Umma Has Dementia
My phone rang and the caller ID identified my Mom as the caller. My first reaction to receiving her call is one of dread. Or maybe dread is too strong a word. It’s more like I need to brace myself for whatever my Mom will bring up in the conversation. But whatever the conversation will be, I know that it won’t be the kind of talks that we used to have before dementia started stealing her mind.
She still looks like my Umma; in fact, people always say that I’m her splitting image. In many ways, she is my hero. Her work ethic, her sensitivity to others’ needs, her sense of humor, her hospitality, her generosity, her desire to serve, all these characteristics made her the rock that held the family together. Now, with the onset of dementia, our family has to work to hold her together.
A typical phone conversation would go like this:
Mom: Hello?
Me: Hi Mom!
Mom: Is that you Jane? Why are you answering the call? I was calling your Dad.
Me: No, you called me on my cell phone.
Mom: Oh, let me have your phone number. I forgot what it is.
Me: You are calling me so you already have my number. Anyway, is everything ok?
Mom: No everything is not ok. Whenever I put my money somewhere, I can’t find it. I think your Dad is taking it. Or my Mother-in-law. She’s always poking around my things.
Me: Mom, Grandma died a long time ago.
Mom: Of course, I remember that. (Nervously laughing)
Me: Did you eat?
Mom: I can’t remember. I don’t feel hungry.
The thoughts that run through her mind seem to be always negative. Fear about losing things, complaints about the home health aid, fear about someone coming into her house through a hole in the fence. Her sense of reality is very shaky. And the reality that her dementia will only get worse with time, is something that is very daunting.
How can I find hope in this hopeless situation? I praise God that I can put my faith in God when He tells me “My grace is sufficient for you.” When the reality of the situation seems like there is no solution and things will only get worse, God gives me hope and gratitude. I praise God that her eyes light up with delight when I walk into her house. I praise God for precious moments when I can have conversations with her and I feel like I’m talking to my pre-dementia Mom. I praise God that I can give her a hug and tell her “I love you.” Before dementia, I felt awkward hugging and saying “I love you” because she always seemed uncomfortable with those acts. But now, she hugs me back and says “I love you, too”.
And she is still the same Mom in many ways. Even with dementia, she will attempt to cook for me when I visit. Even though I have to help her, I love the thought that she still wants to take care of me. And when I am about to leave, I see my Mom will still be rummaging through her purse to give me money. “Use it for gas!”
I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I choose to be thankful for today, knowing that God has my Umma in His caring hands. I know that nothing can separate us from the love of God, not even dementia.