The Seasons of Alzheimer's: Remembering Mom

By Katy Ellefson

In the afternoon, we went to the Salvation Army warehouse to help wrap gifts for children in need. Mom and I enjoyed our afternoon. I put Moms hand in place to hold the paper, and I would hurry to get the tape on before she lost grip.

Mom repeatedly asked, Who are the presents for?

I repeatedly said, They are for children and families in need.

Mom was happy all over again.

On the way home, I decided to stop at the health food store. I only needed a couple of items, and there was a parking space close to the store. Mom said she was too tired to go in and wanted to wait in the car. I agreed, and it would be quicker for me to go in alone. She was buckled in her seatbelt and hadnt yet remembered how to unbuckle it. I was confident Mom would be fine. I locked her in the car and told her I would be back in five minutes.

I grabbed the items I needed, peeked out the window, saw Mom in the car, and proceeded to the checkout. There was one customer ahead of me. Checkout went fast, and I rushed out to the car. Mom was gone! I panicked like never before. I wanted to scream. My mind raced. What should I do? Should I call the police? I cried, Where did Mom go?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781512778946

Katy Ellefson

Through the years Katy enjoyed a variety of jobs. She worked as a chore girl, nurse’s aide, machinist, welder, paper control clerk, truck driver recruiter, telemarketer, receptionist, accounting assistant and secretary. Perhaps her most challenging job was caring for her mother through the stages of Alzheimer’s disease. Now retired , Katy enjoys her favorite job, being a Mom and Grandma.

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Copyright © 2017 Katy Ellefson.

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 author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

WestBow Press

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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.

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All scriptures are from the KING JAMES VERSION (KJV): KING JAMES VERSION, public domain

ISBN: 978-1-5127-7895-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-7896-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-7894-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017903884

WestBow Press rev. date: 03/22/2017

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1    The Signs, 1997

Chapter 2    Reminiscing

Chapter 3    Facing the Truth

Chapter 4    The Move

Chapter 5    The Diary, November 2001

Chapter 6    The Diary, December 2001

Chapter 7    The Diary, January 2002

Chapter 8    The Diary, February 2002

Chapter 9    The Diary, March 2002

Chapter 10    The Diary, April 2002

Chapter 11    The Diary, May 2002

Chapter 12    The Diary, June 2002

Chapter 13    The Diary, July 2002

Chapter 14    The Diary, August 2002

Chapter 15    The Diary, September 2002

Chapter 16    The Diary, October 2002

Chapter 17    The Diary, November 2002

Chapter 18    The Diary, December 2002

Chapter 19    The Diary, January 2003

Chapter 20    The Diary, February 2003

Chapter 21    The Diary, March 2003

Chapter 22    The Diary, April 2003

Chapter 23    The Diary, May 2003

Epilogue

About the Author

To Mom’s grandchildren:

James Gordon

Jason Haskell

Rebecca Lynn

Elizabeth Anne

Sarah Louise

Brett Alan

Nicolas Ray

Emma Jean

Heidi Frances

And Mom’s great-grandchildren:

(Mikey) Marlen Wayne

Amanda Perl

(Katy) Catherine Grace

(Theo) Theodore Daemon

Amelia Louise

(Gabe) Gabriel Python

Elijah Coen

Magnolia Rose

Rachel Noelle

Johan Ellef

Bridger Nathaniel

Preface

I didn’t plan to take care of my mother when she could no longer care for herself because of Alzheimer’s disease. Nor did I plan to keep a diary. And I never considered writing a book. But I did.

My siblings—Nola, Becky, and Todd—and I noticed Mom’s memory loss starting in the mid-1990s. As the years passed, we had several family meetings, but nothing was ever accomplished. Mom was stubborn and independent, and though there are four of us children, not one of us could make a firm decision. Heaven forbid we might make the wrong choice. Instead, we did nothing but cling to the times that Mom did remember. And we tried to convince ourselves that Mom never had a great memory. We said, It’s not that bad now.

