By nature, I tend to “research” whenever I find a new idea, work opportunity, craft, recipes etc.  I enjoy learning and I am not afraid to find information.  My jobs as an adult day services director lead me to all sorts of research.  Part of that was also for my benefit.  One such subject was our support group.  It is important to walk in the shoes of a caregiver, but they also want you as the support group facilitator to be an expert.  At that time, I was walking in their shoes…but I was no expert.  So I found books and read them, highlighted them, re-read until I had somewhat of an idea of this life as a caregiver.  It was still new to me personally as well as a facilitator and each new situation posed an opportunity to learn.

My mother and I had been living in a town house (after my mom’s fall and my return home)  for a number of years.  My mother was becoming physically stronger and no longer needed her cane.  She had her friends to socialize with and she was doing well.  I was struggling with my “duties” and our relationship.  But I was learning what it meant to be a caregiver.   With my mother getting better, she was returning to the “wanderlust” she so enjoyed before the fall.   The difference was that my sister and I only lived two states apart and now my sister was not too keen in having my mother stay with her as before.  But I had a brother out east who wanted my mother to come out to live with them for a few months.  He felt honor to have his mother around so his children could really get to know her.  He also wanted to help in her care and be there for me, give me a break.  I was excited.  And so I thought was my mother…to be with her son and his family…to see his new home and enjoy time with them.

As preparations advance and tickets were bought my mother seemed to enjoy buying new clothes and presents for the grand kids.  She always, baked Swedish Coffee Bread for my brothers and she started working on this as well as knitting for everyone.  I was planning my time as well.  No, not parties…but just the fact that I would be able to do what I wanted and when I wanted.  I was looking forward to that day the plane would take off.  I even was planning my first meal alone-pizza with all the toppings.   I was excited.  All was going smoothly, or so I thought.

I got a phone call at work one day.  It was a woman that I recognized her voice but could not place her at first.  She was upset and excited which threw me off.  Something about “how could you!”  “After all you work with elders…you should know better.”  “Your father would be so disappointed with you.”   I thought it was one of our caregivers but could not understand why my father was mention.  It was not one of our caregivers, instead it was one of my mom’s friends.  I calmed her down and asked her what she was referring to.  She said she was upset that I was throwing my mom out of the house.  WHAT?  I asked her to repeat it again.  Then I asked her where she heard it from.  She said my mother was crying and told them how bad I was to her by throwing her out.  I have no idea what the lady said after that, I was just astonish.  I was totally thrown off the train and laying on tracks with the sound of the train coming for me.  I got my senses under controlled and thank her for alerting me to my mom’s feelings but assured her that I was not throwing my mom out.

The drive home from work was long and bewildering.  Where did my mom get this from?  She was excited about going to my brothers.  She loved to travel.  She enjoyed visiting family.  She enjoyed new places.  This was before 9/11.  Before TSA lines.  What was going on?  What have I done??  Then I remember from one of my many research books, that at times an elder will feel overwhelmed and say or do things that they would never have done before.  The book gave an example of a son who with his father’s request (due to the diagnosis of dementia) to help him with his checking and bill paying.  All went well until one day the father yelled at him in front of friends claiming the son was stealing from him and he needed a lawyer.  The son needless to say was destroyed.  After the outburst and some time to calm down he was able to determine that the father’s good friend (a banker) had asked why he had not seen the man for a while and only saw his son at the bank.  The father was embarrassed and did not know how to explain that he had dementia and was afraid of what people would think…it was easier to claim his son was the problem.

I remember when I read that story I thought it was a bit too much.  How could they do that?  Here the father asked the son to help.   Then another example of a woman accusing her husband of stealing from her – hiding things from her when in reality she was forgetting where she put these items.  She did not want to acknowledge her memory was fading.  Loss is hard.  As we get older assumptions are made.  Elders are push to hide the truth from themselves or others.  It is easier to blame someone else.  The reality is harder to accept.  I am not saying everyone with memory problems will do this….but it does happen.  I felt blessed that my mother was not like that.  Until this happen.  It can happen to anyone.

On that drive home I prayed for guidance on how to deal with this.  The one advantage I had was that my mom did not have any memory issues.  But something was wrong.  Something was out of place.  For both our sake I had to figure this out before she left.  What a terrible feeling to have and I did not want her to think I was throwing her out.

