A drunken day of drab.

Hi Steve,

I hope you enjoyed your Thanksgiving weekend.  Did you go shopping?  YOU DID?! Are you NUTS?!  Nah, I simply cannot imagine YOU walking into the nearest Wal-Mart.  You probably pay somebody ELSE to go shopping for your Xmas gifts, or you order everything online and have it delivered.  Or, maybe you just give people a nice card and some money or a gift card?  Well, whatever you do, I hope that it was a nice weekend for you and your loved ones.

Today was my day to get rip-roarin' drunk.  This week has just been too much for me to handle.

Now, you should know that I have NEVER been drunk a day in my LIFE.  Seriously.  It's true.  I am not a drinker.  I don't do drugs either, and I've never smoked anything EVER.  I guess I'm a boring chick.  I just never felt the urge to do those things, and I know my dad was an alcoholic most of his life, so I didn't want to take a chance on falling into that trap myself.  (I know I could EASILY become an alcoholic...no problem....and believe me, there are times in my life when I have WANTED to slide right into it, head first, and just forget every ounce of logic and reason).  I have always theorized that most people have burned out a lot of their brain cells before they turn 30, which is why I find it difficult to have an intelligent conversation with people unless they are in their 60's or 70's.  That might be why I get along so well with older people, and cannot stand being around the 20-30-40-something's.

BUT...when a 90 year old woman with bipolar and Alzheimers gets a bit much to handle, well, some days I just NEED a drink.  Today was one of those days.

Whenever you do anything different in the life of someone who has Alzheimers, ANYTHING---no matter how small a detail---they will react in very different ways, from feeling upset, to suddenly bursting into tears for no reason, or turning combative, or stubborn and argumentative. You just never know what will happen.

Today started out fine, but the past couple of days, Florence was reeling from having so many people around in the house for Thanksgiving.  Now she's reeling from having nobody here but the 4 of us.  We expect these types of changes to cause some disturbance in her, but it's sometimes difficult to know WHAT to expect really.  I mean, it doesn't SEEM like a big deal to have people visit for a few days and then leave, but to an Alzheimers' patient, it's huge.  It is very confusing.  It throws the person completely off their bean.

So after she ate breakfast, I told her that Pete and I were going to take her and my mom both out and about for awhile, just to get out of the house and enjoy some fresh air and new scenery.  So she was heading back to her bedroom to get dressed---when she suddenly came back down the hall to say to me, "I have to go home first to ask my mother if you can take me somewhere."  I was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen and putting dishes into the dishwasher, so I just continued doing what I was doing, and rather hastily said to her, "Florence, it's okay. Your mother passed away a long time ago, so it's fine if you go somewhere with us."

Well, any other time when I've said those same words, it was never really an issue.  She would shake her head and say, "Oh that's right...yes, she did pass away, I remember now."  But, today, that didn't happen. Today, she looked at me in horror, she had the eyes of a teen-aged girl, and she suddenly collapsed in the nearest chair, and burst into tears.  "NOBODY TOLD ME MY MOTHER DIED!" she wailed. "WHAT HAPPENED? HOW DID SHE DIE?! WHY DIDN'T ANYBODY TELL ME?!"

I stood there, motionless and stunned, thinking, "SON OF A BITCH...WTF?!" because I truly was NOT expecting that reaction AT ALL.  I knew then that our little outing was suddenly screwed because she would be a mess for at least another hour or two until she calmed down and got distracted by something else and forgot about it.  But as I tried to think of something to say, Pete came to the rescue, and he sat down with her to explain what had happened to her mother, and when, and that she was there and helped handle the whole funeral and everything.  None of it rang a bell in her mind though, she didn't remember any of it at all.

When you're caring for someone who has this disease, you sometimes forget that they decline rather rapidly, especially at the end, and it is sometimes really hard to SEE when that happens, or know when it's coming.  This was one of those moments.

Any time this subject came up before today, she would remember, we would remind her, or she would correct herself before she said that her mother was still alive, etc.  She didn't even realize that she is 90 years old today.  Yesterday, she laughed when she told us she was 92, and we corrected her.  She said, "Well I sure FEEL like I'm 92 some days."  But today, she thought she was still a teenager, living in her mother's house, with her parents who were still alive.  When I just suddenly slapped her rather abruptly with the news that her mother died, it shocked her into a massive upset.

