has a rule that no matter how many times her mother repeats herself or asks the same question, she and her husband answer like it is the first time.  Ah!  This is something to which I can relate.  I am a rule follower.  I like rules.  I too, can make rules.  Suddenly I am back!  I have purpose.  I am enthusiastic.  I create a personal rule book.  If Mom does this, I do that.  If Mom says this, I respond with that.  My mental rule book fills with actions and behaviors, counteractions and counter behaviors.  Suddenly I am patient, conversant, focused and dedicated.  

I am amazed that such a simple comment from a stranger has given me incentive to do it better, to be better, to enjoy better.  

Mom and I are sitting in the family room watching the Olympics together.  She is silent as I work and look up occasionally to see something.  There is an equestrian event being broadcast.  The horses are jumping in a steeplechase event and my mother seems to be watching with interest.  Of course she is silent but I see that she is engaged.  I remark that the horse is beautiful and she turns to me with an enthusiastic smile. 

"If I were there, I would kiss that horse on the nose!" She tells me.

"Do you like horses?" I ask.

"Oh yes.  When I was a little girl my father had horses and one of them was named Baby.  He would let me feed Baby a sugar cube.  Baby would take it gently from my palm.  He had such a soft upper lip."  I ask her more questions about Baby and suddenly she is reminiscing, telling me all about her father, their home, the horses, her life.  It is a wonderful moment that we share.  A few moments later, she repeats herself and tells me all of the same things again.  I smile to myself quoting rule #2 in my imagined rule book.  "Take in the information like it is brand new.  I am hearing it for the first time.  React with interest, with enthusiasm, with comments," I counsel.  A few minutes later she repeats the same words and stories once again.  Three more times...I continue to respond as if it is the first time I have heard it.  I am thrilled with the results.  It is pleasant.  I am smiling, Mom is smiling.  I get up and walk away to do something and feel like a heavy weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.  There is no frustration, anger, impatience.  I am okay with the fact that Mom has repeated herself.  What difference does it make?  I remind myself that children repeat themselves.  Children ask the same question over and over.  We do not harbor grievances for having to answer over and over, so why should we with the elderly?  

I do not know how long this will last -- my newfound patience.  I will take one day at a time.  Again, I remind myself that I am imperfect and do not set up unreal expectations.  I make a silent agreement with myself that I will do my very best.  That is all that I can do.  I have just given myself permission to make mistakes.  Immediately, I feel my shoulders relax.  It is as though the Creator has whispered in my ear telling me that it is okay.  I take a deep breath and go fix lunch for my mother and for me. Today we will dine together and I will talk about the butterflies we see out the window, the pretty sky, the tasty food, or whatever else might come to mind.  We will repeat ourselves and I will not care.  I will do so because this is what I can do today to make my mother's day the very best that it can be.