Stories from Caregivers: Jaime from MICHIGAN
MI
Jaime
FROM MICHIGAN
Mimi was a career woman who ran a 7-figure budget non-profit in an age when her contemporaries resembled Donna Reed. She was a beauty and a brain and a wife and mother, my mother. She still is. But at 91, she has moderate cognitive impairment and personality changes that disguise the person I remember. My siblings have died and she won't allow anyone else to see her, so I know she's aware of the changes, too. She continues to live alone, refusing to entertain any option of living with me (even as a trial for a week) or any other options. When I ask her if she wants me to find her dead on the floor one day, she's fine with that. She's "ready to join her loved ones." (Reducing me to the proverbial chopped liver). She insults me unintentionally (staring into my face, saying I remind her she needs more Botox). She watches a single TV station (can't manage switching it in case she can't find her favorite again), is suddenly afraid of the microwave (I suspect she put something metal in it but won't admit it), and reads romantic novels all day that I bring her in large print from the library (complaining if I get anything but her favorite 8 authors). I listen daily to what she ate for breakfast (just yogurt and coffee) and listen as she repeats stories that never happened (Egads! I won a scholarship for perfect attendance!?!). I get her to the grocery store, the hairdresser, the doctors. We go out to dinner once or more a week but she cannot remember what she likes and gets angry if I try to tell her, so she orders something else, I order what she likes and we always trade. The one thing I can give her that she still wants is her dignity. I come home from the caregiving emotionally exhausted. I know why. I'm looking into a mirror that reflects my future and it's scary. Not because I resent this or dislike her in any way but because I find it harder and harder to remember her as she used to be. I don't want my kids to forget who I am/was, either. Even worse, there's no roadmap to tell me if/when I should force her to leave her home. On bad days I consider it. But do I drag her, kicking and screaming, or call the police? There will be no dignity left for her. Do I wait for a crisis? I have spoken to Assisted Living homes and they say almost every new resident comes in after a medical/behavioral crisis. Sigh. Scary. So, I muddle through this caregiver role, never sure what I should do, but keep talking and laughing with her and providing her with a positive self-image and a reason to get up the next morning. And hope it's enough.
