I went to visit Mom early in the day last week. I am truly impressed with the care she is receiving.
I would have to say too often we are critical of those who care for our loved ones and far too seldom we let them know we appreciate what they are doing.
Mom had slept in that morning. Kind of a-typical for Mom as she had always been an early riser. But then lets face it, Mom isn't really Mom any more. So when I arrived staff members were getting Mom dressed for the day.
It takes a lot of patience to have to help someone who can't remember how to pull on pants. It takes a lot of patience to have to repeat over and over again: "Lather your hands, rinse them off, dry them on the towel." We do it with our children, but Mom is chronologically far from a being a child.
Breakfast had already been served, but they were setting a place for her at the table and were getting ready to bring her to the table to eat.
No one was grumpy or cross about the added work. They were accepting and concerned with her comfort.
One of the aides said to me, "She looked so peaceful and comfortable sleeping this morning I didn't want to disturb her."
When Mom moved into the nursing home 14 months ago, she was confused and could not remember a lot of things. . . simple things like how to set a table, or how to measure 12 cups of water into a pot to make humming bird syrup. But she was able to dress herself, take care of her own personal needs in the bathroom and could join in during craft sessions.
Today she can do none of those. It's not because of neglect. It's not because she is depressed. It's simply the progression of the disease. We have been told she still goes to craft sessions, but now she is one of the residents who sits and watches rather than participates.
But the staff is accepting and works to make her as comfortable as possible.
For many months Mom attached herself to the activity aide at the home. Mom would follow her around throughout the day. The aide told us how Mom liked to help get things ready for tea parties and generally seemed to enjoy helping out. Mom doesn't do that any longer either.
She has become needy and clingy. Which is okay. I understand her missing us -- even though she can't fully comprehend who we are -- and not wanting us to leave after a visit.
But when Mom attached herself to the aide and made it difficult for the woman to go home at the end of her shift, I was surprised at the aide's reaction.
She told us, "I hated to see her so upset, so I called home and said I would be a little late. I sat with your Mom until she fell asleep." That is kindness. That is caring. That is compassion.
Do I wish I could still care for Mom at home? Absolutely. Do I still feel pangs of guilt for having her move to a nursing home? Of course. Could I take care of Mom twenty-four/seven? Not a chance. My sisters and I know our limitations. We know the limitations of our families.
We are grateful there are those who are capable and can do it with love, kindness and patience.
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