For years, Nola was Mom’s faithful companion. My older sister spent most of her days off work with Mom. They traveled together, shopped together, and attended family and church functions together. Nola witnessed Mom’s memory going from bad to worse. She tried to explain her concerns to the rest of us, but we didn’t know what to do. Nola kept on caring for Mom.

The months turned to years. In July of 2001, Nola remarried and moved to Oklahoma. All of our family was happy for Nola. She deserved a break from work and caregiving, and we were glad she had a husband to share her life with.

Since I was next in line, I took over with helping Mom. She went downhill fast after Nola moved away. I was able to change to part-time status at my job and went to see Mom two or three times a week. I brought her home with me for the weekends.

By October of 2001, Mom’s doctor told me what I already knew: Mom was no longer capable of caring for herself. I said, Then I will take care of her.

The doctor told me it would be too hard. I like a challenge, and that comment made me even more determined to care for my beloved mother. That day, I went home and told my husband, I’m bringing Mom home to live with us.

Marlin replied, Well, it needs to be done. If that’s what you want, you better do it.

When I first started caring for Mom, I learned that her behavior could change from moment to moment. It was too much to remember, so I kept notes to share with Mom’s doctor and my siblings. I thought I might find a pattern to this disease. I kept a tablet on my kitchen counter and wrote down the bizarre and not-so-bizarre behaviors.

After I tucked Mom in bed at night, I would review my notes and write the day’s confusion in legible diary form. As the New Year approached, the only thing I had figured out was that there was nothing consistent about this disease. There was no pattern. Every day was unpredictable. I decided I wouldn’t continue my diary.

But then, for Christmas I received a daily calendar. The date, a beautiful picture, and an encouraging Bible verse were on the front of each page. On the back of each page, there were lines, beautiful lines, for writing lists or notes. I knew I would never have a daily list for anything, but I thought I could use the lovely pages to continue keeping a written record about Mom. So I did. I continued to keep notes of our daily struggles, events, and Mom’s comments on the lines on the back of each page. I don’t remember who gave me the calendar, but I am thankful for such a timely gift—a gift that kept me, unknowingly, pursuing my future book.

After Mom passed away, I put my diary in an old shoebox and stored it on a closet shelf. Sometimes it came to mind, and I even tried to look at it, but it made me sad. I put it back in the old shoebox on the shelf.

Nine years later, we had to move. The house we shared with Mom was to be demolished to make room for the city’s flood-protection dike. As we packed our belongings, my diary became more important to me. That old shoebox was too flimsy for something so special. The next time I went to town, I purchased a little fireproof metal box for my special diary.

In July of 2012, we moved to a beautiful city in the Sheyenne River valley, Valley City, North Dakota. As I unpacked, I put my little memory box on a closet shelf in our new home. I didn’t think about it until two years later when I started waking up at night with my diary on my mind. After a couple of months of poor sleep—due to middle-of-the-night diary dreams—I got out my box of memories and started typing.

As I pieced together the notes from my diary I tried to stay true to the original language used in my writings. In some instances I found it necessary to add additional information to help tell the story.

It took me over two years, but my shoebox of memories is finally recorded in a book.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Dutton’s Valley Gallery of Photography in Valley City, North Dakota, for enhancing and digitalizing my old photos for publication and for obtaining copyright permission to publish the two professional pictures.

Thank you to Jill Gehrig and Heidi Barton and the staff at the Villa Maria Day Club program for providing Mom the opportunity to enjoy quality life and relationships in spite of Alzheimer’s disease.

Thank you to NDSU student Kelly Brendel for writing The Story of Frankie and for her sweet patience while interviewing Mom and me.

Regarding The Story of Frankie, thank you to my cousin, Pat Jensen, for helping me document our mothers’ growing up years.

Thank you to my sister Nola Meredith for helping me document our family history from the 1950s.

