“I’ll help however I can. Are you thinking a week, two weeks, a month? I’m sorry—I am just a little in shock and overwhelmed.”
“Whenever it’s convenient for you, I guess. Maybe within a month? I don’t know. Again, I need to pray about this.”
I texted my two brothers and sisters-in-law, asking them to pray for Dad. I told them I thought he’d found her home. When Trish asked me the name of it, she went on its website.
I received an astonishing reply that read: “Just have to share . . . on the front page of the website it reads, ‘BEAUTY is everything.’ On another page, it reads, ‘A place of BEAUTY and Elegance.’ Love you, Sis. BEAUTY is in God’s hands. Will be praying.”
SIXTEEN
DECEPTION
August 4 to August 10, 2016
Dear Friends,
I am emailing you because you have been alongside me through my journey of my mom’s Alzheimer’s disease. It is with a heavy heart that I request your prayers for our family at this time. These last several days have been very painful. My dad and I visited several memory-care homes for Mom, and he has decided it is time for her to be placed. The move will happen either Thursday or Friday of next week. With Thad and the kids traveling to Colorado, it will allow me a full three days to help with the move, transition, and all of the unknowns that go along with it.
I can’t tell you how devastating this is for us, yet we do know and accept this is the best thing for my mom. I just ask that you pray for strength, courage, patience, and peace as we go through these next several weeks. I can’t really explain my emotions at this time; however, I know God has heard our cries and has Mom and us in the palms of His hands.
My mom does not know that she is going to be placed, so I ask that you keep this to yourself if for some reason you run into her or my dad (not that you would say anything in the first place, but I just want to be clear).
I love you all, and I am deeply grateful to each one of you and thankful for your prayers during these past few years (and especially this past year), and I thank you for being there for me and for always checking in to see how Mom, I, and Dad were doing. You have lifted me up so many times without even knowing it! Your encouragement has given me so much strength this past year. I feel blessed to call you my friends.
Love, Sarah
I sent that email August 4, 2016. The day before, Dad and I had come to the conclusion that it was best for me to be available for Mom’s move, which meant missing my mother-in-law’s seventieth birthday in Colorado with the family the following weekend. With the family gone, I could help Dad with the placement and stay at his house so he would not be alone. While wearing only the daughter hat this time, I was afraid guilt would become the lining of every hat I would wear in the next few years. Though we knew we were making the right decision, at a deep level it felt like a betrayal. My heart was shattered.
Dad tearfully told me he could not place Mom. There was no way he could leave her somewhere. We also knew we could not tell her. She wouldn’t understand, she would throw a fit, and it would potentially tear her and Dad apart.
Almost all memory-care facilities have a transition period in which the resident must settle in before their loved ones can visit. Because the time frame varies as each resident adjusts and acclimates, we did not know how long it would be before we could see Mom again.
We met with the head nurse of memory care and the social worker who would help with the emotional pain of placement. The social worker was there to be Mom’s advocate. She helped caretakers understand and recognize the emotional reactions from the illness and helped the families and the patient navigate through the confusion and emotional distress.
We sat in a conference room at a rectangular table, with two tissue boxes—one for me and one for Dad—bottled water, and paper and pen for taking notes.
At the head of the table sat Macy, the head nurse and a beautiful brunette whose big smile came with a dimple on each cheek. Compassionate and empathetic, she understood the pain and fear we felt about the upcoming days.
“I know this isn’t easy,” Macy said. “This is and will be one of the most difficult things you will do in your entire life. David, I’m so sorry, and I want you to know that we will give Rebecca the attention she needs. We will love her and spend time getting to know her. I ask that you trust the process.”
Her eyes did not leave Dad’s eyes. “Most families start to question the process, and if you can just trust us and give Rebecca time to adjust, I can assure you she will be fine. You will get through this, and so will she. It won’t be easy, though.”
I looked at Dad. He could barely speak. He didn’t cry in front of others, but he couldn’t stop rubbing his tearful eyes. He nodded his head in agreement and tried to smile, as if to say thank you, but he simply couldn’t speak.
Shelley, the social worker, spoke next. “David and Sarah, this staff gives their hearts to the residents and most would tell you they feel called to take care of those with dementia and Alzheimer’s. They have all been trained and have years of experience. I am here not only for Rebecca but also to help you navigate through any confusion and answer any questions or concerns.”
Reaching over, I grabbed my fifth tissue. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
“I don’t want to do this. I don’t know how I am going to do this,” I told them. “We can’t just tell her we are leaving her here. It’s not an option. Daddy and I understand that, but how do I get her here? How can I possibly walk her into this place knowing I am leaving her here? It’s like I’m lying to my mom and dumping her in a new place with no explanation. I’m taking her from her home. How do people do this?”
I cried harder as I pictured dropping Mom off and not seeing her for weeks. She would be so confused, wondering where I had gone and why I had abandoned her. I envisioned her banging on the doors and wanting out. My mind was so clouded by the image I couldn’t think of anything else.
Shelley grabbed my hand and gave it a soft squeeze.
