No, I will not abandon you or leave you as orphans in the storm—I will come to you. (John 14:18; TLB)
My nightly routine includes an eight o’clock phone call to Mom so she can hear my voice before she goes to bed. Her memory, agitation, and confusion levels are much worse when she’s tired and sundowning. So it’s a beautiful sound when I can make my mom laugh during our nightly calls. It defers her from repetitively asking the same questions—“where am I living” or “why am I still alive.”
When she answers the phone, I try different accents or different greetings: “Mamasita-san, this is daughter-san Cheryl-san” or “Is thhiiiiiisssssssssss mmmyyyyyyy Maaaaaaaaaaaah-meeeeeeeeee?” or “Is this the mother to whom I AM speaking?” Her childlike laughter is soothing to me because I never quite know if I’m going to get Mother Jekyll or Mother Hyde. Today was an eye-opening reminder that laughter is truly good medicine.
When I picked up my mom for church this morning, she wore jeans and a sweatshirt rather than her usual black dress slacks with a favorite top. Even though I reminded her during our evening call last night about church, and even though it was marked on her calendar, and even though she asked the nurses what day it was, she did not connect up that it was Sunday church day.
Despite a rough start, church went relatively well. She recognizes people, but doesn’t always know their names. Before the service started, Mom and her friend Rosemary talked about Dad and his great sense of humor. Mom exclaimed, “Why did he have to leave me?!?!?” My standard answer has become: “Dad didn’t leave you, Mom. Alzheimer’s took him.”
When we got back to her assisted living room, she yelled and complained about a variety of things—she had only five dollars in her pocket, I had all of her money, she didn’t even have a loaf of white bread, and a why did Dad leave her. For the second time today, I reminded her that Dad did not leave her and that Alzheimer’s took him.
But this time, she got persnickety with me, said that Dad abandoned her, and is anxious to die and be with him. She said there’s no reason to live and nobody cares about her. I reminded her we moved 800 miles and left the rest of our family in order to be close to her—simply because she’s worth it and we love her.
In a scolding voice, she said, “Well, you don’t come over very much.” I reminded her that we call her every morning and every night, see her every Sunday, take her to all her doctor appointments, and visit her many other times—for birthdays, holidays, and just because, including visits to Dairy Queen.
She muttered, “Well, whatever.” I was hurt, guilt-ridden, and saddened. So I said with a smile, “But, Mamasita-san!!!!!!!! We have many laughs together!!” Her eyes lit right up as she said, “You DO call me. That’s YOU!”
“Yes, Mom. That’s me.” She doesn’t remember my calls, but she remembered the emotion of joy that my silliness spoke into her life.
We hugged over Mamasita-san. Mom’s agitation and confusion were diffused. For now.
For people with Alzheimer’s, they simply cannot remember phone calls, visits, and conversations. They live in their dark world of exclusion, convinced that no one cares because their reality says no one ever contacts them and that the world has abandoned them.
On the drive home today, I started thinking about what I learned from my friend and mentor, Dr. Tracy Kemble, regarding abandonment. For those of us who have struggled with rejection or abandonment issues, those issues have a trigger point that may have started in childhood or later. If we don’t deal with the root cause, we carry the pain of abandonment with us throughout our lives. Dr. Tracy used the example of a weed, such as a dandelion. We can pluck out the dandelion, and we can think that it’s gone. But, if the root remains, the dandelion will grow again. In order to heal from an abandonment issue, we need to discover the root cause and disable it. Dr. Tracy helped me walk through my root cause, and I experienced great healing.
Over the years, Mom shared personal information with me that could be the root cause of some of her feelings of abandonment. But in Stage Six of Alzheimer’s, she wouldn’t be able to process working through the root and experience healing. She couldn’t even process that, even though she was told it was Sunday, today was church day. There is literally not enough gray matter in her brain to make appropriately cognitive decisions. In both her actions and her MRI, she physically doesn’t have much brain capacity anymore. She has severe white matter disease.
Mom experiences tremendous from her storm called Alzheimer’s. Some days she gets a reprieve and stands in the eye of the storm. It still swirls around her, but she can live in the moment and be at peace. But as soon as she mentally strays outside the calm eye of the storm, the wind and the waves begin to consume her. She can never leave the storm—she won’t ever be able to stand on the shore again and watch the storm go out to sea. I’m grateful for those Mamasita-san times when her joy can be in the safe eye of the storm.
When she is consumed by the wind and waves, I remind her by words or by actions that Jesus said, “No, I will not abandon you or leave you as orphans in the storm—I will come to you.” By God’s grace, when in the midst of a storm, He promises to never abandon us and will come to us. As a caregiver, I rely on His promise to never leave me. That frees me to regift God’s grace to my mom.
I can’t heal her memory or the sadness of feeling abandoned. But my love won’t ever leave her as an orphan in the storm. I will continue to come to her.
And make her laugh.
©2015 Regifted Grace Ministry LLC
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