Thank you to my sister Becky Thompson for helping me document our family history from the 1970s and for her support. Though she lived 750 miles away, Becky was a vital part in helping me care for Mom. She was a phone call away, and if she wasn’t home, I could be confident that she would call me back as soon as she was available. And she visited in person when she could. We cried together, laughed together, prayed together, and encouraged each other as we traveled through the seasons of Alzheimer’s, caring for our beloved mother. As a nurse, Becky helped me wade through the medical issues. I could not have taken care of Mom without Becky’s help. To those who are contemplating caring for a loved one, I pray that—whether near or far—you will have a Becky at your back.

Thank you to my daughter Sarah Meester for her invaluable help with the final review and edit of my book.

Chapter 1

The Signs, 1997

After an evening out, I escorted Mom to the front door of her apartment complex. We hugged good night, and I returned to the car. As I buckled my seat belt, I looked up and noticed Mom was still in the entry. She had unclipped the outgoing mail from the letterbox and was examining each envelope. The well-lit entry and large side window provided a clear view of her. It wasn’t like Mom to be nosy. Was she looking for mail addressed to her? She had a personal mailbox for incoming mail, but she didn’t look in it.

As my husband, Marlin, and I continued the seventy-five-mile drive home, I thought about Mom and other uncharacteristic behavior I had ignored. At a recent family function, my daughter mentioned she had not been feeling well and her doctor could not find the cause. Suddenly, Mom emphatically stated, I know what’s wrong. Elizabeth has porphyria. Mom repeated this over and over with such surprise; it was as if it were the first time she had said it.

(Porphyria is a rare hereditary disease that Mom and her sister Violet endured in the late 1950s. Violet eventually died from complications caused by porphyria.)

We took Mom on a trip to Montana to visit my sister Becky and brother-in-law Denis. Mom wrote postcards to her friends. As I took her cards to the mailbox, I noticed some friends were getting two cards—some with the same picture and same message.

During another visit with Becky, Mom found a Reader’s Digest story she especially enjoyed. Every afternoon when Mom’s grandsons Brett and Nic came home from school, she told them, I read the most touching story about a dog. It made me cry. After the fourth day of hearing this same story, Brett and Nic questioned their mom, What’s wrong with Grandma?

Mom was a firm believer in women serving men. During a visit, Elizabeth and her husband, Larry, were surprised when Mom told Larry, Please turn up the thermostat; that’s a man’s job.

My daughter Sarah and her husband, Tom, also told me about a visit with Mom. She wanted to serve them lunch and proceeded to make toast. She repeatedly put bread in the toaster, turned it to the darkest setting, and burned the toast. Mom was bewildered why the toast kept burning. Finally, when she wasn’t looking, Tom turned the setting down.

My daughter Rebecca fondly remembers answering a phone call and hearing her grandma’s sweet voice on the other end, Oh, good. I remembered the right number.

Chapter 2

Reminiscing

In the following days, I pondered these incidents. I thought back to the early 1980s when Mom and I were watching a news program that featured a story about Alzheimer’s disease. It was the first time we had heard of it. Mom was troubled by that story, and it took a lot to trouble her. She commented how she would rather have any physical problem than a disease that would destroy her memory. I began praying that God would protect Mom, mentally and physically, from Alzheimer’s disease. Some days I prayed a long, agonizing prayer, reminding God how faithful Mom was. Some days it was a short prayer: God bless Mom. Other family members were also praying. With all the prayers, I was certain Mom was covered in good health.

Mom was the rock of the family and a faithful servant of God. She studied the Bible, she loved people, and she prayed for them. She was strong emotionally, physically, and spiritually. She enjoyed reading, word puzzles, walking, and gardening—activities that are supposed to strengthen the mind and body. Mom was not a candidate for Alzheimer’s disease; she was so strong, and I couldn’t imagine any disease attacking her.

When Dad died in 1987, Mom was her usual stoic self. She continued to live in the old farmhouse. She baked and sewed, volunteered at the hospital, drove friends to appointments, quilted for the church bazaar, and hosted prayer meetings and Bible studies.

