—Emily
Lisa,
I love reading your blog. You are so sweetly upbeat and positive. You are an inspiration to me, as you help me keep me “sunny side up.”
—Randy
Just wanted to say I have been reading your blog. It feels like you are talking about my mom. So many of the things you say are what I go through every day. Twice this month she showed real excitement in seeing me. This felt good, but I knew something wasn’t quite right. Then she proceeded to tell me that I was her mother and she was my daughter. I know from going through this for two years, with both parents having Alzheimer’s, that you try to laugh and gently see if you can get them going on the right track. After several minutes she looked at me and said, “I am your mother”! I said, “That’s right. You are my mom!” I had a very difficult relationship with my mother for the first fifty years of my life. We never got along. Since April 2010, when she suffered a stroke and a grand mal seizure, things have changed. As much as I hate this disease, I am so glad that I have had these last two years to spend with my mom. I love her so much. Thanks for blogging and listening to me.
—Cheri
Hi Lisa,
I have just found your blog about you and your mom, and it really hit home. My mum was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s three years ago. I live in England and she lives in Northern Ireland, which means we have a plane journey between us. Your blog is amazing, and it feels comforting to recognize similar traits in our mums. Anyway, please keep blogging!
Kind regards,
Sara
June 22, 2011
Trading Places, or
Is Alzheimer’s Catching?
Iseemed to switch places with my mom today. I became her, and she became me. This morning she tried to help me find the mascara that I had misplaced. While on the phone with her, I was getting ready to put my eye makeup on. I can easily do that while I have her on the speaker phone. I began to move about, which is what I do from time to time. While speaking to her, I realized that I could not find my mascara. As we continued to talk, I kept opening and closing the draws in my bathroom vanity, hoping that my makeup would reappear. I started getting upset when my mom said, “So you’ll go buy new ones.” I answer, “That’s not the point. I always keep them in the same place, so where can they be?”
Mom told me to check my handbag by removing everything from it. After emptying my bag, I still could not find my makeup. She then told me to retrace every place where I have been. I looked in my handbag again and even the kitchen garbage. How could I have accidently thrown out my mascara? My mother Ruthie told me next to look in the clothes I wore yesterday, along with my robe, which I had already done. She wanted to know how much it would cost to replace the makeup. “Maybe thirty dollars,” I said, “but Mom, that’s not the point. How can they just disappear?” She then told me not to worry and reassured me that they will reappear. I started to laugh.
Did I become her or did she become me? Did we just trade places? I did not enjoy the feeling of being confused. I could not understand what had happened to my makeup that each day is always in the same place.
I’ve been with Mom when she goes through similar episodes and looks in her handbag for her four pairs of glasses. She seems to wander back and forth trying to find what she has misplaced. I feel lots of compassion for her as she keeps looking, not understanding what she did with them. While I understand what I am doing, I cannot help feeling confused and frustrated. How could I have lost my makeup? Where could it be? What was happening to me? Could I also be in the early stages of Alzheimer’s? I certainly hope not.
After I hung up, I found my makeup, which was lying on the floor behind my toilet. Why didn’t I think of looking there, before I went through garbage cans and had an anxiety attack? I called Mom back to tell her I found it. She wanted to know where, and we both began to giggle. I told her that I felt like her for a moment, and she replied, “Why? I have a good memory and I don’t lose things.” Sure, Mom, whatever you say.
She was still looking for her watch that she couldn’t find for a year, only to later say that she never had one. We were like the blind leading the blind for a few minutes. My mom, my hero, stayed cool and calm as she suggested to me where I should look. It felt good that my mom, maybe for only a moment, could take care of me. This left me with a warm wonderful feeling, which I so badly needed to embrace.
COMMENTS
I loved this. Went through it with my own mom and it brought back some wonderful memories.
—Anonymous
I just happened upon this blog and post quite by accident, but I wanted to tell you what a gift it was to read this tonight. I’m only beginning to come to terms with my mom’s dementia. The grief and the fear is often too overwhelming for me to deal with the way I should, the way I want to, but I am trying hard to find my way back to my mom. I owe so much to her. I can’t abandon her now.
—Angela
Hi Lisa,
What a special treat it was for me to read your blog about your sweet mom.
Alzheimer’s disease and other dementia can be so cruel. My dear mom had dementia during the last year or so of her life. When Mom passed away, I moved into my parents’ home to care for my dad, who also suffered from dementia; he attended an adult daycare facility during the day so that I could continue working. I was his caregiver for three and a half years when cancer took his life in 1990. I later married a wonderful gentleman who now, at age seventy-two, is showing some signs of memory loss. His mother, at the time of her death, had a form of dementia, and we are both aware of a genetic connection, although Joel hasn’t been diagnosed yet. I am, at this moment, attempting to deal with feelings about caring for another loved one who may end up with this terrible condition. It is wonderful that you maintain a positive attitude during the times spent with Ruthie, both in person as well as on the phone. That will get you through the rough times and provide some lovely memories. May God bless you as you travel this path with your beautiful mom.
