For people with dementia the time of day the month in the year cease to have any meaning. When you are lost in the moment to moment segments of your life you can't really keep track of the bigger picture. When you factor in the monotony of institution living this is even more complicated. So it is with Mom.
Last night we got a gleeful phone call at 10:20 P.M. from my mother. Happy New Year! greeted my worried ear. In Mom's mind, it is now January and that was the thing we should be saying. I tried to convince her that Rosh Hashanah is still a month away and that the other New Year falls in the winter and that this is still summer. But, to no avail. Either she dreamed something and awakened at 10:20, or was lost in some thoughts of previous years--hard to figure what is really going on in her mind these days. I suppose I should be happy. At least she sounded okay and wasn't anxious or upset by her surroundings or asking about coming home.
Happy New Year, Mom!
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