My Heart

Dear Diary,

3 simple recommendations from the doctor:  be safe, be healthy, be happy.  At least it sounded simple at the time.  Now, I’m not so sure.

In the first weeks after the dreadful diagnosis, mama was convinced that she could take care of things.  After all, they were sisters and had been living together for the past 5 years.  They had nursed each other back to health whenever either one was sick.  Always the big sister to mama, and in relatively good health for someone about to celebrate #87, my aunt knew something wasn’t "right" and just wanted to find out what was going on. Doctor visits, numerous tests, and consultations brought us the news…and the simple recommendations.

It took about 3 weeks for mama to realize that this illness was more than she could handle alone. But alone she wasn’t. My sister and I spent many nights to provide an extra set of eyes and ears. A sitter was hired when we could no longer manage the nights and going to work the next day. One of us would stay with my aunt and the other would take mama shopping just to get her out of the house for a couple of hours.

In tears one afternoon, mama cried that she wasn’t able to continue the care at home and would we please go look into the possibility  of placement in an assisted living facility. Upset ourselves, sister and I checked out a familiar place, gathered information, and brought it back to mama and 2 other sisters for the final decision.  That first move seems so long ago but it was on Good Friday when my aunt was brought to her "new" home.  The following week, mama moved into an apartment, a first for this 81 year old woman.

The weeks that followed were a time of adjustment for both sisters. My aunt, for the most part, was making the transition okay; but bouts of confusion were more frequent. My mom, for the most part, was making the transition okay; but bouts of guilt and grief filled her days.

With the arrival of May, sister and I found ourselves spending the first weekend in the hospital with our aunt. Bizarre is the best word to describe why she was there. In hindsight it was the best decision at the time. A new doctor, a different perspective, a confirmed diagnosis – vascular dementia. It was apparent she would not be able to return to the assisted living facility and arrangements were made for a move to a nursing home.

This month has been exhausting and heartbreaking.  I don’t know if she knows who I am.  I do know she’s safe. I do know she’s getting good care. Frequent visits by various family members affirms that.  Other than the damage to her brain, I do know she’s healthy.

But right now, I have no way to know if she’s happy. And that breaks…      

…my heart.

~Susie