How much of me is me?

When we moved mom into the new community, they warned us about her teacup collection. They were worried that residents would be attracted to the cups and saucers. My mom has a lovely collection that has been in her primary living residence for at least the last two decades. I wasn’t moving mom in without them. We also left on her rings. My mom didn’t need anymore changes and we felt the symbols of her possessions were worth more than protecting them from loss.

When they called last night to tell me there has been an accident and a resident knocked one of the display shelves off the wall, I wasn’t surprised. However, I was somewhat alarmed. What was someone doing in her room at 9:45 PM? My mom is usually asleep by 7:30 PM and her PDA leaves at 8:00 PM.

When we first moved mom, my sister mentioned that I should ask for a locking door. I asked the first week and it dawned on me that I never got an answer. Today I was told they won’t put locks on doors for residents that can’t remember how to open locked doors, could my mom do that? I am not sure.

As I’m looking at her cup collection, it dawns on me that a few missing cups won’t really change the collection. She will still have something to look at. However, it makes me envision my mom as the collection. How much of her is missing now?

I recently posted my internal struggle with how to manage mom forward and consider the options in front of us. The slogan “If I’m not me, I don’t want to be” rattles in my brain. I don’t think we have the right options, but I really don’t know how you would measure “me-ness.”

My mom doesn’t recognize me on most days now, but she is pleasant when I visit. She would prefer to nap and eat cake, but I can’t really fault her for that.

I know a day will come when I visit my mom and no teacups are left. I will cross that bridge when I come to it and enjoy the collection that is left for me to visit. Foreshadowed.