“I will help you both. Again, there is no easy way, and you must know in your heart that you are not abandoning your wife, David, or your mother, Sarah. Let’s work together on a plan you feel is the best for Rebecca. You know her better than anyone else.”
That’s true, we do. Which is why she may need to be drugged to get her into this place.
“Shelley, you’re right, we do know Mom. And this is going to sound crazy, but maybe the only way we can get her here is if she’s given a Valium or a glass of wine or something. She is so feisty! I’ve tried ‘volunteering’ with her at Friends Place, but she lost control when I walked away for just five minutes. It was a disaster. I can’t tell her we are going to ‘volunteer’ and bring her here. She would never set foot in this place.”
Shelley reassured me. “We have seen everything. We have seen people drop their loved one off with no issues. We have also had families bring their loved one in after giving them something to sedate them. Not to the point of coming in asleep, obviously, but if a little bit of wine helps or even half a Valium to relax her, it won’t hurt her. I would suggest calling her doctor to see what she thinks.”
I looked at Macy. “How long do you think it will be until we can see Mom again? My friend who placed her dad didn’t see him for two weeks. Do you think that will be the case for us?”
“Honestly, there is no way to predict that. It will probably be a few weeks, yes, but based on what we are hearing and have learned about your mother, she may be more difficult. It could be longer, maybe three to four weeks. It’s hard to say until she’s here.”
Three to four weeks? That’s forever!
“Really? You think it could be that long before we see her again? I mean, we are all she has right now, and you are suggesting that after I drop her off, she may not see Dad or me for three to four weeks? I just don’t see how this is going to work. You are going to have a mess on your hands. She is strong, and during her lucid moments, she’s convinced that there’s nothin
g wrong with her!”
“I understand,” Shelley said. “But as Macy said, if you can trust the process and know we are doing our very best, she can get through it and she will be safe.”
She looked into Dad’s eyes. “David, you will also get the rest you need. You will want to spend time with her instead of being so worn down that you dread taking care of her.”
To both of us, she said, “We know how much you love Rebecca. We also understand her age is challenging and that she will be the youngest resident on the floor. We will apply the form that you both filled out and use her gifts and talents in her daily activities, such as planting flowers, serving others, setting tables, dancing, and music. We want the best for her and for your family.”
I held Dad’s hand. Then we hugged Macy and Shelley, thanking them for caring and helping us through this process.
The meeting had lasted about an hour and a half. We had the placement day scheduled and a plan in place. Once Mom was there, they would put her in the respite room for a few days so she would think it was temporary. It looked like a hotel room, the idea being that the staff would eventually move her into her permanent room once she’d adjusted to her surroundings.
Once she was in the respite room, the movers would bring her things to her room two days later. Macy and the caretakers would distract and redirect Mom to make sure she did not see the movers or us. A few days later, they would transfer her into her room, where her own decorations, towels, artwork, clothes, and bed would be waiting. We believed a slow transition would diminish the abruptness Mom might feel with this move. Of course, Mom might not rationalize it that way. All logic was gone at this point, but this transition plan made us feel better.
As we walked out of that meeting, I realized we would have to take things day by day. We could not predict how long it would be before we saw Mom or how the placement would go. I knew the only way I would get through this was by the strength and grace of God. He would need to carry me through each moment, from the first day to the last. I could not do it without Him.
I CALLED ON A FEW friends for help, including Jennifer, who had helped me unbox Mom and Dad’s things when they first moved to Dallas. She was an organizer, worked fast, and had a heart to serve and help others. She also had a son in high school who had started a moving service with a few friends. Since we were only moving a few large items, we felt these boys could do the job quickly and affordably.
I also called Carie, my childhood best friend who lived in Corsicana, Texas. Our parents went to college together, and although we grew up in different cities, our moms made it a priority to keep our friendship tight. I didn’t think I could deal emotionally with moving Mom’s smaller things, but Carie would know what Mom would like. She quickly agreed to come to Dallas and help out. “You know you can count on me. This is so hard, and I’m heartbroken for you all. I love you, BFF,” she said in her soft-spoken, small-town twang.
Carie always called me her BFF. And she really was my best friend forever. She knew me, and Mom, inside and out.
And she was the only friend who could make Mom stop griping. If Mom complained about something or got worked up over a minor thing, Carie, who had been a nurse, would simply say, “Now, Becky. Quit your whinin’! You have a great life, and I don’t want to hear one more word, you hear me?” Mom would burst out laughing.
I made the second call to my other dear friend, Little Ginny, the daughter of Mom’s close friend, Ginny. Little Ginny and I were like sisters because of our moms, and we’d grown even closer since her move to Dallas years ago.
“We are doing it. Mom is being placed Thursday. I need you with me because I just can’t do it alone,” I told Little Ginny.
She did not even hesitate.
“I don’t know what I have that day, but it’s officially off the calendar. I will be there without question. Tell me where I need to be and what time. You know you are doing the right thing, don’t you? It’s going to be tough, that’s for sure, but it’s time. Your dad can’t do this alone anymore, and neither can you.”
