Who Cares

A Respite

It’s been a while since my last post, mainly because I was away. Far. Far. Away. I journeyed to Alaska for work and a vacation. Once I returned home for two days, I went away again, although not as far away as Alaska is from North Carolina. Naturally, while I was away, I was very concerned about leaving my mom for almost two weeks. My partner joined me in Alaska, so her two primary caregivers wouldn’t be easily accessible. Months before I went on the trip, I informed my mom about the trip to Alaska, wrote it on her calendar, and as the time drew closer, I gave her daily reminders. I prayed that all would be well because no one else is here to help take care of her, and while she is in a “facility” as people like to call it, it’s an independent care facility. In my worst nightmare, which I try not to give too much credence to, she could be in her apartment for days without anyone suspecting anything was wrong—the downside of independence.

Even though I was a bit afraid to leave my mom, I went on the trip anyway. I had committed to work and take some time for myself in the great wilderness. Somehow, maybe by the grace of the Goddess and my ancestors, my mother didn’t experience any crises while we were away. I didn’t have to do wellness checks, which is what I had to do back in June when we went to the mountains in North Carolina. My mom took her phone off the hook, and I couldn’t get in touch with her for two days.

I didn’t have to call the nurses who do her wound care to ensure they were doing their jobs because they showed up to perform her wound care on schedule.

I didn’t have to leave a social activity myself to take my mom to the emergency room, or because an ambulance had transported her to the hospital. About two months ago, while at a friend’s house, I woke up to five calls from EMS and the news that my mother had been admitted to the hospital. I was an hour away at the time, and had foolishly put my phone on silent so I could sleep through the night without interruption—big mistake.

I didn’t have to encourage my mom to go to dinner or to engage in social activities because she went to dinner every evening, and she even stayed for a magic show one night. She told me she left when the magician was making animal balloons because she didn’t need a balloon.

My partner and I were able to go away, and, as far as we know, things didn’t fall apart while we were gone. It’s a miracle for sure. I don’t know how it happened, and don’t really need to understand it. For now, all I need to do is be grateful that my mom was okay while I was away and that my nervous system could downregulate a bit.

While I was away, and even when I returned home, I wondered what made this time different. Not much has changed in my mom’s external world. My mom still has Alzheimer’s and is hallucinating. She does have a better grasp of what day it is. This is likely due to the fact that she goes to dinner, and the menu she receives each week includes the day of the week, the date, and the meal listed for each day. My mom continues to mention Virginia and her old retirement community, but she hasn’t brought up wanting to move back there in a few weeks. My mom’s affect is flat at times, but I feel a bit more warmth from her here and there. In fact, the other day we talked on the phone for over an hour, and at the end of it, she said, “It was good talking to you.” This sounds small, but it was big, and I thought, I see my mom. That’s my mom. Miracle or not, something has shifted within her. I wonder if it is acceptance. I wonder if my mother accepts where she is now. I won’t ask her because that could trigger an entire meltdown, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of her rage. I’ll leave it be for now. I’ll be okay with what this is and appreciate the fact that, for now, things seem a bit easier.

Fuck, I hope I didn’t just jinx myself.

Love,

Michelle

P.S.I’ll be back soon because I have an entire story about remotes. All kinds of remotes. My mother seems to manifest them. I don’t understand it. More on that soon.