This year my mom has been through a series of medical adventures that I must record so that I can keep it all straight in my head.
PROLOGUE
Over the past few years my mom has been descending into old-age-related dementia. She still knows who she is and who I am and has her long term memories of most of her life up to the past few years, but short term, she will have forgotten what you told her was in her right hand by the time you finish telling her what is in her left. She could ask what day it is several times within ten minutes, and then have to ask it again a few minutes later. If someone is in her apartment but not in the same room with her, she will forget that the person is in her apartment.
About five years ago she decided to not leave her apartment ever again. She had hurt her foot on the sidewalk and basically decided that it wasn't worth it to go outside any more. The dementia was creeping in, and at times she would lose track of where she was. She was acutely aware of this.
This meant that once a week she would ask me to come over and bring sushi from Balducci's for dinner and do her grocery shopping at Whole Foods. She was even kind enough to take me with her the first time to show me what to buy.
She would ask me to go through her mail with her. So I would open up every envelope and explain to her what it is and ask her what she wanted to do about it. For the most part they were fundraising mailings from non-profits, charities, political action committees, candidates, etc. Most got dumped but some she would contribute the minimum amount once a year.
There was also the statements from her banks and brokerage accounts. They all had to be reviewed and filed away. There were also the bills, all on auto-pay, but still needing to be reviewed and filed. And, of course, the rent once a month, for which i would write the check and she would sign it so I could mail it (using an address label sent by any one of the many organizations who send them in the hope that you will give them money).
And of course, the several magazine subscriptions and seasonally-issued catalogs. Sometimes she would even buy things from them!
When the COVID shutdown hit, she was actually rather proud of herself for being ahead of the curve, insisting on staying home and not going out for anything, which of course, however, meant that I had to do everything. Fortunately, I got vaccinated pretty early and was sure to wear a mask when going to my two essential jobs and when my work brought me in contact with the public.
As the months went on, though, I noticed that my mom was not eating as much as she used to. The bananas were turning black in the fruit bowl. The cartons of milk, bottles of kefir and V-8, and containers of yogurt were not disappearing as fast. Food that I used to buy for her regularly were simply not being cooked and eaten. Produce, like broccoli (crowns only, not the whole stalk), sweet potatoes (not too big, only the size of my fist), Amy's Frozen Organic Macaroni & Cheese which she must have been cooking regularly, because they were always on the shopping list, were all still there in her kitchen week after week, uneaten. The salad greens, pre-chopped stir-fry vegetables, and berries were rotting and getting moldy in the refrigerator. The leftovers of dinner one week would still be in the fridge for weeks after.
Things seemed to pick up when one morning she said she wanted to make a cheese omlette for breakfast. She got out of bed and went into the kitchen and, with my help, made that omlette. as the weeks went by, it became the thing to do. We made an omlette with cheese and ham or turkey and ate it for breakfast with stir-fried vegetables on the side. (my visits had become morning visits when I would get off work from my night job when my day job furloughed me).
After a while, though, it began to get hard to get her out of bed. She would just sit there or lie there as I asked if the wanted to get up and make a cheese omlette, say yes, and then not get up. Then, after a few minutes, it was like she forgot what I had said we would be doing, and would ask me what she was supposed to be doing at that moment. And I would have to say "cheese omlette." again and again as she would forget and ask, again and again, around and around.
I started getting her Ensure, which it seemed soon became practically what she was living on. I would need to get her two six-packs every week, at least.
I tried playing games with her, but it became difficult and frustrating for her, as I had to explain the rules every time it was her turn, because she had forgotten them already.
When making the omlettes, she would ask me what she was doing at every turn forgetting that the eggs she had broken were on the counter behind her, for instance, or at what stage in the preparing of breakfast she was.
Getting her out of bed to do things became an insufferable chore. She would say "yes" to every request and then do nothing. The asking and pleading and cajoling would go on as the minutes would tick inexorably away as I would try to get her to get up and do something while it was still early, or not yet late, or I had to leave. Even on the rare occasions when guests came over or we had an appointment or a holiday party to attend, between the unwillingness to get out of bed and the constant forgetting of what she was doing would make timeliness an often impossible objective.
It was in this condition that the first medical emergency hit.
NEXT: A pain in the arm.
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