Saturday was a great day. We went into the city with our nieces and took the Water Taxi around New York Harbor in glorious weather. The youngest of the three just turned 21 and she’s working at Columbia University. We took them out for dinner after the cruise at a favorite eatery near the Seaport and had a really nice time.

On Sunday, Bob and I had planned to sail, but we got a really late start. One of our nieces stayed over, I got a call from a dear old friend and we weren’t ready to go until after 2:30. I had been planning to visit Mom and maybe introduce myself to her new fella. I even put on a dress. We would stop home before our sail so we could change and provision.

When we got to Mom’s latest place, one male resident was sitting outside in the summer heat with a family member. He gave us a friendly greeting. As we entered, Mom was asking one of the caretakers if Tracey had arrived yet. “I’m here now Mom.”

She turned to me and beamed. She was nicely made up and looked good. As we completed our hug, I was approached by one of the caregivers. Could she talk to me, privately? Uh oh.

We ducked into the tiny office and she handed me one of Mom’s eyeglass cases. In an inside pocket was a fold of bills. Over $300. Holy crap. She’s unbelievable!

“She knows exactly how much is there, so please tell her I gave it to you.”

I told her I absolutely would. She certainly didn’t need all that. Hey, what was going on with Mom and Alan?

“She prefers Frank* now.”

Huh? Really?

I must confess I was mighty disappointed, but not really surprised. How can anyone you just met be “unforgettable” when you have short term memory loss? I didn’t even want to know who the other guy was. At this point, Mom’s more fickle than a high school cheerleader, so whatever works for her is fine by me.

I showed Mom the money and told her I’d hold it for her. She said she’d need it if she went to one if those stores she liked. I told her if she needed anything, I’d make sure she’d have it.

A female resident shuffled over to our table. Mom warned me to remove my bag from her reach. This person is clearly much further gone than Mom, although she appears to be considerably younger. Mom alluded to the woman’s obvious need for a brassiere, but this was probably the least of her problems. She was downright spooky and, sadly, a harbinger of things to come.

Mom told us the place had an elevator that went up to all six floors. In my reality, the house has a staircase and two floors. She also said Julia Roberts had come by to visit her and told her that women have the same right to sexual pleasure as men. Nice of Julia to take time out of her busy schedule to advise my mother on her love life.

We wrapped up our visit telling Mom we were going sailing. Once we got to the car, Bob said he couldn’t sail. He was exhausted. He feels bad for Mom.

I asked him if he had any reservations about the place she was in, and he didn’t. It’s just tough to watch where she’s headed.

So home we went, holding fast to the great memories of the weekend, hoping to minimize the sadness of our latest visit to the land of the lost.

*Not his real name


About traceysl

Digital Artist, creative technologist, problem-solving lover of life. Having cared for my mother, who died on April 14, 2015 after a long fight with dementia, I have refocused professionally to helping others through my experience. I have started a company called Grand Family Planning to provide unique Family Support Services. In this way, I share my knowledge and give meaning to the tragic turn of my parents' journey through the misery of dementia.
This entry was posted in aging, caregiving, delusions, dementia, Family, life changes, psychosis. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s