In the past 10 days we have taken 18 big black bags of trash out of this house and surrounding areas To be fair that includes every pillow and blanket that my mother ever owned in her entire life, at least it seems that way (and, yes, we donated what we could). Those take up a lot of trash bags. We have dragged 2 recliners, 1 couch, 1 love seat, 2 mattresses and 1 box spring to the curb to be hauled away. I have had 2 yard sales and taken the remains to Goodwill (another 8 bags of stuff). The scrubbing, the yanking, the lifting, the LAUNDRY! Oh the laundry I've done. I washed everything that was going into the yard sale and everything that went to Goodwill, plus our own everyday laundry. And with all of that do you know what hurts the most? My hands. They are dry, cracked and just ache. I need to buy stock in Jergens.
PLEASE for the sake of your children, don't have umpteen collections of piggy banks, thimbles, boxes (Oh my, the boxes... wooden, plastic, card board, pottery, broken, missing parts, big, little, pretty, ugly, etc.), toys (including bags and bags of Happy Meal toys), copper, coffee mugs, books, etc. And for the love of sanity do NOT keep things that you "might need some day"!
We're on a roll now, I tell ya! On a ROLL!!
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
Layers of destruction...
Slowly, ever so slowly, I have been making my way through Mom's room and other stash worthy areas. Each day I seem to be reminded of the toll that Alzheimer's has on a person's life, not just social and health tolls, but the things that we find comfort in caring for while they are in our trust.
Now, Mom was never considered a great housekeeper, not even a good one. If we came home and the house was neater than usual our first question was, "Who's coming over?" She never seemed to care that most of our furniture were cast offs from friends and family. None of that was important. There were a few things though that she cherished and treated well. Her bedroom set fell into that category. My parents bought that set long before I was born and Mom loved it. I learned how to care for wood furniture through her and those pieces. Heaven help the child who set a cup or a plate on that furniture. She had thick protective glass pieces on the tops of each one.
Which makes the finally digging through the piles of stuff of the last 10 years of hoarding to the furniture beneath all the more heartbreaking. This "is" her vanity.
While I was never a fan of the style, it was still a beautiful piece of furniture. The high boy and night stand that remain of the set are in slightly better condition. She would be crushed to see what she did while under control of the disease.
To me, this represents all that Alzheimer's has done to my family over the course of its destruction. It took a family and destroyed layers to the point that they can't be fixed. While other parts are damaged but salvageable, standing tall and strong. Unlike this vanity, my family and I have the gifts of hope, forgiveness and love. I believe we will be just fine. The furniture? Not so much.
Now, Mom was never considered a great housekeeper, not even a good one. If we came home and the house was neater than usual our first question was, "Who's coming over?" She never seemed to care that most of our furniture were cast offs from friends and family. None of that was important. There were a few things though that she cherished and treated well. Her bedroom set fell into that category. My parents bought that set long before I was born and Mom loved it. I learned how to care for wood furniture through her and those pieces. Heaven help the child who set a cup or a plate on that furniture. She had thick protective glass pieces on the tops of each one.
Which makes the finally digging through the piles of stuff of the last 10 years of hoarding to the furniture beneath all the more heartbreaking. This "is" her vanity.
While I was never a fan of the style, it was still a beautiful piece of furniture. The high boy and night stand that remain of the set are in slightly better condition. She would be crushed to see what she did while under control of the disease.
To me, this represents all that Alzheimer's has done to my family over the course of its destruction. It took a family and destroyed layers to the point that they can't be fixed. While other parts are damaged but salvageable, standing tall and strong. Unlike this vanity, my family and I have the gifts of hope, forgiveness and love. I believe we will be just fine. The furniture? Not so much.
Monday, October 19, 2015
I am getting there...
Our journey through Alzheimer's is over. The ramifications of the experience will last for years.
Here's one that I'm working through:
Mom became so agitated with the slightest activities around the house that I let a lot of things go in the last 2 years of Mom's illness. We rarely cooked. We did little cleaning besides what was absolutely necessary for health reasons. We didn't decorate for holidays. If something broke, we found a way to make it work with minimal disruption to Mom. Needless to say, the house is a mess.
It was only 6 months ago that I chose to place Mom in a facility that could care for her better than I could. I thought, "Wow! I can do things again. I can finally get the house put back together." Unfortunately, these energetic thoughts were followed with an unbelievable sense of hopelessness and apathy. I just didn't care. I don't know if I believed that she was going to be sent home again (it entered my mind) or whether I just needed the time to lick my wounds and heal a bit.
Whatever the reason, since Mom's passing, I have been filled with a sense of urgency and energy to get things done. I need to get up and move. I need to clean, fix, and purge. I need to work. And I have been. The house is still torn up, it always looks worse before it can look better. But, I am getting there.
As I said, I will be working through the repercussions of this journey for a long time. It feels good to take a first step back to my life.
Here's one that I'm working through:
Mom became so agitated with the slightest activities around the house that I let a lot of things go in the last 2 years of Mom's illness. We rarely cooked. We did little cleaning besides what was absolutely necessary for health reasons. We didn't decorate for holidays. If something broke, we found a way to make it work with minimal disruption to Mom. Needless to say, the house is a mess.
It was only 6 months ago that I chose to place Mom in a facility that could care for her better than I could. I thought, "Wow! I can do things again. I can finally get the house put back together." Unfortunately, these energetic thoughts were followed with an unbelievable sense of hopelessness and apathy. I just didn't care. I don't know if I believed that she was going to be sent home again (it entered my mind) or whether I just needed the time to lick my wounds and heal a bit.
