It Happens Almost Every Day

Most people begin their day with the annoying sound of a clock radio or a buzzer to awaken them from their dreams. In my new life, I don't use an alarm clock, but frequently deal with the telephone ringing before I've had my morning coffee. The conversation is nearly the same each morning and it goes something like this:

Mom: Hi, Ann

Me: Hi, good morning--how are you today?

Mom--Right now I'm pretty annoyed--my ____ is missing--who would take that?

OR: I'm so unhappy and bored--I want to go home. I'm really tired of this place and I don't understand why I need to be here.

Me: If that top/nightgown/robe is missing, it must be in the wash.

OR: I know it's not easy to adjust but once you get going, you'll have a pretty good day--there's _______activity planned today ( I make sure to have the nursing home calendar handy so I can tell her what's on the agenda for the day)

Mom: I really think I should be going home--there's no reason for me to be here-- I had a good life and now I have nothing--this stinks!

This conversation is also replayed most evenings between 9 and 10 PM. because she doesn't remember that we talked in the morning.

I don't blame her for having difficulty adjusting to her new life; or for missing her old routine and being surrounded by her own things collected over a lifetime. I don't blame her for forgetting that we talked or visited earlier in the day or 2 days before. I don't blame her for lamenting the loss of most of her eyesight and the strength it now takes to face each new day.

I don't blame her for wishing for a different old age because I also wish things could be different.

Yet, I still hate to begin and end each and every day this way. I still feel as if nothing I do is enough to ease the discontent and loneliness. I still feel guilty for having plans or going on vacation or for wanting to have my morning coffee without this daily ritual. Then, I feel guilty for wishing it would stop--what am I really wishing for? Am I hoping her dementia gets bad enough for her to forget how to use a phone? Am I wishing for worse than that, so I can move forward with my own plans? It is an uncomfortable place to be. My job is not a good one--not one I would choose to interview for-- not one I wish on anyone else. Yet it is the job that I presently have and will have for the foreseeable future. So, I must learn to adjust to the new morning and evening ritual and take comfort in the notion that sometimes she just needs to hear my voice. Sometimes she really doesn't expect me to fix anything--she just needs to vent her dismay at an old age that somehow tricked her into being old. Sometimes she just needs to know that there's someone there to listen, and that someone is ME!