When I got into the house, my mother was upstairs.  Her suite case was on the bed and she was folding some items to place inside.  I could see that some of the items were out of place for the weather…but I was more interested in how I would start this conversation.  My mom seemed to be in good spirits so I thought I would just jump in and ask her how she was feeling.  Good she answered.  Was she excited about the trip I asked.  Yes, she answered.  I then started to talk about how excited my brother was about having her come and the things she had planned and then all of a sudden she yelled out with tears in her eyes….”what kind of toilet paper will they have?  It won’t be like ours.”  Taken a back, I reassured her that they had the same brand I would be happy to call my brother to make sure he would buy it for her if they did not.  Then I asked if anything was wrong.  Wiping her eyes she said no.  I asked her if she was afraid.  No.  I asked her looking at her items for the suit case if she felt overwhelmed.  At that point the tears came down in buckets.  She tried to explain that nothing would fit.  That we would not make it in time to the airport.  That she would forget something….and it went on and on until I finally stopped her and calmly reassured her.  We sat there for a few moments as she caught her breath and wiped the tears.

I realized then that all those questions were normal questions we all have but are able to stop ourselves from allowing them to take over.  We normally will place them in proper order in our mind and instead weed out what we don’t need to worry about and work on the true items.  My mom use to be able to do that.  But as I sat with her on the bed, I realize she could not at this time.  I asked her if I could help her decided what to take.  She agreed and soon we were going through her choices.  I could see that pattern.  Items she wanted to wear and show my brother family she looked good in even thought they would be too hot or cold for the weather.  Or an something they bought her for Christmas the years before and felt she wear it out there.  We narrowed it down and soon were able to pack all the items she needed.  Her mind was back on a decision mode instead of emotional.  Things were falling into place.

She thanked me for helping.  Then looked at me and asked:  “What if they don’t like me?”  Her eyes welded up.  She looked so fragile.  I answered by telling her that he is her son…of course he will like her.  He would not have invited her if he did not like her.  Then I asked the question that nagged me since the phone call earlier in the day.  “Mom, why did you tell your friends I was throwing you out?  You know I am not…don’t you?”  Tears coming down she pulled her head down.  She answered: “I guess this is hard for me and when I told them that…they kept asking why…I didn’t know why…and I got tired of the questions so ….”  She couldn’t say it.  Instead I finish the sentence “so, you told them I kicked you out.”  Yes was the answer.  I didn’t need to say anything more except that I reassured her I would not do that and that all was well.  I assured her that I would make sure she was packed and be on time and not miss her plane.  I assured her that I would go right to the gate with her and make sure she was on the right plane.  I also would pack a roll of our toilet paper so she would have it…just in case my brother would forget.”

 

I realize that day, that although my mother suffer physical injuries from her fall….she also suffered emotional injuries from it.  She had become vulnerable.  She could fall again, or something worst.  That

when it was prestigious to go out to California for the winter it now didn’t make sense to go out east, how could she explain it to her friends.  Therefore her cover up for not living on her own was coming to light.  Her dignity was injured.  She was fighting for her purpose in life and had no idea how to do this.  So it was just easier to get her friends off her back and become a victim…they could understand that…they could fight for her not aware that the target was those who care the most.

 

We were able to face her fears.  She got on the plane as promised and she was smiling as she walked down the loading gate to the plane.  Whew!  That was a learning experience for me.  I drove home thinking of everything that happened and how I needed to remember when things go out of control there must be a reason.  When I got home I felt compelled to call my brother and let him know where her pills were and a few other things.  As we talked and I rambled on from one item to another….he soon calmly replied…”It’s ok, I can do this.  She will be safe.”  I was embarrassed.  Of course he can.  We said our goodbyes and hung up.  At that moment, I burst out crying.  My purpose had changed.  All of a saddened I was the vulnerable one.  I was astonished with these feelings.  Then I remember another book I read and smiled.  I had handed over my caregiver duties to someone else.  My purpose did change…and it was alright.  My mom was safe.  My brother was able to do this.  And if need be…they can figure out which toilet paper she likes on their own.  In the meantime, I needed to order the pizza.