In the fall of 1992, the farmhouse burned. While smoke billowed out of the attic and upstairs windows, Mom was in the kitchen making doughnuts. A neighbor drove by, rushed in, and alerted her that the house was on fire. Mom grabbed her purse, her Bible, and a bag of doughnuts for the firemen.

The house was one hundred years old and held a lifetime of memories and an attic full of treasures. By the time Marlin and I got there, Mom was sitting outside in a lawn chair as calm as ever. I wasn’t surprised when she reminded me, Oh, well. It’ll all go in the end.

After the fire, Mom moved to an apartment in a nearby town. She continued her busy social life. My sister was Mom’s faithful companion. When Nola was off work every other weekend, she stayed with Mom. Nola fondly recalls Mom’s delighted look as Mom would peek around the corner and, seeing Nola on the hide-a-bed, exclaim, Oh, good. It’s your weekend to be with me.

Nola was first to recognize that Mom’s memory loss was becoming more than casual forgetfulness. She also saw the need to get a power of attorney in place while Mom was agreeable. Nola called me, made the appointment, and we took Mom to have the papers drawn up.

Chapter 3

Facing the Truth

By 2001, we children could no longer deny that Mom had serious memory loss. She no longer made excuses for missing planned events and appointments—she had no recollection of making the plans she missed. To make matters more difficult, Mom’s doctor was still calling it normal age-related memory loss.

We were concerned about Mom living alone. We had several family meetings, but Mom refused to accept our suggestion that she move to assisted living. We never pressed the issue; Mom was too strong-willed.

We were also concerned that she was still driving. Thankfully, my brother took charge and gave Mom a driving test. Mom drove Todd the few blocks to the grocery store and parked, and they both went in to shop. It was a small store in a small town with just a few cars in the parking lot. Todd carried Mom’s groceries out and asked her, Where is the car? Mom had no idea. Todd took her keys, and she never drove again.

The summer of 2001, Nola remarried and moved out of the area. I began keeping watch over Mom.

Early in September, Becky contacted me to tell me that she had received a strange letter from Mom. There was no date, but on the top of the page Mom had written 10am on one side and 4am on the other side. In that letter, Mom wrote, You are dearest in the world to me. The enemy of our soul was out to destroy our relationship. I pray you can forgive me. I love you and have always loved you and pray we can get together soon. I can hardly write this morning, but I want to get this letter off to you. That letter was uncharacteristic for Mom. She had not been paranoid in the past, and she had not confused dates and times before.

In September, I received a letter from Mom’s clinic. It stated that Mom had been scheduling appointments but then not coming to them. I scheduled an appointment for Mom and assured the clinic staff that I would bring her. The appointment was a few days after 9/11, the horrific attack that generated twenty-four-hour televised news coverage for days. At that appointment, the doctor gave Mom a short memory test. The first question was, What has been the headline news the last few days?

Mom answered, Oh, the usual things.

He asked two other questions: "Where do you live? And can you spell world backward?" Mom knew what town she lived in, and she could spell world backward—but she was the Interstate Rural School Spelling Champion of 1937.

The doctor scheduled lab work, additional appointments, and a complete memory test for November 6. One afternoon while we were patiently waiting to see her doctor, Mom spied a large poster advising men to get their annual prostate exam. She read the poster to me and seriously commented, Well, I don’t have to worry about that.

Marlin and I visited Mom often. Occasionally we brought our guitars and shared a sing-along in the community room. In the past, Mom had invited all the residents to come and sing, and she would serve homemade treats. One Sunday afternoon, we arrived at Mom’s apartment, and the mess in her kitchen was unbelievable. Baking ingredients covered the counter, and there was flour all over the table, the floor, and Mom herself. There were a few pieces of chopped apple on a cookie pan in the oven. Thankfully, the oven was off. There was a ten-pound bag of sugar on the table, and Mom said, I’m out of sugar. I’ll have to go next door to borrow some. The mess and confusion shocked me. I told Mom not to worry about lunch and just come to the sing-along.

