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A journey of care giving for a loved one with Alzheimer's |
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For the past 91,929,600 seconds I have been the primary (and often sole) caregiver for my mom who has Alzheimer's. To save you the math, that's 25,536 hours, or 1,064 days, or 152 weeks, or 34 months - almost the equivalent of the time spent in college obtaining a bachelor's degree. In hindsight had I begun this journal at the beginning I'd have enough material for a book or possibly two or three books. But in reality, I had no words to write. I was grieving, deeply, for my dad who died from complications of cancer and heart disease in the beginning (and still). My grief was scattered, though, hidden in the folds of my pillowcase and under the hot water of the shower, carried to the icy waters of coastal Maine, the windy streets of Chicago, and the vast dark wilderness that is Alaska, and buried directly on top of all those words I used to write every single day. I was grieving, as well, for the loss of the life I once knew. My own home, my children, my husband, my shelves full of canned goods carefully put away from our extensive garden, my dining room table that we saved for for years, my old cat that died of grief in my absence, sleeping in on Saturday, baking pizza in the cob oven and eating in lawn chairs in the yard with turkeys and chickens begging for crumbs, hiking in the woods, milking my goat, ... all those day-to-day activities everyone takes for granted ... vanished in an instant. And then the grief for the living. The adopted daughter who succumbed to her mental illness ... my mother with Alzheimer's. And all I could do was stand and watch the hurricane unfold. I tried to keep writing. I enrolled in classes, I attended writing groups, I jotted down half-thought ideas on scraps of paper. I created mini-poems on twitter. I blogged, sort-of. I threw words at the bubble and hoped a few would find the cracks and leak out. Finally, I gave up. And yet, I didn't give up. I set priorities. When your mom can no longer bathe herself, remember her name, or pour a glass of water, a new chapter in the life of a fictional character takes a back seat or gets off the bus altogether. |
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