Descent into Alzheimer's Disease

I’m starting to feel like we are a family in crisis, although I’m sure my family was in crisis most of the time I was growing up. So these awful, practically unbearable situations don’t seem that strange.

I stopped by Dr. Trinkle’s office yesterday after I dropped Mom off. I told his nurse how Mom had done so well for five days or so and then things went south. She was very sweet and reassuring and told me we probably just need to raise the dosage on the Trilafon and Mom will be happy again. Of course, she has to ask the doctor and get back to me. I haven’t heard from them yet, but I’m starting to feel like this medicine is working against her. Having Mom be cooperative and sweet for a few days only to return to her nightmarish self is like a cruel joke. I feel like the denizens of hell are rolled up in laughter, clutching their guts and pointing at me derisively (yes, insanity can be genetic).

This morning I fixed Mom a stack of pancakes, complete with meds and syrup. I was unable to convince her to get up, so I decided to take her covers and pester her, which always gets her up (in a rage, of course). She was soaked through her pull-ups, clothes, bedding, etc., so I tired to get her to go to the bathroom so I could clean her. She refused and went and stood by the table and started eating. I went to change her there, but she grabbed onto her pants. I persisted and finally broke them out of her grip and she started throwing her pancakes into my hair (since I was bent over getting her pants off). Food was flying everywhere and she grabbed her dirty pull-ups and slung them, too. I had to scramble to get to the food on the floor before the dog, but I need not have worried as she was happily in the other room eating my plate of pancakes. Throughout all this Mom is also calling me all the bad names she can still remember.

“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire.....” Doesn’t this just paint a vision of a joyous home?

I somehow manage to get her somewhat cleaned off with wipies and into clean clothes, fighting and struggling through it. Then I retreat to my room while she eats what’s left of her breakfast.

Her hair was filthy and there’s no way I can take her to daycare another day without washing it, so I got the added pleasure of that duty. I washed mine first to encourage her, but she wasn’t gonna be manipulated that easily. After about ten minutes of calling her name and asking her to come to the kitchen, I knew that wasn’t happening. I waited until she got near the sink and then I wrapped my arms around her body with my hands on the edge of the sink. She was trapped and trying to escape, but I had water already in a plastic container to pour over her hair. With my body and one arm, I held her in position and with the other arm I forced her to lean forward a bit. I poured the water over her hair and she quit trying to stand up straight while I lathered it up. I got through it amidst much protesting, swearing, and elbow jabbing.

Now even with all I have gone through today, she will be taken to daycare tomorrow dirty and smelly, because she’s not clean and she’ll be even less clean in the morning. By the time I get through the change into dry clothes, I feel like I’ve been through a major battle. Getting her washed thoroughly, too? Doesn’t happen. At least her hair will be clean.

I’m sure any stranger looking at Mom would think to themselves, “Poor neglected woman! Someone should be taking care of her!”

I am tired. I am so tired of the fight. There are easy ways and hard ways to do things and it’s a long standing family tradition that we must do things the hard way. Maybe this is Mom’s way of winning victory over the Alzheimer’s beast. She will go down kicking and screaming, asserting her authority til the end. She never was the submissive type. I suppose I should be happy that she’s managed to hang onto her personality through this ordeal.

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On a lighter note, I bought Mom a baby doll which she seems to enjoy.

I’m boiling the carcass for turkey soup this very moment.

I’ve been getting more web work.

My car is filled with gas.

I bought a present for Josh and Leah yesterday.

Chris gave me a big hug.

I remembered to put out the junk for the recycle man.

Life is good in spite of all my complaining.

Hebrews 13:5 Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.