Marlin and I went to the community room to set up our guitars. A short time later, Mom brought the lunch: an almost empty two liter bottle of 7UP, two small glasses, and a bag with a few broken Oreos in it. I took the lunch, set it aside, and helped Mom to a chair. I had never seen her so distressed and confused. We got through a short sing-along, and then we went back to Mom’s apartment. I cleaned up her baking mess.

It was very hard to leave her. On the drive home, I cried, and I finally accepted that after all the years of begging God to protect Mom’s memory, my prayer would not be answered.

I started visiting Mom two to three times a week, and I would bring her home with me for the weekends. On one of my visits, I brought her a new radio to replace her broken one. I secured the dial on her favorite station. The next time I came, her radio was gone. When I asked Mom about it, she didn’t remember getting a new radio.

Mom’s decline, mentally and physically, was more obvious every time I went to see her. She was often lying on her couch, her Meals on Wheels dinners scarcely eaten.

One day, when I arrived at her apartment, the smoke alarm was screeching and smoke was pouring from the oven. Mom had put an uncut squash in the oven and set the temperature at four hundred degrees. I turned the oven off, cleared the smoke, and took Mom to her doctor’s appointment.

Mom’s lab tests showed that her hemoglobin was high and she had borderline kidney failure. Her doctor said, You need to drink more water. You need to drink, drink, drink. Also, Mom had lost three pounds.

I continued to see Mom every other day. Todd checked on Mom the days I couldn’t come.

November 6 was memory test day. Mom did not pass. Her doctor diagnosed dementia type 1, Alzheimer’s disease. Then he said, Your mother will not get better, and she cannot live alone.

I answered, Then she is coming to live with me.

The doctor skeptically replied, You may be able to care for her for a while, but it will get too hard.

When the doctor left the room, Mom asked, Have I done anything wrong? I assured Mom she had done nothing wrong, but her memory was so poor it was not safe for her to live alone.

Chapter 4

The Move

Marlin and I had talked about Mom living with us, but we had not committed to it. Now that her doctor confirmed that she could not live alone, I wanted to take care of her. I could not put her in a nursing home. I took a leave of absence from my job and prepared to move Mom to our home.

November 9 was moving day. We arrived at Mom’s apartment early in the morning. Mom had taken a couple of plaques off the wall and had taken some special papers out of her small safe. I asked if she remembered she was moving to our home. Mom was surprised and said, I’m not moving. I showed Mom the note from her doctor that said she couldn’t live alone. She asked, Do all of my children agree?

I replied, Yes, all of your children want you to be safe. Mom was okay for a while, and she even put some papers and toiletries in a sack.

As we packed Mom’s possessions, we found many bizarre things. Her billfold was hidden in the freezer. I found her new radio in the hamper—under dirty clothes and several pieces of mail. When I asked Mom why her new radio was in the hamper, she said, It was so nice. I hid it so no one would steal it.

Mom had saved stacks of small paper bags from her Meals on Wheels dinners. I used them to pack the dishes, and in one of the sacks, I found forty dollars. There was moldy food, dirty dishes, and rotten milk in the refrigerator. I was grieved and should have realized weeks earlier how serious it was for Mom to live alone.

Todd and his wife, Jill, came to help us load the pickup. Mom continued to question what was going on, and I continued to remind her that she was coming to live with me. When we got everything loaded and were ready to go, Mom insisted, I’m not going. I’m staying until tomorrow.

Todd replied, You’ve had your way for seventy some years. You can’t have your way anymore.

Mom angrily replied, Okay, and then!

It was dark and windy and raining when we finished loading Mom’s possessions. Marlin fastened a tarp over the pickup box and took off. Mom and I followed in the car. Mom was silent. Halfway home, Marlin stopped to tighten the tarp. I stopped behind, so the headlights would shine for him to see. The tarp whipped in the wind as Marlin worked to tighten the straps. I looked over at Mom. She was angry and asked, Where are you taking me? Why are you stealing me?

I told Mom, I am your daughter. I am bringing you to my home so we can be together.