I never meant to do that to her.

I felt horrible.

She cried and cried, and was inconsolable for awhile, until Pete calmed her down and explained all the details about it that he knew, and reassured her that everything was taken care of, and that her mother loved her very much and that she did everything she could do for her mother, etc., because she kept wailing that "she was a bad daughter," and "I didn't get to see her before she died," and "who arranged her funeral," and things like that.  The truth is, she was an awesome daughter, she cared for her mother, and they had a very close bond.  She DID get to see her before she died, and she is the one who pulled the plug on her mother (who fell, hit her head on a table, went into a coma, and was brain dead soon after).  She also arranged the funeral and did everything her mother wanted to do in her will.

After telling her all these positive and reassuring things repeatedly, for nearly an hour, she finally stopped crying, even though she didn't remember any of it.  But, by then we were in the mode of "let's get you dressed and go out for awhile, to get your mind off it, and have a good day together as a family."

We finally did that, and she had an enjoyable afternoon shopping, and looking at all the Xmas decorations and trees in the stores that we went to.  By this evening, she didn't remember any of that, but of course, I DO, and I still feel badly about it, even though I don't want to bring it up anymore for fear that it'll happen even worse next time.

I feel like I'm walking around on eggshells all the goddamned time, I can't say certain things to her, or if I do say something, I have to say it a certain way, or bite my tongue and not say it at all.  It's a constant DRAG to try and figure out what to do, how to do it, or when, with her.  It's almost as if you are required to somehow read her mind, which is impossible of course, but it's almost like the disease forces you into trying to do that.  And the disease just laughs in your face because the odds are, you'll screw up. It's as if the disease deliberately sets you up to fail, and enjoys it immensely, even while you are lost in a misery so intense and deep, it makes you just want to say FUCK IT, and GET DRUNK.

Last night, as Pete and I sat watching t.v. around 11:30 p.m., she suddenly appeared in the doorway, with a very upset look on her face, and told us that she was very concerned "about the girl who was in danger, and she needed to warn her, because that man was going to come back again, and it frightened her."  (Or, something along those lines).  She couldn't really manage to get a coherent sentence out like that, all at once.  Bits and pieces, of what MUST have been a dream she had, came out sporadically.  She sat there for nearly an hour trying to tell us this important information that we had to know about, in order to protect that girl.  (we have no idea who the "girl" is, she couldn't remember her name, etc).  It was rather odd, to say the least, that she was so insistent on telling us about this "dangerous situation," and insisted that "we had to notify the authorities."  She just went on and on, getting more and more upset.  She couldn't tell us any details of "this situation," of course, because it wasn't REAL.

After nothing else Pete and I said or did consoled her about it, I finally kicked into reassurance mode, telling her that all the doors in our house are locked, we are safe, there is a policeman in our neighborhood a few doors down, and a fireman right next door, so we have nice neighbors who would be there for us to help if we ever needed it.  Then I suggested that we "let go" of this situation that was causing her so much upset, and "let God" deal with it.  We prayed, (she started to pray about it), but after a couple of sentences, she then she continued in this rant about this girl and what a dangerous situation the whole thing was, etc.

Alzheimers patients need a LOT of reassurance, they need to feel safe and secure, and loved, and wanted....because sometimes those unintelligible gibberish-filled things they come up with, are actually based on their innermost FEARS.  They are actually locked inside their own heads, like a prisoner, their bodies are tricking them, their brains aren't working right, and they are terrified because they know that something is wrong with them...but there's nothing they can do about it.  They don't even know what to ask, or how to verbalize their concerns about any of it, because they are living in a past memory world of things that are no longer real, or no longer happening, even though to THEM, it feels like it's happening right here, right now, and they need our help to figure out what to do about something that happened 60 years ago.

It is an impossible disease to deal with, while trying to keep your own sanity at the same time.

I finally lost my patience and told her, "Florence, God will take care of it, He will take care of YOU, He will take are of ME, and He will take care of that girl, and He will take care of EVERYTHING that we are unable to take care of ourselves, okay?"  That's when she finally resigned herself to going to bed.  "Remind me in the morning about this, and I'll have a more clear head so that I can tell you more about this situation," she asked.  I told her that we would definitely deal with it in the morning.  Then she finally went back to bed.

