The ‘A’ Word

Dear Diary,

Have just returned from visiting hubby’s mother who’s in the hospital with another bout of pneumonia.  The call came last night from his brother who received the news from his sister who was actually with her. Seems that sis only had the other brother’s name and number logged into her cell phone.  Doesn’t matter how we got the news. Just glad that we did.   I’ve been concerned all day about her since she was in the hospital at Christmas with the same thing.  It also bothered me that the people at the place where she is living didn’t notice the apparent change in her health.

I guess it was in February or March when mom was moved into the assisted living facility.  She has her own small apartment but takes her meals in the dining room. She has assistance with bathing and someone comes by every morning to administer her medication(s).  She has taken a couple of day trips with the other residents. she enjoys a variety of social activities offered by the facility.  Out front waits a limo to take residents shopping in town or wherever they need to go.  Over dinner that evening after the move in,  we jokingly  wondered out loud what the age requirements were for living there – wondering if we qualified. She felt safe there – something she had not felt in a long time in her own home – where the cats were her daily companions. She did not want to move in with any of her children.

When Jen  (the granddaughter)arrived on Thursday for a visit, she immediately noticed that mom was talking a little  incoherently – or rather more so than she usually does.  A bit alarmed, J. calls her mom (sis), who in turn calls the front desk at the home and askes them to check on mom. They decide to call an ambulance to take her to the hospital.

Tonight her talking got really strange.  She was determined to get out of bed and go find “those pies”.  Things went from bad to worse  as she cried out for “Help, I’m being held hostage”.  Sis had requested a private room but none was available. When mom asked the lady in the other bed to call the police for her, she was quietly ignored. Our feeble attempts to apologize to the son sitting with his mom were graciously countered with “It’s okay, I understand, my dad did the same”. She became a little physical with my hubby as he tried to keep her in bed – pushing against him and knocking cans and cups off the bed table.

No one wants to admit it but all have thought it. Doctors (in my opinion) have not been straight forward with her and the family. The little pill for “my memory” is certainly not helping.

We’re facing some challenges with mom.  Alzheimers…

..the ‘A’ word.

~Susie