A daughter's rant: ALZHEIMER'S SUCKS!!!

Okay folks, it's time for me to get a little deep.  I'm back in southern Utah.  My sweet mom was released from the hospital last Wednesday, but had to be rushed back to the emergency room on Saturday because she had become so weak and dehydrated...which was why she fell and ended up in the hospital in the first place.  Two words peeps...

ALZHEIMER'S SUCKS!!!

The last few years have been terribly painful watching one of the most independant, articulate and talented woman I've ever known become unable to carry on a conversation and completely dependant on my father to do all the things she once did so efficiently and effortlessly, while working full time and raising a family, mind you.

I have been mourning her loss since the day I realized what was happening to her.  But now, seeing her so frail and fragile, I am mourning all over again.  Before, she was at least mobile and could/would feed herself and maintained a small amount of independance, but now she no longer has that.  She has been restricted to sitting for fear that she may fall and hit her head again and she has to be constantly reminded, almost forced it feels, to drink and eat because she simply doesn't remember she's hungry or thirsty-not a good thing when you live in the desert and it's 115 degrees outside...but hey, at least it's a dry heat.  Wah wah.

Last night I had a chance to leave the kiddos behind for a few hours and sit with my mom at the hospital.  While she slept, I found myself staring at her, and reminiscing about the good old days.  I found myself trying to remember her voice and found myself laughing inside at some of the things she used to say to me.  As a teen she used to always tell me "put some lipstick on".  Yes peeps, back in the day I was a little "granola".  It was my way of rebelling.  My mother was gorgeous and glamorous and stylish.

Once I became a mother, she would always call and ask how everyone was.  She'd say "is everyone well", and then proceed to remind me to "keep the baby's head covered"  and "avoid Wal-mart" if I was planning on venturing out into the {toxic and contaminated} world.  It didn't matter if if was 10 degrees or 110 degrees out.  If a newborn's head was exposed, surely they'd end up with consumption or some deadly plague.  She never really said what covering their head's would protect them from, just that it would keep them from getting sick and that I needed to do it.  She was funny like that.

Even though I may not have totally agreed with this philosophy...I was always maintained more of a "what doesn't kill you makes you stonger" theory, I still found myself covering my babies heads everytime I left the house.  And there is no denying that my mother had mad talent when it came to babies.  She was "the baby whisperer".  She's always loved babies and still does.  Somehow her mind hasn't forgotten that.  Everytime my baby niece comes around my mother light's up and we get a glimpse of the woman she was...is, though it may buried deep inside somewhere now.  

I found myself staring at her hands...her amazingly skilled and talented hands now bruised from her fall and showing signs of age.  Her frail hands that now sit quietly folded in her lap once used to create masterpieces.  My mother was an amazing seamstress.  She sewed her own wedding dress back in the fifties and looked like she stepped right out of a fashion magazine.  She was...is, absolutely beautiful.
My mother was also an amazing cook; a skill that, unfortunately, was not passed down to me. I remember her making enchiladas, chicken roll ups and all sorts of delicious casseroles.  Even though she worked full time growing up, she always managed to have something hot and ready for dinner.  I remember her making homemade bread and how the smell would permeate the entire house.  I used to try and steal pieces of the dough to nibble on without getting caught.  Consequently, my mother was also crazy sanitary and if she ever found you with your fingers in the food she'd wack you {gently...most of the time} with whatever was lying nearby...spatula, wooden spoon, yard stick.  I find it hilarious looking back now, because my mother wouldn't harm a fly.  A cockroach, well now, that is another story.
After a few hours of IV infusion, my mother was allowed to go home.  My sister's and I sat with her for awhile longer and could tell she was feeling better.  At one point she was even talking a little and smiling.  It felt for a moment that mom was back and we were all just visiting like we used to do.  When I left mom to go back to my family, I actually felt grateful...grateful to have had this wonderful influence in my life, grateful to have had a chance to see her happy and smiling again and grateful to know that someday I will be able to see her made whole...what a great conversation we will have then.  In the meantime, I will find joy in the time that she still has with us and the wonderful legacy she has left behind.  I am surrounded by amazing women she reared {my sister's} and I take great comfort in that because I can see little glimmers of mom in each of them {that includes you Lindsay}.  

Here's a pic of mom in her {handmade} wedding dress.  Aren't my parents the cutest?