Losing Mom: A Daughter’S Perspective on Her Mother’S Journey with Alzheimer’S
By Cynthia Ryan
()
About this ebook
Author Cynthia Ryan offers a heartfelt glimpse into the experience of losing a parent to Alzheimers disease. She shares the realities and heartbreak of her mothers experience, one that was both enhanced and complicated by their complex mother-daughter relationship and family dynamics.
Shy and distant, but also independent, her mother didnt often find joy in the roles of wife and mother. The trials of a scarred childhood, marked by poverty and an alcoholic father, made true happiness elusive for her mother. On Christmas Eve of 2000, Cynthia started to see noticeable changes in her mother. A devoted grandmother, she had never forgotten to buy presents for one of her grandchildrenuntil that day. Whats more, she spent the day pouting, because the family was celebrating Christmas one day early. Over the coming months, her behavior grew increasingly erratic and forgetful; she became agitated more and more easily. Cynthia finally took her mother to the doctor, where everyones worst fears were confirmed: Alzheimers.
In this memoir, Cynthia shares their journey of understanding, forgiveness, blessings, healing, and renewed love. She celebrates her mothers life, even as it spiraled out of her control.
Cynthia Ryan
Cynthia Ryan is a wife, mother, and grandmother who lives happily in Livonia, Michigan, with her husband and dog. This is her first book.
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Losing Mom - Cynthia Ryan
Losing Mom
A Daughter’s Perspective on
Her Mother’s Journey with Alzheimer’s
Cynthia Ryan
iUniverse LLC
Bloomington
LOSING MOM
A DAUGHTER’S PERSPECTIVE ON HER
MOTHER’S JOURNEY WITH ALZHEIMER’S
Copyright © 2014 Cynthia Ryan.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:
iUniverse
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www.iuniverse.com
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
ISBN: 978-1-4917-1907-7 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4917-1908-4 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4917-1909-1 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013923163
iUniverse rev. date: 01/21/2014
This book is dedicated to
my mother, for doing her best;
my husband, for being my best friend;
my children, for being the best ever.
Contents
Preface
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1 Lost at the Casino
Chapter 2 Can You Hear Me, Mom?
Chapter 3 A Troubled Childhood
Chapter 4 Christmas Eve 2000
Chapter 5 The Chicken Dance
Chapter 6 Dr. X Drops the Bomb
Chapter 7 Are You Trying to Kill Me?
Chapter 8 Let’s Clean the Closet
Chapter 9 Constant Battles
Chapter 10 Cinderella
Chapter 11 But Today Is Saturday, and Tomorrow Is Sunday
Chapter 12 No More Driving
Chapter 13 Scheduling Mom’s Life
Chapter 14 Family Reunion
Chapter 15 Letters to My Brother
Chapter 16 Faucet Fixation
Chapter 17 There’s Stuff in My Soup!
Chapter 18 Dealing as Best We Could
Chapter 19 All about Me
Chapter 20 Church and Childhood
Chapter 21 Now What?
Chapter 22 Confusion Sets In
Chapter 23 Dad Loses Mom
Chapter 24 Alzheimer’s Confirmed
Chapter 25 In-Home Nursing Care
Chapter 26 The Damn Wheelchair
Chapter 27 Something’s Gotta Give
Chapter 28 Abandoning Mom
Chapter 29 Are You a Resident?
Chapter 30 Mom Has a Sense of Humor?
Chapter 31 Third-Floor Klepto!
Chapter 32 A Lesson I’ll Never Forget
Chapter 33 Beauty Image
Chapter 34 Coloring Books Make Good Babysitters
Chapter 35 Happy Mom
Chapter 36 Talking Gibberish
Chapter 37 Who Are We?
Chapter 38 Superstitions and Mom-isms
Chapter 39 Where Are You, Mom?
Chapter 40 Grandma and Babies
Chapter 41 Mothers and Daughters
Chapter 42 A Son Is Born
Chapter 43 Visiting Mom
Chapter 44 The Great-Grandchildren’s Visit
Chapter 45 Entering Year Four at the Facility
Chapter 46 Mom Breaks Her Hip
Chapter 47 Mom Goes Home
Chapter 48 A Gift from God
Afterword
Appendix
Preface
I never intended to write a book.
Once my mother became noticeably ill, I began keeping a journal. For some unknown reason, I felt it important to document her behavior, along with our conversations and the medical information collected.
One year after Mom’s passing, I gathered my four journals, along with copies of letters written to my brother, planning on reading through them and then burning it all. My symbolic way of letting go, I guess. I laughed and cried for hours going down memory lane, reading about events I had already forgotten. When the last page was read, I could not bring myself to burn any of it. I felt I’d be destroying something beautiful, something that might be useful to anyone going through what my family had been.
This decision to write Losing Mom awakened a surge of creative juices, often making it difficult to write as quickly as my brain was thinking. Yes, I wrote my entire manuscript by hand! Putting pen to paper for hours on end was exhilarating, emotionally exhausting, and even healing. I rarely scheduled any writing time, allowing it all to simply come to me. Unfortunately, that occasionally happened at the worst possible times. Who knew I could brainstorm during sleep, causing me to awaken for a two- to three-hour writing session before going back to bed.
