Why Are You Looking At Me Like That?

I often walk around shaking my head at my mother's antics.  Alzheimer's is so unpredictable.  Mom's behavior fluctuates constantly leaving me to wonder what she will do next.  One moment she is squirreling away dirty napkins and half-eaten cookies in her walker and the next she is pacing around the kitchen looking for a snack.  When I feed her, she takes a bite on-the-run and immediately returns to her favorite spot outside on the screened porch.  Her daytime antics are manic and frustrating since she has no understanding of what she is doing.  Her communication is nil and when she does speak it is muddled and unintelligible.  Imagine our surprise, then when we hear her speaking full sentences in the middle of the night.

Last night we were awakened to the sound of my mother's voice admonishing someone.  "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.   Then, she continued, "What's Wrong?" (pause) "I want a glass of water."  Skip got out of bed and trudged upstairs to deliver the glass of water and found her standing in front of the bathroom mirror talking to her image. Mom wore a scowl on her face.  No doubt the sight of her image glaring back at her was offensive, causing her to scowl even more.  I was glad Skip managed to get her the water when he did or there might have been a fist fight between Mom and the mirror.  

Trying to protect Mom from herself has become a full-time job.  She is perpetual motion and often finds ways to put herself in harm's way either by trying to eat something that is not meant to be eaten, or to wobble precariously close to a table edge.  Today, she tried to go down the steps to the patio as I flew to stop her.  "NO!" I shouted.  "Stop!"  Then approaching her and closing the door firmly I admonished her.  "You don't go out there." I still had visions of the face plant she did when she escaped outdoors and down the step.

"I didn't do that," she replied.  (It's amazing how Mom can speak in full, understandable sentences when in the midst of proclaiming her innocence.)

"Mom, look...you opened the door," I told her pointing at the door.  

Again she denied it only this time she told me "Oh, THEY did that."  ('THEY' by the way, seem to be responsible for all things that are done for which my mother does not wish to take responsibility.)

To say that this is a trying time would be a colossal understatement.  I am equally torn between laughing at the bizarre woman who resides with us and feeling tremendous sadness over having lost the logical, organized and fastidious woman she once was.  From moment to moment I battle my demons who rail in anger against this huge inconvenience in my life, and the loving daughter who remembers the 80 plus years of joy she brought to all of us.  I want to reach out and hug her, hold her, feel her warmth, and then she does something that instantly pushes me away in disgust.  

I detach myself from the lesson that is delivered to me.  I recognize it and marvel at the clarity while fighting each new test that is delivered.  It is the lesson we sometimes never learn; a test we do not pass.  Will I succeed?  Today I have failed once again.  Perhaps tomorrow I will conquer my human failings.  I am a daughter.  I will tap into that love...that familial tie and allow the mother-daughter bond to supersede the impatience I feel.  I will try, once more to look for the humor.  It's there.  Oh yes it is!  She will undoubtedly blame that other person--'THEY' will do something that makes me cross, and when I admonish her or scold her she will offer to punch 'THEM'.  I expect to see her tussling with an unseen combatant hoping that she doesn't injure herself but all-the-while cheering her on as the victor!