Mom decided, earlier today,
that her roommate is her sister. She struck up conversations with her by her sister's name and, when her roommate went to the bathroom, repeated, several times, "Good-bye, [Mom's sister's name]," until I told Mom that her roommate was just going to the bathroom.
    Having been alerted to the resemblance by Mom's blip of mistaken identity, I see it, too. Same color of hair, pretty much the same facial features, same ironic voice. Her roommate is fine with the mistake, even secretly pleased, I think. I've made a mental note that I'll have to remember, after tomorrow, that when Mom asks where her sister is I can let her know where her roommate is and that will work.
    I got a chance to visit with Mom's roommate's son and son-in-law. They are both very concerned about her going back home to live alone...and both families (including wives and older children, as well as children who have moved on, married and begun families of their own) are also spread extremely thin what with keeping an eye on other Ancient relatives in the area and leading their lives. When I mentioned to the son-in-law that I was pleasantly astonished that his mother-in-law would be going back to her home and continuing her lived alone life, going on to say that I have a lot of admiration for her abilities and her spirit, he rolled his eyes and said, "Well, we do too, but none of us is sure, anymore, that that's the best situation for her since this fall." And so life goes with Ancient Ones. It occurred to me, fleetingly, that the hardest years of one's life on others are one's very first years and very last. At least she has a pack of family members looking out for her, some of whom will be there when she gets home and will take shifts staying with her for awhile until she either proves she's fine on her own or it becomes apparent that other arrangements will have to be made. She, herself, at this point, has no idea of the concern and circling of family going on about her. She would probably be indignant if she knew.
    Mom and I found a beautiful, peaceful riparian area close to the facility that is perfect for daily visits and maybe even daily reading-out-loud sessions, which is something we've only been able to do a couple of times at the facility, so close are the quarters, there. We toured the whole area. At one point we came as close as we could, by sidewalk, to the wash meandering through the area. I attempted to describe it to her since she couldn't see it sitting in the wheelchair. She told me she'd like to stand and see it, so I wheeled her onto the sod and supported her while she stood. I'm pleased that her motivation to stand up and look around has returned. She may not recover everything she was able to do the morning before her legs collapsed while in therapy, but her determination and her comfort at home should help her regain more of what therapy isn't able to address. I'm prepared for the possibility that her height of her strength, now, may be a bit lower than it was that morning. That's okay with me.
    In the meantime, escaping the facility, here and there, is just about the only thing that makes it bearable for her, and for me, as well. We're both troopers and I know we'll hang in "there" as long as necessary, but we're both looking forward to her coming home.
    Time to check the cooling machines, pack up and head back.
    Later.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 16:14   email  this post