If Then What

In the middle of the afternoon last week I received a phone call. "Susan, this is Kristie, this is not an emergency." If I were directing a scary movie, I would cue the foreboding music at the word "emergency." Because when the director of the assisted living facility where my mother lives calls, it usually isn't a happy call. This time, she informed me that twice in the last day or so, my mom had wandered off of the floor she lives on. Once she got onto the elevator and made her way to the third floor of the building (at 3 a.m.), and the other time she was found on the ground floor. The director kindly informed me that she thought it was time I move my mother into a secured "memory care" facility.

So, we have come to the point I have been dreading. The next move in my mother's life. Where I have to take her out of the place she has lived for the last 6 years, take her away from the caregivers she has grown so attached to, and move her into a safer setting.

My mother's dementia and I have been locked in a fierce battle for years. And while I won't make a pact with the devil, I will bargain with God to hang on to my mom for a while longer. I've pulled out all of my ammunition over the years.

Maybe. . .
If I move my mom closer to me.. .
If I get her new hearing aids. . .
If I get her out of the building. . .
If she gets the newspaper delivered. . .
If I try the latest in Alzheimer drugs. . .
If I hire a companion. . .
If I move her to an assisted living apartment. . .
If I move her to a smaller studio. . .
If I don't take her out of the building. . .

If I do all this then what? She will recover from dementia? My mother's senility has broken my heart more times than any boyfriend ever did.

Years ago, when my father was dying, I would walk to my office and look at the faces of the people passing me by. I would marvel about how you can't tell what people are dealing with just by looking at them.

So today I am donning my (figurative) t-shirt with the saying across the front "I'm in pain, people!!"