Mom didn’t recognize that I was her daughter.

The rain was pouring down and I was crying. I looked over at Mom. She didn’t know me. She was angry and looked so scared. I thought—this is so hard, and we’re just beginning.

We got home at eight thirty. Though Mom had stayed with us several times, she didn’t recognize our home or her room.

We had a snack, and then I helped her get her nightgown on and tucked her in bed. Mom was quiet for a while, and then she repeatedly asked, Where am I? Is anybody here with me?

It didn’t matter what I said; she didn’t remember.

Mom got up at one o’clock in the morning. I heard her and got up to help her find the bathroom, which was next to her room. When Mom was finished in the bathroom, she stood at the door of her room and asked, Is this where I sleep?

I said, Yes, and I walked her to her bed and tucked the covers around her.

At three, Mom was awake again. She yelled, What’s going on here?

I got up and explained that she had to live with us so she would be safe.

Mom asked, Who decided that?

Again, I explained to Mom, Your doctor wants you to live with me because you have Alzheimer’s disease and you can’t remember how to take care of yourself.

Mom replied, Well, and then I’m good for nothing.

I cried and said, You are here because God has a purpose for your life—just the way you are. Your children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren love you very much, and we all need you.

Mom was so hard. She didn’t cry. She just expressed frustration and anger. Mom asked, Will you be sharing this room with me?

I said, I have my own room.

Mom harshly replied, Then go to bed so you don’t get cold.

Chapter 5

The Diary, November 2001

November 10

Mom woke up confident that she was in her own home as she told us, This is my house, but you can stay until you get a place of your own.

Marlin replied, This is my house.

Mom answered, If this isn’t my house, I’m leaving right now.

I begged Marlin, Please let Mom have the house.

It was quite a disagreement and not a good way to start this ordeal.

Marlin retreated to our office and looked up Alzheimer’s disease on the internet. After a while, Marlin approached me with a shocked look. We have to agree with everything she says.

So we did. We moved Mom into our home, and we moved into her world.

I helped Mom dress and fixed her breakfast. Marlin and I unloaded the pickup. I took Mom’s boxes to her room, put her clothes in the closet, and set a few of her personal possessions on a small table in her room. When I got her things arranged, I took Mom to her room and said, Mom, this room is just for you.

Mom didn’t talk much. She looked confused as she walked through the house. She spent time in her room. She ate a small meal for supper, and I tucked her in bed early.

November 11

Mom loved church, and we had two services on Sundays. Marlin and I led a service at the Manor—a senior and special needs apartment complex—and then we went to the Salvation Army service for our instruction.

Mom was happy when I told her it was Sunday and we were going to church, but when we got there, Mom realized it wasn’t her familiar church. She was upset and said, I want to go to my church with my friends.

Mom had been to the Manor with us before, and the folks there always welcomed her. This time, she didn’t remember anyone. She didn’t sing, even her favorite hymns, and Mom loved to sing. It broke my heart to see her so sad and dejected. I was sure that Mom would be blessed going to church, especially since she had enjoyed the services in the past, but she didn’t remember. I couldn’t make her remember or make her happy.

I cried, God, I can’t do this.

After the church services, Mom asked, When are you taking me home?

I reminded Mom, You are living with us now.

Mom asked, Who decided that?

Once again I told her, Your children want you to be safe.

Mom replied, I don’t like it.

Mom looked through her purse, found a card from Becky, and read it over and over again. Mom and Becky had communicated by letter and telephone for twenty-five years. When Mom looked at her card, she remembered Becky was her daughter, which brought her great comfort.

Mom asked, Does my family know what’s going on—and where I am? I assured her they knew. Mom said, So you got stuck with me?

I replied, It is a privilege to have this time with you.

Our evening meal did not turn out as I planned. The meat was tough, and the carrots had rubberized during cooking. The potatoes were edible, but Mom had it right when she said, If this is what I have to eat, I’m leaving this place.

I said, I’ll go with you!

