Mom got me up before 6 tapping on the wall (there's a buzzer. She forgets to use it). When I got downstairs, she was sitting in the bathroom. She looked at me like she had no idea who I was. "Are there beds here?" What? "Do they have beds here? Bedrooms." Mom, you're at home. I could see the click as she reconnected with reality. "Well, I was someplace else before I was here." She was either dreaming or hallucinating. Usually her hallucinations are auditory. She's deaf, but she swears the radio is on and she can't turn it off or change the station. She still hears it even when we show her the plug out of the socket. But she doesn't usually dislocate from her surroundings.
I got her back to bed and tucked in. DH left this morning. You all have NO idea how much I wanted to just fling myself into the van and go with him.
My relatives all have instructions, should I ever reach her state, to lovingly, kindly, with all gentle regard, push me down the stairs. Repeatedly, if necessary.
Oddly, I seem to have stopped drinking almost completely.
Oh, Bev. {{{lovins}}} I can't even imagine what you are going through. Love you so much, sweetie.
Eh. We all deal with something like it, if our loved ones don't go too soon. I'm just feeling a little sorry for myself today.
And wondering if I ought not delete that post.
No, don't delete. We are your sounding board and Keepers of the Sane.
No, don't delete. We are your sounding board and Keepers of the Sane.
Seconded, with added hugs as needed.
Bev, much coping-ma.
That sounds an awful lot like what my Mom went through when my Dad sucummed to vascular dementia. The only saving grace was it was only about 6 months between him being reasonably himself and it being over (since the vascular kind has a much shorter onset-to-over span), but that's a terrible thing to have as a saving grace.
Bitches 35: Keepers of the Sane, Bringers of the Porn
{{Bev}}
(((Bev))). You're allowed to feel sorry for yourself every once in a while. Sometimes, it's easier for me to get over it and do what I need to do, if I indulge in a bit of self pity.
Some of my relatives have been trying to tell me that my grandmother's been getting mentally slower. On the one hand, I can see where the stuff she's doing looks like classic beginning stages of dementia, on the other she's one of us which means things like giving mouth to mouth to a fish, freeing all the bait crickets and worms, or vaccuming at 3 am so you "won't disturb anyone." (All things done by members of my family who no one suspects of losing their minds).
