My visits with mom now feel more like a “spot-checks” than visits. The good news is that she is finding enjoyment in the community events (or at least more interested in them than a visit from me most days) and I won’t pull her from something when she is engaged. The medical team has mentioned this several times. If the doctor comes to visit and my mom is in an activity, she will refuse to leave and tells him to return when the activity is done.
That level of thought and conversation are rare for someone in her later stage of vascular dementia. She moves in and out of this stage and has some days where she just doesn’t want to get out of bed or can’t put a sentence together. But when she’s on, she is still quite witty. I’m seeing less and less of witty mom.
I’m having to address some other health care issues like an ear infection and some suspected basel-cell skin cancers that need to be removed. Now that she is in a wheel chair, it’s quite difficult to get her to the appointments and the waiting room stay can be difficult to navigate because mom doesn’t want to wait on anyone else, but it’s still manageable.
We were hopeful that mom would get out of the wheelchair but her fall a few weeks back has dampened that glimmer of hope.
The periods of little hope and all care management are emotionaly difficut for me. I want to pull back, but know I need to continue to advocate for mom. I’m still trying to navigate hospice services, her community care services, external medical appointments and keep it cohesive and within the parameters of her wishes. It’s so easy for the medications to escalate or an issue to linger.
You know you are on a tough journey, but want to have something positive to look toward. I had accepted this decline before, but when she fights back you still want to celebrate the victory. Then you realize she unknowingly is fighting to extend a quality of life she wasn’t interested in living. I work to find the bright moments to make this long, hard path tolerable. Maybe when I visit tomorrow I will find witty mom and we can share a laugh. Hoped.
Your efforts help to make each and every day as lived as it can possibly be. Brava to you and your Mom.
I am going through a similar journey with my mom, though her mind is intact her body is wasting away but not as quickly as she would like. I can relate to your feelings of hopelessness and looking for that silver lining. My mom still has her sense of humor, so grateful for these small gifts. Thank you for sharing your experiences, you are helping so many other caregivers just know that they are not alone.
Thanks Joy. It helps to know I’m not alone.