I broke into tears over the phone. It seemed like crying was the new me. “I know. It’s just that . . . I don’t know how I can leave her. I think I have to sedate her, which feels deceptive.”
“Well, of course, she has to be sedated,” Little Ginny said. “We know how strong and independent she is, and the professionals know how to do this in the least upsetting way. What did your dad say?”
“He agrees. It’s hard to feel like we are basically drugging Mom, but he knows it will be the only way. We think I will need to take her somewhere, have some food and a little wine. If that doesn’t work, then I’ll slip some Valium into her drink. Oh my gosh, it sounds so scary.”
“Giving her a glass of wine or a little Valium is not going to hurt your mother,” Little Ginny said. “It’s just enough to relax her before we walk in. Will it just be us?”
I told her Dad and I had discussed calling Lisa, a caretaker we really liked, but Mom refused to spend more than a few hours with her. Mom had even reached the point of having Dad cancel Lisa’s visits. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Lisa. She didn’t want any caretaker or “friend” coming over anymore. But of all the caretakers, Lisa was the one Mom liked the most.
“I think we will ask Lisa. It would be nice to have someone experienced with us. I want to take Mom to get her hair done so she will be pretty when she goes in. Then maybe Lisa can meet you, Mom, and me for lunch, and we will celebrate. Hey, your birthday is less than a week away, right?”
That sounds weird. “Happy birthday, my dear friend. Let’s go place Mom as your birthday gift!”
“I know that sounds terrible. Great birthday gift, huh?”
Little Ginny laughed.
“If Mom thinks we are celebrating something,” I said, “then we will all have a reason to order wine. You know, she finally stopped drinking, so I hope just a little wine will be enough. But I feel so bad using your birthday as an excuse to have lunch and celebrate.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I can see past that, Sarah. This is about peace and rest for your dad and safety for your mom.”
I knew with Carie and Little Ginny by my side, I could do it. Our three moms were college friends, and we three shared a special bond. They were my soul sisters and are even to this day.
Dad spoke with Lisa, and now the whole team was on board.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 11, WAS FAST approaching. I scheduled Mom’s hair appointment for 9:30 that morning. While Tona, Mom’s hairdresser, colored and styled her hair, I would meet Little Ginny at Dad’s, then we would drive together to pick up Mom. From the salon, we would join Lisa at the restaurant. After lunch, Lisa would ask us to visit some of her “friends” at a nearby care center.
It was all a lie. Once again, I was nauseated just thinking about the manipulation and deception, with Mom the innocent victim.
Why this disease, God? Why this way? How is this love? I hope You forgive me one day, because I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself. I trust in Your plan, although it is hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. We have prayed and we are walking by faith, but the lying and manipulation and deception seem anything but right.
I was a traitor to my own mother.
SEVENTEEN
ABANDONMENT DAY, PART 1
August 11, 2016
THURSDAY MORNING, AUGUST 11TH, I woke up at 5:00. Grabbing my coffee, I headed straight to my prayer room. Each morning, I would spend an hour alone with God before the kids awoke and the busyness began. Today of all days, I needed God to take over. Already weak and emotional, I was not ready for this day.
I sat with the girls during breakfast. Without giving them much detail, I told them what was going on. Elijah was still asleep and too young to understand anyway, but the girls were eleven and twelve years old.
“Girls, I love y’all so much. Please pray that God gives me the strength and courage to help Beauty into her new home because it won’t be easy. I’m so
rry I can’t be with you in Colorado this weekend for Mia’s birthday, but I know you will have so much fun. Take good care of your brother and dad.”
Emery looked down at her breakfast and asked, “Mom, will Pop be all by himself now?”
“Well, eventually he will be home by himself, but I am going to stay with him tonight and this weekend and next week. When you get back, I know he would love for you to stay with him, too.”
I knew Emery, our sensitive child, was thinking about it too much. She and Mom, so much alike, had a unique connection, different from those of the other grandkids.
“Em, look at me.”
Her big brown eyes locked onto mine without blinking.
“Pop will be okay. Beauty will be okay, too, because this is the best thing for her. It will take time for her to adjust, but she can do it. Pop can’t care for her alone anymore. You have witnessed things that have been extremely difficult for him and me—for all of us. But he is a strong man and has lots of wisdom and courage. Please don’t worry about Pop, all right?”
She had tears in her eyes but nodded her head. “Okay, Mommy. I just don’t want Pop to be alone.”
Frensley, deep in thought, had a distant look in her wide hazel eyes. I knew she wanted to share what was on her heart.
“What is it, Frensley?”
“Well, I just . . . how are you going to get Beauty there? I mean, are you going to tell her or what? She’s going to be so mad at you, Mom!”
We both laughed, and then Emery smiled and backed up her sister. “Yeah, Mom, she’s going to be so mad!”
“It won’t be easy, but y’all don’t worry about the details of today. What is important is to be grateful that God is in control. He will go before me and before Beauty. I trust Him. We can cast all of our fears and anxieties on Him. He will drive this train for me today. He will get me through.”
I was strong for the girls, and deep down I was terrified. But it had to be done, and I had to believe He would help me through the coming hours.
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