By nature, I tend to “research” whenever I find a new idea, work opportunity, craft, recipes etc.  I enjoy learning and I am not afraid to find information.  My jobs as an adult day services director lead me to all sorts of research.  Part of that was also for my benefit.  One such subject was our support group.  It is important to walk in the shoes of a caregiver, but they also want you as the support group facilitator to be an expert.  At that time, I was walking in their shoes…but I was no expert.  So I found books and read them, highlighted them, re-read until I had somewhat of an idea of this life as a caregiver.  It was still new to me personally as well as a facilitator and each new situation posed an opportunity to learn.

My mother and I had been living in a town house (after my mom’s fall and my return home)  for a number of years.  My mother was becoming physically stronger and no longer needed her cane.  She had her friends to socialize with and she was doing well.  I was struggling with my “duties” and our relationship.  But I was learning what it meant to be a caregiver.   With my mother getting better, she was returning to the “wanderlust” she so enjoyed before the fall.   The difference was that my sister and I only lived two states apart and now my sister was not too keen in having my mother stay with her as before.  But I had a brother out east who wanted my mother to come out to live with them for a few months.  He felt honor to have his mother around so his children could really get to know her.  He also wanted to help in her care and be there for me, give me a break.  I was excited.  And so I thought was my mother…to be with her son and his family…to see his new home and enjoy time with them.

As preparations advance and tickets were bought my mother seemed to enjoy buying new clothes and presents for the grand kids.  She always, baked Swedish Coffee Bread for my brothers and she started working on this as well as knitting for everyone.  I was planning my time as well.  No, not parties…but just the fact that I would be able to do what I wanted and when I wanted.  I was looking forward to that day the plane would take off.  I even was planning my first meal alone-pizza with all the toppings.   I was excited.  All was going smoothly, or so I thought.

I got a phone call at work one day.  It was a woman that I recognized her voice but could not place her at first.  She was upset and excited which threw me off.  Something about “how could you!”  “After all you work with elders…you should know better.”  “Your father would be so disappointed with you.”   I thought it was one of our caregivers but could not understand why my father was mention.  It was not one of our caregivers, instead it was one of my mom’s friends.  I calmed her down and asked her what she was referring to.  She said she was upset that I was throwing my mom out of the house.  WHAT?  I asked her to repeat it again.  Then I asked her where she heard it from.  She said my mother was crying and told them how bad I was to her by throwing her out.  I have no idea what the lady said after that, I was just astonish.  I was totally thrown off the train and laying on tracks with the sound of the train coming for me.  I got my senses under controlled and thank her for alerting me to my mom’s feelings but assured her that I was not throwing my mom out.

The drive home from work was long and bewildering.  Where did my mom get this from?  She was excited about going to my brothers.  She loved to travel.  She enjoyed visiting family.  She enjoyed new places.  This was before 9/11.  Before TSA lines.  What was going on?  What have I done??  Then I remember from one of my many research books, that at times an elder will feel overwhelmed and say or do things that they would never have done before.  The book gave an example of a son who with his father’s request (due to the diagnosis of dementia) to help him with his checking and bill paying.  All went well until one day the father yelled at him in front of friends claiming the son was stealing from him and he needed a lawyer.  The son needless to say was destroyed.  After the outburst and some time to calm down he was able to determine that the father’s good friend (a banker) had asked why he had not seen the man for a while and only saw his son at the bank.  The father was embarrassed and did not know how to explain that he had dementia and was afraid of what people would think…it was easier to claim his son was the problem.

I remember when I read that story I thought it was a bit too much.  How could they do that?  Here the father asked the son to help.   Then another example of a woman accusing her husband of stealing from her – hiding things from her when in reality she was forgetting where she put these items.  She did not want to acknowledge her memory was fading.  Loss is hard.  As we get older assumptions are made.  Elders are push to hide the truth from themselves or others.  It is easier to blame someone else.  The reality is harder to accept.  I am not saying everyone with memory problems will do this….but it does happen.  I felt blessed that my mother was not like that.  Until this happen.  It can happen to anyone.

On that drive home I prayed for guidance on how to deal with this.  The one advantage I had was that my mom did not have any memory issues.  But something was wrong.  Something was out of place.  For both our sake I had to figure this out before she left.  What a terrible feeling to have and I did not want her to think I was throwing her out.