I have never enjoyed cooking, and I am not a very good cook. I have a few recipes that turn out okay, but I was trying to expand my menu.

At bedtime, I was afraid to go to sleep. I was worried that Mom might need me and I might not hear her, but the night went well. Mom was up twice, and I was awake. I helped her find the bathroom and helped her back to her room.

November 12

Mom and I had a lovely day together. She remembered going to church and talked about how kind the people were. We listened to peaceful music and went to town to do some shopping.

At the first store, Mom was so slow. I wondered how I would ever get anything done.

At the grocery store, Mom insisted she was too tired to go in with me. She assured me she would be fine in the car. I was concerned about leaving her alone, but we only needed bread and milk. I rushed in, grabbed the milk and bread, hit the fast line, and was back to the car in record time—just like Mom and I used to do together.

We got home at lunchtime. After lunch, we sat on the couch and watched the cars go by on the interstate. We talked about people rushing to and fro and not taking time to relax.

This was an entirely different life for me. I was much more accustomed to rushing to and fro, and so was Mom.

Mom looked so lost and confused. She asked, Can I just peek around?

I told Mom, You live here now, and you can look at everything.

Mom asked, When am I going home?

I said, You are living with us, Mom, and we are happy and blessed to have you here.

Mom said, I had no idea anything was wrong.

I reminded her, You can’t remember to take care of yourself anymore.

Mom replied, Then I just need to remember that I can’t remember. Tears welled up in her eyes as she prayed, God, help me to accept your will and be good about it. Mom asked Will my children and grandchildren still want to see me? Will they still love me? Have I done anything bad? Can I see my children and grandchildren?

I assured Mom, Your children and grandchildren will always love you—and Jesus loves you and knows what you are going through. And you will definitely see your children and grandchildren.

Nola, Todd, and Sarah called. Mom was pleased to get phone calls, and she knew they were family.

At supper, Mom spilled her juice. She said, I better watch out or I’ll get evicted.

We laughed, and I said, No chance of that.

We had devotions and singing before going to bed. Mom got up a couple of times during the night. I was awake and made sure she found her way back to bed.

November 13

Mom got up, dressed, and came to the kitchen. She said, I feel like I’ve been on a trip and now I’m home. After breakfast, Mom rested on the couch. She looked peaceful.

We had lunch, and as we were doing the dishes, Mom looked at me. You are such a nice lady. How long have I known you?

I replied, Mom, you have known me since I was born. I am your daughter.

Surprised, Mom replied, I suppose I was so busy I forgot.

I agreed.

Later, Mom looked in the living room and asked, How did my couch and dresser get here? Does my family know where I am? Will they come to visit?

I said, You will see your family often.

Rebecca and Elizabeth called.

Mom looked at the same paper over and over and made the same comments. In the afternoon, she asked, When am I going home?

I reminded her, This is where you live now.

Mom replied, I had no idea anything was wrong.

Once again I told Mom about her memory loss and how she was not able to take care of herself.

She replied, I’m so glad you told me. I wish I could be on my own, but this is a good place to be. I want to accept God’s will and pray God still has work for me to do.

November 14

Mom woke up confused. What happened? Where am I?

I reminded Mom about her memory loss and went through the story again.

Mom said, I feel better now that I know what is going on. Do I remember my children and grandchildren? Do I have great-grandchildren?

I reassured Mom about her family’s love and told her about her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. I assured her they would visit.

Mom noticed a letter from our friend who was in prison. She immediately began to pray for him and remarked, That’s one thing I can do. I can pray.

In the afternoon, Mom was discouraged. I feel like a has-been with no future.

I said, You are very wise spiritually.

Mom prayed, Lord, help me accept this change. I know it will take time. I feel so crabby. I can’t accept this.

I told her, God has a purpose for your life—or he would call you home.

Mom replied, Then I am determined to serve the Lord.

After supper, we went to Bible study at the Salvation Army. On the way home, Mom said, It was good to get out. The folks are friendly there.

November 15

Mom had a good night.