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My MIL is in the final stages of Alzheimer's. She doesn't always recognize us; sometimes she is unresponsive. The doctor insisted on seeing her this last week, and even he was shocked by her rapid decline. He saw her a month ago, and she was walking with help, talking, answering appropriately, and appeared alert. This time we wheeled her in, and she could barely stand long enough for the nurse to weigh her. The entire visit she sat in the wheelchair moaning and groaning. She kept saying, "I want to go home." We're no longer sure if she is speaking literally or metaphysically.
This decline has finally made it clear to my DH that his mother is dying. It has hit us hard, especially since he is an only child. He is doing all he can for her, but it really isn't making much difference. All we can do is try to keep her comfortable, and we can't tell whether she is or not.
DH is going through years of paperwork, making final arrangements, and dealing with the providers, all of which is stressful to the extreme. It is amazing the things you can discover about a person you thought you knew well. MIL was always a very private person; if she had her faculties she would be furious at the invasion of her privacy.
MIL liked to go to garage sales, and her favorite item to look for was stuffed toys. She would buy them from kids, and make sure they got the money. She had thousands of them in her garage, all sorted into bins and carefully stored. Many were brand new, with the tags still attached. I have spent the last three weeks going through them one by one, sorting any stained, soiled or ragged ones out to send to Goodwill, and the new and clean ones were donated to a children's charity for their Christmas giveaway. We donated several kitchen trash bags full. Each child was given a chance to talk to Santa, then was allowed to pick their own stuffed toy. We are told that the toys were the main attraction, and that each child went away happy. We also donated some bags to local fire and police stations to give out in domestic situations. I think MIL would be delighted at the distribution.
We also had to remove most of her clothing from her room, to make sure she had the kind of things she can still wear (nightgowns, and a sweatsuit for going to the doctor.) I found bags of beautiful lingerie, much of it still tagged, that will go to my granddaughters after Christmas. They are about the same size as my MIL. She had lots of lacy stuff. We still have about 7 large bins to go through, and haven't even touched the clothes hanging in her closet.
I had been reading Ami Simm's blog (www.amisimms.wordpress.com) dealing with her mother's Alzheimer's struggles, and am saddened by the news of her mother's death. Her story parallels ours in so many ways. We know what is ahead; we just don't know when.
I have to admit to mixed feelings. It is hard seeing her suffer (and I believe she is suffering.) I want her to be at peace. On the other hand, she is the only grandmother my sons have ever known; and although she and I haven't been particularly close, you can't care for someone day in and day out without becoming fond of them. She has been a part of my life for 30 years. Her death will make my own mortality that much more real. I find myself imagining being in her place, aged and confused, and it saddens me immeasurably.
When she does pass away, our lives will be forever changed. My DH wants to move us back to the area where we grew up, which would be wonderful except that it is completely unrecognizable. I know a great adventure awaits us, but I am a little frightened at the prospect. Sort of like the feeling one must get before skydiving, or shooting some rapids, or base jumping. Once you take that first step, there's no going back; the die is cast. You may have a bad experience or a tremendously fabulous experience ahead--no way to be sure until you go for it. It would be so easy to do the safe thing and stay the way we are. But DH has his mind made up, and where he goes, I must follow.
I may not post regularly for awhile, but I will try. Life is just in too much upheaval right now to plan ahead.
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2 comments:
I am sorry for what you are having to deal with. It's hard when things come down to this. I am sure giving away the toys were a great satisfaction and appropriate for Christmas. May you be blessed with her fond memories of the better times in life.
Thank you for your kind words. It did help to know that the toys made so many children happy. We are at the point where we feel that her death will be a release for her, and for us as well. We will miss her, of course--but we already do miss the woman she was.
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