—Channel
July 11, 2011
Birthday Dedication
to the One I Love
Tomorrow is my birthday. Today when I spoke to my mom, I asked her to practice her singing with me because tomorrow I would love for her to sing me the lyrics of the Happy Birthday song. We both giggled like teenage girls, as I delighted in the fact that mom is still able to remember the words.
I amusingly asked her if she could believe that she gave birth to me so many years ago. Ruthie laughed and replied, “If you tell me that I did, then I will believe you.” Mom, because of Alzheimer’s, cannot even remember when I was born or how old I am. In fact, she has no idea how old she is either. Maybe that is not such a bad thing.
“Mom, would you like to guess how old I am?”
Ruthie replied, “No, I don’t remember, and as long as you have your health and are alive, that is all that matters.”
Okay, Mom, my post today on my blog is dedicated to the one I love. My mom, named Ruthie.
My mom gave birth to me when she was twentyfour years old. She cuddled me, fed me, and dressed me. She sent me to ballet school, gave me piano lessons, sent me to sleep-away camp, took me on vacations, and toured historic sites with me, as well as cultural events, museums, and concerts. My mom who took care of me as a young child and through my teenage years, then sent me off to college and watched as I became a bride (not once, but twice) and later as I became a mother myself.
This is the mom who watched and took care of my dad for nine long months as he was in a nursing home dying. My mom has held her head high and has shown me much strength and courage. My mom, although she suffers from Alzheimer’s and macular degeneration at the age just shy of eighty-seven, never seems to complain or sound depressed. Every day when I phone, she sounds so cheerful. When I say hello, I can feel the smile on her face and laughter in her heart as she says, “Hi, sweetie.”
This is my mom whom I have fallen deeply and passionately in love with the la
st several years.
This is the mom who gave birth to me, brought me into this world, and raised me to be a caring human being. This is the mom I want to thank. This is the mom who has become my hero.
Today with my birthday one day away, I want to thank her for all that she has done and dedicate to her all my love. Without my mom, I would not be here. Thank you, Mom. This I dedicate to you.
COMMENTS
Hi Lisa,
I saw your blog today for the first time, and it really touched me. I posted a brief note but also wanted to personally write here and thank you for writing your love story to your mom and for sharing your personal journey. It actually gave me strength and some clarity, too. My seventy-nine-year-old mother also has Alzheimer’s, and my father has dementia from a severe stroke. I am the primary caregiver, since my brother lives out of state. Thanks again, as I will be following you along your journey with your mother.
—Alyce
Lisa,
You are tonic. Others talk about the challenges while you talk about the relationship. Again, you are truly tonic.
—Mary, United Kingdom
August 8, 2011
What’s My Daughter’s Name?
Iwant to stay upbeat and positive, although as I write this post, I am honestly feeling a little frightened and upset. I called my brother to share with him what our mother had said yesterday to me. Or, should I say, what she did not say. It certainly left me feeling a little bewildered and with a heavy heart.
As my mom answered the phone, I greeted her with a perky hello. “Hi, Mom, and how are you feeling today?” She answered, “Just fine, sweetie,” which immediately put a big smile on my face and much joy in my heart. I excitedly told Mom how I just met another girl named Lisa Elian. Please let me explain. Elian is my maiden name, and an unusual one at that. I did not bother to tell Mom that I met her on Facebook or that she lived in Austria, which is where my dad’s father was from. Maybe we are related? I did share this part with mom.
Ruthie laughed out loud and said, “Really? That’s very funny, because my name is Lisa Elian.” Did I just hear my mom correctly or was I hearing things? “Mom, I thought your name was Ruth.” She answered, “No, I have two names, Lisa and Ruth.” “Well, Mom, then who am I?” She said, “I’m not sure who I am speaking to.” Was I hearing things? Mom had just called me “sweetie,” after she answered the phone.
“Mom, I’m your daughter, and my name is Lisa. Maybe you just want to call yourself Lisa because you love me so much.” She laughed, and at that moment, I think she realized her confusion.
After I hung up, I tried to call my brother. He did not answer. I shared all this with my husband, and I couldn’t help feeling a little shaken up. I was then left with the scary thought: What was happening to my mother?
The next day I finally reached my brother Gil. He agreed that she was getting worse. I called Mom again today, and this time I asked her if she could spell my name. Mom answered, “I don’t even know your name.” “Mom, not only am I your daughter, you also gave me my name. Can you guess what my name is?” First she says, “Is it Trudy?” She then quickly says, “Lisa.” Very good, Mom, I think, and then say, “What is your name?” Mom says, “Ruth.”
Tomorrow when I call, and every day after, I will start my calls with, “Hi Mom, it’s Lisa, your daughter,” so my mom will hopefully be sure to remember my name.
COMMENTS
Thank you so much for creating this profile. I have cried when reading some of the things you’ve posted here. My mom’s Alzheimer’s was discovered recently when it was already 18 on a scale of 30. She has been getting worse every few moments, while other moments she is just fine. My love and compassion have been growing. I still have more to bring out. It’s been so painful seeing her like this. The acceptance has recently just begun working inside me. I love her so much and always want her to know it, because yes, it’s true, she forgets that, too! I love your page because it’s just what I and many others need. Thank you!
