Coming away from the nursing home on Thursday, I was glad we had come, even though Mum didn’t know I was there.
I had kissed her hands and her forehead, told her I loved her and said goodbye, the parcels and crossword books left on the table at the end of the bed.
I contacted both of my brothers, OB was hoping to visit yesterday.
I rang the home today and Mum has rallied. I was told she was much brighter and had had breakfast and her dinner with the other residents in the dining room.
I asked to speak to her and as we spoke, I felt I was losing her again. She said she hadn’t had my card, and didn’t know I’d visited (though Sis text me to say she had told her so).
She asked where we were living and I told her we had returned to Lincolnshire having found a small house we could afford. I apologised for being so far away again, but I would continue to write. She said she liked to get my letters, though Sis had told me she didn’t read them and that she read them to her.
I asked if she had seen my brother and she said no. She’d just finished her dinner but couldn’t tell me what she’d had, just that she was enjoying a cup of coffee now.
I’m hoping he did visit and it was a good one with her.
When I hung up, I was upset. My visit with Mum on Thursday was very precious even though it may never register with her that I was there. I had a text from Sis to say Mum was better today, but I’d already spoken to her by then.
I wonder if my sister appreciates how lucky she is to be able to visit as often as she does and share the good days.
I’m glad you gave yourself the gift of that visit, even though in many ways it must be a combination of pain and joy.
I’m glad I went. She’s my Mum and I could tell her I loved her.
And that is very good for the soul.
So sad… deepest sympathy. It’s a horrible thing to go through.
Thanks Steve. At least I know she is being cared for and nothing is left to chance. The home is clean and run by caring people. She is safe and warm, and at her age, that counts for a lot too.
Boy, I haven’t experienced that (yet) with my parents, but I would think it would mess with my mind..to have my own mom not know who I was.
It’s worse for my brother in NZ as he has no opportunity to visit and relies on phone calls. My Uncle, Mum’s younger brother, rings often too, but he can’t visit either.
I got upset because I’d write and get no reply, but then her dementia hadn’t been disclosed to me. So now I write knowing I’ll get no reply, but it doesn’t matter. I just want her to know I’m thinking of her.
So tough. Give yourself a hug.
Thanks Jane. I always made sure I gave mum a tight hug each time I saw her before she went into the home.
Lots of my friends around our age Di have this same experience with their parents. I was lucky in that my dad was lucid until the end. It didn’t make it easier seeing him decline as he did and I was fortunate to visit him every day I could until the end when he simply let go and I felt a sense of relief that the pain he suffered the last few weeks of his life was over for him.
I have some good memories of previous visits, and of course photographs. I am glad she has rallied, but I’m realistic. Hubby and I see it as Mum is resting to gain her strength for that final journey from God’s waiting room when my Dad comes to collect her.
I am glad we visited.
(((Hugs)) I can imagine that its so tough.
Mum sounded quite cheerful yesterday, so that to me is a good sign. I know there will be good and bad days and hope that perhaps we will be able to share a good day.
It is hard when you live so far away from your elderly parent. I couldn’t visit my Mum (I’d just had a major op and could barely walk to the bathroom, let alone face a 12 hour flight) but I did phone her. The end of someone’s life is so very hard to deal with, natural as it may be. Thinking of you.
Thanks Sci. We shall just continue to take each day as it comes.
It is all you can do.
This has to be tough. I am glad you got to have some time with her, even if it wasn’t one of her good days.
I’ve spoken with her twice since, and she was very chipper today, even if she did think I was my niece. There’s a letter in the post to tell her we got home OK.