When I got into the house, my mother was upstairs.  Her suite case was on the bed and she was folding some items to place inside.  I could see that some of the items were out of place for the weather…but I was more interested in how I would start this conversation.  My mom seemed to be in good spirits so I thought I would just jump in and ask her how she was feeling.  Good she answered.  Was she excited about the trip I asked.  Yes, she answered.  I then started to talk about how excited my brother was about having her come and the things she had planned and then all of a sudden she yelled out with tears in her eyes….”what kind of toilet paper will they have?  It won’t be like ours.”  Taken a back, I reassured her that they had the same brand I would be happy to call my brother to make sure he would buy it for her if they did not.  Then I asked if anything was wrong.  Wiping her eyes she said no.  I asked her if she was afraid.  No.  I asked her looking at her items for the suit case if she felt overwhelmed.  At that point the tears came down in buckets.  She tried to explain that nothing would fit.  That we would not make it in time to the airport.  That she would forget something….and it went on and on until I finally stopped her and calmly reassured her.  We sat there for a few moments as she caught her breath and wiped the tears.

I realized then that all those questions were normal questions we all have but are able to stop ourselves from allowing them to take over.  We normally will place them in proper order in our mind and instead weed out what we don’t need to worry about and work on the true items.  My mom use to be able to do that.  But as I sat with her on the bed, I realize she could not at this time.  I asked her if I could help her decided what to take.  She agreed and soon we were going through her choices.  I could see that pattern.  Items she wanted to wear and show my brother family she looked good in even thought they would be too hot or cold for the weather.  Or an something they bought her for Christmas the years before and felt she wear it out there.  We narrowed it down and soon were able to pack all the items she needed.  Her mind was back on a decision mode instead of emotional.  Things were falling into place.

She thanked me for helping.  Then looked at me and asked:  “What if they don’t like me?”  Her eyes welded up.  She looked so fragile.  I answered by telling her that he is her son…of course he will like her.  He would not have invited her if he did not like her.  Then I asked the question that nagged me since the phone call earlier in the day.  “Mom, why did you tell your friends I was throwing you out?  You know I am not…don’t you?”  Tears coming down she pulled her head down.  She answered: “I guess this is hard for me and when I told them that…they kept asking why…I didn’t know why…and I got tired of the questions so ….”  She couldn’t say it.  Instead I finish the sentence “so, you told them I kicked you out.”  Yes was the answer.  I didn’t need to say anything more except that I reassured her I would not do that and that all was well.  I assured her that I would make sure she was packed and be on time and not miss her plane.  I assured her that I would go right to the gate with her and make sure she was on the right plane.  I also would pack a roll of our toilet paper so she would have it…just in case my brother would forget.”

 

I realize that day, that although my mother suffer physical injuries from her fall….she also suffered emotional injuries from it.  She had become vulnerable.  She could fall again, or something worst.  That

when it was prestigious to go out to California for the winter it now didn’t make sense to go out east, how could she explain it to her friends.  Therefore her cover up for not living on her own was coming to light.  Her dignity was injured.  She was fighting for her purpose in life and had no idea how to do this.  So it was just easier to get her friends off her back and become a victim…they could understand that…they could fight for her not aware that the target was those who care the most.

 

We were able to face her fears.  She got on the plane as promised and she was smiling as she walked down the loading gate to the plane.  Whew!  That was a learning experience for me.  I drove home thinking of everything that happened and how I needed to remember when things go out of control there must be a reason.  When I got home I felt compelled to call my brother and let him know where her pills were and a few other things.  As we talked and I rambled on from one item to another….he soon calmly replied…”It’s ok, I can do this.  She will be safe.”  I was embarrassed.  Of course he can.  We said our goodbyes and hung up.  At that moment, I burst out crying.  My purpose had changed.  All of a saddened I was the vulnerable one.  I was astonished with these feelings.  Then I remember another book I read and smiled.  I had handed over my caregiver duties to someone else.  My purpose did change…and it was alright.  My mom was safe.  My brother was able to do this.  And if need be…they can figure out which toilet paper she likes on their own.  In the meantime, I needed to order the pizza.