Once, while walking my dog and thinking about how to relay a very emotional event, the words came flying out at me in a rush, causing me to repeat them over and over again, out loud, until returning home thirty minutes later, where I could finally write it all down. And while driving to pick up some groceries one day, I realized I had no clue how I had gotten to my destination or what I may have left in its wake because my mind was on my writing. From then on I made it a point to pull over and park as soon as my brain began to reel, so I could write down what I needed to before safely being on my way.
On the completion of writing Losing Mom I was telling a neighbor about my endeavors. Up until that point I had pretty much kept my book a secret from most family and friends, as I was uncertain what I was going to do with it. Publish it? Keep it for myself? After listening to me describe what Losing Mom was about, my neighbor replied, I can’t wait to read it! My mother is showing signs of dementia, and I want to know what I’m in for.
That comment was like a gift from God. It was an assurance that I was doing the right thing, sharing Mom’s story, my family’s story, and by sharing would possibly be of some help to others who have a loved one who is ill. That is truly my intention.
I took creative license in my writing, as I wasn’t always certain of exact dates or chronological order. However, Losing Mom is Mom’s story and my truth, as best memory will allow.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my husband for putting up with my craziness. He often made it quite clear that the love and pride he felt for me far outweighed anything I put him through while writing my book.
Thanks go to my son, who called, literally crying, after reading my first draft of Losing Mom, insisting I share happier moments with my readers, as my book was far too sad. Great advice!
To my daughter I owe many thanks for sharing her computer skills, as I am terribly technologically challenged and computer illiterate!
(PS: Thanks for not laughing when I asked what PC
meant.)
Special thanks go to my siblings, for allowing me to share portions of their lives.
And finally, to my dad, thanks for just being you.
Chapter 1
Lost at the Casino
We decided to take Mom to the casino. My sister, Marcia, and I felt that perhaps the stimulation of the sights and sounds would be good for her. Even more importantly, we wanted to give Dad a much-needed break from the caregiver role he so willingly took on. Let’s face it, taking care of a loved one with Alzheimer’s can be hell on earth. There is no simpler way to describe it. Yep, Mom had Alzheimer’s.
Marcia and I agreed that one of us would have Mom in sight at all times. This way we too could have a little gambling fun instead of simply trying to babysit Mom. We plopped her down in front of a slot machine, put in a ten-dollar bill, and showed her which button to push. Having loved her Vegas trips over the years, Mom quickly fell into the rhythm of the gambling frenzy with a huge smile on her face. Marcia and I felt confident all was well and decided I would be the first to wander off in search of my own big win. So for the next couple of hours we took turns sitting with Mom, actually getting peeved that she continued to play on her original ten dollars, while we went through all the money we brought!
When it was getting time to leave, Mom announced she had to use the restroom. Hang on a minute, Mom,
I said, I’ll go with you.
Both my sister and I turned to gather our things, including Mom’s winnings—yes, I said winnings, on ten bucks!—and when we turned back to where she was standing, she was gone. Gone! In seconds, gone, just like the toddler whose mother turns her back for a millisecond, Mom was nowhere to be seen.
Marcia and I grabbed each other, shouting, rambling, blaming, and swearing. What do we do? What do we do?
Then Marcia said, Oh my God! Dad will never forgive us for losing Mom!
Well, that broke the tension. Marcia was more concerned over what Dad would think of us rather than the fact that we lost our seventy-five-year-old mother, who just happened to have Alzheimer’s. The absurdity of it just cracked me up, and I started laughing. Then my sister was laughing, and soon we lost all control, hanging on to each other with tears running down our faces, and didn’t even notice Mom standing right beside us. She startled Marcia with a tap on the shoulder, asking, What’s so funny?
It took us a full minute or two to pull ourselves together and to put Mom back together, as for some reason she had gotten into the habit of unbuttoning her blouse whenever she used the bathroom. Just one of many Alzheimer’s quirks
with which we would learn to deal.
Welcome to the world of Alzheimer’s. Even though this event was somewhat comical, Alzheimer’s is anything but. It is the epitome of ugliness. Not only does it affect the unlucky soul who is afflicted, but also his or her entire family and circle of friends. This disease causes pain, frustration, fear, anger, resentment, and guilt. It will destroy everyone in its path if you let it, not just the person it attacks.
Early on, my sister and I learned we had to develop an almost lighthearted acceptance of Mom’s illness or surely we would have lost our minds. And anyone with a loved one who is ill knows you cannot lose it. You cannot afford that luxury. You must always be in control, or at least learn to fake it well. You cannot be weak or in denial. You cannot give in to the power of it or walk away from it. You must dig deep down inside and pull from your very soul the compassion and patience and strength you never knew existed—all in the name of love. How does one do that? For me, it was my faith. The power of belief, the power of prayer, is what kept me going, and I believe it was what enabled my family to survive (somewhat) intact.
Chapter 2
Can You Hear Me, Mom?
Mom was in her early seventies when we began to notice slight changes in her behavior. Not just what was typical for someone of her age, such as forgetting names, dates, and times, but forgetting much more important details. And, oh, the misplacing of things! Mom became accusatory when she couldn’t find something and often blamed Dad for hiding it from her. "Son of a b! Your father took my purse again." Mom never actually said the b word, just b, something my siblings and I often teased her about. Just say bitch, Mom, and get it over with,
I once shouted at her, for which I received the look.
Everyone knows what the mom look
is. Mom also believed Dad was taking her money, so