Of course, she didn't remember any of that in the morning.  But I do.  And it overwhelms me, and it frazzles me to the point of wanting to run far, far away from here, and never come back.

At 4:30 a.m., my mom woke up to noise on the main floor, came upstairs, found every light on in the house, and found Florence laying on the couch in the small living room.  She also wanders around a lot, especially at night.  I think she gets too much sleep probably, and just gets restless or bored, or confused, and tries to go find people.  Alzheimers patients wander a lot.  When she realizes that there's nobody around, she panics and turns on all the lights.  One time, I found her trying to use the phone in the middle of the night to call the police, to "report that she was all alone in the house and felt scared."

How does a 43 year old woman, (me) with NO medical experience, NO clue about 90 year old people or their bizarre diseases, and absolutely NO INTEREST in being a nursemaid, constantly DEAL WITH THIS SHIT without going CRAZY?!!

When we left her here the day after Thanksgiving with Pete's son Nathan, and 2 of his friends who came over, Florence apparently somehow just walked out the door, made her way down the long sloping sidewalk to the driveway, (without falling), got into her car, and sat there waiting for somebody to "take her home."  Nate called me, and said, "Uh, grandma thinks that somebody is coming to get her to take her home, and she wants to get into the car." (He did NOT tell us that she had left the house and wandered down into the driveway on her own).

Later in the evening, I found her pajama pants in the front seat, so when she did this, she had nothing on except for a pajama top and her Depends underwear!!  Nathan didn't bother to tell us THAT.  I'm tellin' ya, 20-something's are WORTHLESS.  I cannot STAND 'em.  Anything could have happened to Florence, in those 10-15 minutes that they weren't paying attention!!  I was so angry, I could have spit nails.  She could have wandered into the goddamned STREET and been hit and killed by a CAR.

So the concern and empathy is there, constantly, but at the same time, the RESENTMENT is there too, and the memories of every encounter, every conversation, every weird thing that she says or does, is always always always still THERE, in MY HEAD, all day, every day, and the tragic irony is, that even though I love her very much, and want to make her last remaining days on this planet happy ones, peaceful ones, with a good quality of life.....some days it's enough to make me want to blow my friggin' brains out so I no longer have to deal with her, or with her disease, or with any of it.

I feel all alone.  I have nobody else to really talk to about any of this stuff.  I don't know how to handle it.

It's always a brand new adventure, every day, sometimes several times a day, especially after her naps.  Oh yes, living with somebody who is bipolar AND has Alzheimers, is really quite a trip.  When she awakens from a nap, in her world, it's suddenly a brand new day, and she wants breakfast, even if it's dinner time. Or, like tonight, I told her it was time for her to take a bath, she said, "Okay, let me go put my shoes on."  I chuckled and said, "You want to take a bath with your shoes on?"  And she laughed, and said, "No, I guess that wouldn't be a good thing to do."

Then, when I had her all done, in her jammies, ready to climb into bed, I cleaned her kitty litter box, but when I came back from taking the garbage out, she was standing by her bed, putting her shoes on.  I said, "Florence, are you going to bed now?" She said, "Yes."  I said, "Well, do you think you're going to run a marathon in your sleep or something? Why do you need your shoes on to go to sleep?"  She stopped putting them on, shook her head, and said, "I guess I don't need them on while I am asleep, right?" I answered, "Right."

And at that moment, I felt annoyed, I felt aggravated, I felt helpless, and most of the time, day or night, on a regular basis----nearly 24/7 actually--I just feel like crying my eyes out.

It really is heartbreaking.

So........needless to say, today was a VODKA in the diet cherry pepsi day for me.

And a wine spritzer after the "Grinch Stole Christmas" stage play that Pete took me to this evening.

Now I'm feelin' mighty calm, somewhat fuzzy-headed, and ready to hit the sack.

I may have no choice but to become alcoholic from this point on.  It's just too much to deal with, too difficult, too overwhelming, horribly scary, and profoundly sad.

The holidays suck.  This might be her last Christmas. With her, or without her, I am a mess.

Bye for now.

Love, Rebecca