. . . keep rolling. Sometimes, for a twinkling, they stop.
As many of you know, I’ve been doing mom-care for a long, long time. It’s been a rollercoaster ride, to be sure. It hasn’t been easy, especially these last two-plus years, where [more] health and mental issues have developed and intensified.
Recently, the dementia kicked in, rather full tilt boogie. It’s frightening to listen to, sad, traumatic. Not for the person experiencing it, of course; all is fine in his/her world, and that is undoubtedly a blessing.
Unfortunately, almost simultaneously, the osteo-arthritis decided to do a full tilt boogie as well; my mother could barely walk . . . until she could not walk at all. Frequent falls began.
There was no option but to bring her to the hospital to see what was happening. There, the dementia evolved into delirium, something that apparently occurs when older people are in such a setting. Elderly patients struggle to convey information, ask a question, play with imaginary items, remove their robes, cry and/or cry out repeatedly. For those who are visiting—family and friends—it is disconcerting and heartbreaking.
The time has arrived where my mother must now enter a long-term-care facility and that will happen once a bed is found. It will be challenging/tough for both of us—me to see someone who enjoyed and embraced life move to a new “residence” where she’ll be primarily bed-bound, and her because she won’t be returning to a home she knows and loves.
With time, she’ll likely forget about that . . . as she will me. The wheels of time, for her, will simply cease rolling. With fall, comes winter. With life, sadly but inevitably, comes death.