Whatever the reason, since Mom's passing, I have been filled with a sense of urgency and energy to get things done. I need to get up and move. I need to clean, fix, and purge. I need to work. And I have been. The house is still torn up, it always looks worse before it can look better. But, I am getting there.
As I said, I will be working through the repercussions of this journey for a long time. It feels good to take a first step back to my life.
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
No tears...
It didn't end the way I imagined.
The first call from hospice letting me know that Mom's condition was deteriorating rapidly hit me hard. I think part of my brain actually considered her "outliving us all". Unrealistic, I know. But, it was something that we said, and probably believed, during the stressful times. Physically, she was strong and healthy for a woman in her 80s. The Alzheimer's had progressed slowly. So very slowly. There was no reason to think it wouldn't continue in the same way. I knew that she would be there on my next visit, yelling that she was hungry.
But, she's gone. She's been gone almost two weeks. I am actually happy that she is gone. I am finding that most people are shocked by that. I shed many tears for my mother over the years. I grieved for her each day that I was forced to watch her slow and cruel death. My children and I said our goodbyes to her many years ago. She was spared the final suffering that many Alzheimer's victims are forced to endure.
So, no, I have no tears for my mother's passing. I do have a sense of relief and an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for her final and glorious peace. I know where she is and, more importantly, she does, too. She is whole.
Alzheimer's did not win.
Eternal peace did.
The first call from hospice letting me know that Mom's condition was deteriorating rapidly hit me hard. I think part of my brain actually considered her "outliving us all". Unrealistic, I know. But, it was something that we said, and probably believed, during the stressful times. Physically, she was strong and healthy for a woman in her 80s. The Alzheimer's had progressed slowly. So very slowly. There was no reason to think it wouldn't continue in the same way. I knew that she would be there on my next visit, yelling that she was hungry.
But, she's gone. She's been gone almost two weeks. I am actually happy that she is gone. I am finding that most people are shocked by that. I shed many tears for my mother over the years. I grieved for her each day that I was forced to watch her slow and cruel death. My children and I said our goodbyes to her many years ago. She was spared the final suffering that many Alzheimer's victims are forced to endure.
So, no, I have no tears for my mother's passing. I do have a sense of relief and an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for her final and glorious peace. I know where she is and, more importantly, she does, too. She is whole.
Alzheimer's did not win.
Eternal peace did.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Soon...
For so very long things have moved so very slowly. Mom's journey seemed to take forever. I saw the early signs almost 15 years ago. Now it is all just moving so unexpectedly fast. Hospice called yesterday to prepare us for what is coming. After all of these years you'd think that I would be ready.
I'm not. It hit me hard. I'm getting through this horrible waiting by remembering what I have spent countless hours praying and wishing for: Her peace. I am mentally happy that she is about to go home to a peace that we cannot comprehend. But, it's my mom and I am going miss her and feel a huge whole with her passing.
Surprisingly, this grief that I feel is almost comforting. I thought I would feel little but relief that my obligations are through. It's wonderful to know that some compassion remains that was not stolen by the cowardly thief that is Alzheimer's.
I'm not. It hit me hard. I'm getting through this horrible waiting by remembering what I have spent countless hours praying and wishing for: Her peace. I am mentally happy that she is about to go home to a peace that we cannot comprehend. But, it's my mom and I am going miss her and feel a huge whole with her passing.
Surprisingly, this grief that I feel is almost comforting. I thought I would feel little but relief that my obligations are through. It's wonderful to know that some compassion remains that was not stolen by the cowardly thief that is Alzheimer's.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
I thought I was ready...
No matter how much you've prepared, how much you think you're ready, sometimes it just sneaks up on you and whacks you upside the head. It's a hard whack, too!
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
You can pretend you did not see me...
It's been a long time since I've been here. I've thought about stopping by but wasn't sure what to say. It feels a little bit like running into an old friend at the grocery store. You wonder whether to speak or just pretend you didn't notice her. You were good friends so you decide to go ahead and say something and then instantly regret it. Too much time has passed. You both talk about the kids, the weather, anything that isn't too personal. You agree to catch up soon, knowing you won't do it.
This blog was the best of friends to me. It listened, without judgement, no matter what I said or when I said it. It was always here. But, it was about my journey through Alzheimer's. And, that journey took a detour that isn't as all-consuming as it once was. Mom is still in the nursing facility, still under hospice care. I had a meeting last week with the hospice personnel and her nursing staff. It was more of an update on her condition (same) and trying to find something that will comfort her. I wish I knew the answer to that question. I've wondered that for most of my life.
So, here I am trying to share the journey. But, now it is just about me. It all seems too personal. This blog, like the friend in the grocery store, just feels awkward. I should stop by and catch you all up to date. But, I think next time I might just pass by without stopping. Or maybe I'll ask you about the weather.
This blog was the best of friends to me. It listened, without judgement, no matter what I said or when I said it. It was always here. But, it was about my journey through Alzheimer's. And, that journey took a detour that isn't as all-consuming as it once was. Mom is still in the nursing facility, still under hospice care. I had a meeting last week with the hospice personnel and her nursing staff. It was more of an update on her condition (same) and trying to find something that will comfort her. I wish I knew the answer to that question. I've wondered that for most of my life.
So, here I am trying to share the journey. But, now it is just about me. It all seems too personal. This blog, like the friend in the grocery store, just feels awkward. I should stop by and catch you all up to date. But, I think next time I might just pass by without stopping. Or maybe I'll ask you about the weather.
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