—Stacey
Your relationship with your mom is inspirational and worthy of sharing. Thank you for doing so. You will encourage many of us who are struggling with relationships that have been affected by dementia.
—A Place for Mom
August 24, 2011
Happy Birthday, Mom
Today is August 24, 2011. It is a very special day in more ways than one. I am so excited because today my mom turns eighty-seven years young. When I shared this with Ruthie, she replied, “Eighty-seven years old. Wow, am I really that old?” “Yes, Mom.” She then replied, and I quote her, “Well, at least I don’t look my age.” And with that, we both laughed.
Fortunately she still is filled with much spunk and energy. I do think that she looks her age, yet I will certainly not say so. Why would I spoil her day? If Ruthie thinks she looks young, that’s all that matters. You see, my mom’s eyesight is failing, because she also has macular degeneration. This is something that she never mentions nor complains about.
Besides it being her birthday, there are also threats that Hurricane Irene is close to Florida’s shores. When I spoke with Mom’s caregiver Elaine, she shared with me that she was going to get a cake and come back to Mom’s at the same time that my brother would be arriving. She also reassured me that if the hurricane was going to be threatening in anyway, she would stay over at my mom’s house. Elaine so caringly did not want Mom to be all alone.
Elaine is so kind and thoughtful for offering this. She and her daughter Trudy take such wonderful care of my mom. We are very fortunate to have each of them.
Elaine put Mom back on the telephone, and I shared with her what Elaine had just told me. Mom repeated everything that I said right back to Elaine. I was amused by this, and I told her that Elaine was so nice to her because she was so sweet. We both giggled, and sure enough, she repeated what I just said, once again to Elaine.
I then heard Mom say, “Lisa, you are a doll, and I love you so much.” “Mom, you’re going to make me cry.” She answered, “Please don’t cry.” “Mom, they would be tears of joy.” After we hung up, my heart felt like it could explode with how much love I felt for her.
It’s hard to believe that before my mom got Alzheimer’s there were moments when we fought and did not get along. Sometimes, for a quick second, I did not care if we saw each other again. Today all I want to do is hold on to her, love her, and cherish every second that she still knows my name and who I am. Ruthie, my mom, now is to me one special lady.
So Mom, I dedicate to you all my love and wish that all my writings about you and our relationship are able to touch other people, just like you have touched me. I would also want to wish you a very special birthday and send you all my love, sealed with a kiss.
xoxo
Lisa
COMMENTS
Hi Lisa,
I love your blog. My mom too suffers with Alzheimer’s. I recently went to my first walk to end Alzheimer’s, and the emotions I felt were none that I would have expected. It was like a burden was lifted off of me, because for the first time I felt, “Hey, our family is not the only one going through this journey!” (Even though, of course, I knew realistically we were not.) It was just that feeling of actually physically seeing others going through the same journey. It was almost like a relief, which is a weird feeling because you do not wish this disease on anyone. But, for a lack of a better word, that is exactly how I felt. Reading your blogs has also made feel I am not alone! I am the only girl in a family with three boys, whom by the way I love dearly, but who are absolutely no help when it comes to the care of my mother. (LOL!)
My dad is my mom’s primary caregiver, and I am her secondary caregiver. I only live two hours from my parents’ home and can go there quite often to assist my dad with her care. I hate hate hate this disease, but I have fallen in love with my “other” mom. I have learned to let go of the person that was and to embrace the person that is. This disease has definitely shown me the true meaning of lov
e. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers as we go through this journey with our moms. Thanks again for sharing your thoughts!
—Kassey
December 18, 2011
Feelings,
Oh So Many Feelings
“Mom, do you know your mother?” “No Lisa, I do not remember her.” “Mom, who are you to me?” My mom then answered, “I am your good friend,” as she gave me a kiss on the top of my head as she exited the room. My heart sank for a moment, and when she came back I responded with, “Mom, I love you so much.” She then said, “I love you also.” I asked, “As your daughter?” “Yes, Lisa, as my daughter, and my friend.”
This was pretty much how my visit with Mom was this trip. It made me realize that her Alzheimer’s was progressing. I was so grateful that my husband had come with me and that we were not staying at her home. I was able to spend six days with her, and when I left fortunately I had my husband’s love and support to help me cope with my mom’s condition.
While I was in one room, my husband in another, and my mom in another, my husband heard my mom say, “Is anyone here, is anyone here?” We answered, and she then said, “Someone please come here. I’m very lonesome.”
Monday, the day before we left to go back home, my mom seemed listless. She had no energy, nor did she want to do anything. Mom was not interested in anything as simple as even getting or giving hugs. As I sat at the airport the next day, waiting to return home, I felt my eyes filling up with tears. My heart felt quite heavy, and I experienced sadness as I wondered what might lie ahead.
My Mom My Hero: Alzheimer's - A Mother and Daughter's Bittersweet Journey Page 2
