AND THE WEEK'S NOT OVER YET . . .

What a busy week this has been, My baby bird, Twigs, decided he was ready to fly the coop and though he's still flying about in the trees on our property, his wild side has emerged and he no longer lands on my hand or requires me to feed him. He has survived two nights and three days outside with the other wild birds so I'm pretty sure he's going to be ok. 

If I hadn't been so busy tending to my mother's needs and worrying about Twigs this week, I would have made time to celebrate the 2nd birthdays of my three cat brothers - Bailey, Elliot, and Rusty. I hugged them as I wished them each a Happy Birthday and promised some there would be some treats in their near future. It seems a lifetime ago I found their six-month-old very pregnant mama on my front porch. It was  July 4th, 2010. On July 17th, Kelly delivered the five furry baby boys. I posted photos and videos of them here on my blog as they grew and I cherish the memories of my little furry gang. All five kittens were adopted at some point, but three came back to me....two came back twice. After eight months of taking them to the adoption agency every weekend, I decided to not put them (or myself) through that any longer and added them to my tribe. To this day I don't understand why all of them didn't find "forever homes" (with someone other than me), but perhaps I was meant to keep them. They were darling kittens and grew into beautiful adults cats. Now I can't imagine not having them in my life.

This was not a good week for my mother. She fell in her room at Lamplight and though she broke no bones, she badly bruised two fingers on her left hand and could not understand why they were black and blue since she had no recollection of falling. I've taken her to the wound specialist every week this month and had been taking her every other week for the last five months - along with visits to the dentist and the cardiologist. The doctor wraps her left leg every week, but she won't leave the bandages in place. Of course she claims she never removes them and has no idea who does it. I suppose the culprit is the same person who takes all of her clothes from her closet and drawers and piles them on the bed.....the same person who takes family photos off  her walls and dresser and wraps them in blankets and sheets.... and most likely it's the same person who gives away her possesions and the snacks we take her, then scatters her papers, books, and magazines all over the table and chairs. Yesterday, I posted reminders for my mother to not remove her bandages and today all the posters were gone - no doubt the work of that same elusive person who does all the other deeds. To say my mother is a handful would be a supreme understatement. A trip to her doctor is often  a full day's effort and I return home exhausted. She never recognizes having been at the Lamplight Inn so when we return it's a huge challenge to get her back inside the facility. Yesterday I was accused of plotting aganst her and trying to trick her. As always, she was shocked to see her  name on the door of a room and said she wasn't going to spend the night there. She fretted about how she was going to get to work tomorrow with that cast on her leg and asked if I'd call her workplace and make excuses for her. (Mom hasn't held a job for over 30 years.) She stated she didn't know how she was going to travel back home to live with her mother (who passed over 20 years ago) or how she'd be able to carry all her belongings onto the bus. (What bus?) This afternoon she called me and was sobbing and demanding to know what happened to her husband, my dad. We go through this over and over, about once a week, so again, I calmly but matter-of-factly, told her the truth, that he had suffered a heart attack at work one night 40 years ago and died. She exclaimed and sobbed even more, saying it couldn't possibly have happened 40 years ago, but she seemed relieved that I told her. Naturally she didn't remember I'd told her about him dozens of times since she'd been at Lamplight. A few weeks ago she was convinced my dad had taken her car and abandoned her to go to Florida with an old Army buddy, so I let her think that until she began calling my sisters and me all through the nights and roaming the halls at Lamplight, setting off alarms and trying to leave the facility. I suppose she intended to search for Dad. That's when I knew she needed to hear the truth, even if she'd never remember it.  

Today she asked, "If he died, then why didn't he just tell me?", and she had no idea how utterly strange that sounded. My biggest challenge (besides my mom) in dealing with her Alzheimer's, is that I'm often trying to find some logic in the situation even though I know it's impossible to understand things that makes no sense. I don't know what to tell her and what to ignore. I don't know when to be totally honest and when to evade the truth. I was taught to not tell lies, but there are times it has to be done to ensure her peace of mind. It depresses me to think this is going to become worse as time goes by. It's pretty bad right now, so what will I be dealing with in the future? I suppose it's actually a blessing my mother doesn't realize how much her strokes and Alzheimer's have taken from her. It's bad enough that I know it and have to find ways to deal with the situation.