Time and Space and Everything in Between

I think it's time for an update on our lives with Mum.

Since August of 2022, things have been going very well down in Virginia. Anna moved to stay with her in August of '22.  The idea was to live rent free, while helping to take care of Gamma, saving some money, and paying off some of her bills.  It's been a very symbiotic relationship, and Anna has done a tremendous job. They have done a lot of walking, dog training, outings to wild areas and conservatories.  They have had regular meditation sessions, and done painting together.  The jigsaw puzzles have not been so appealing to Gamma, but we keep trying.

  Gamma is losing her ability to converse effectively.  This is stressful for her, because she likes to stay in touch with her friends and family.  Fortunately, folks are doing their best to reach out to her, often. She is also not reading as much as she used to. Reading was always one of Mum's hobbies, but now she is struggling to remember what she has read.  She still keeps a book on hand, however. She is still enjoying her beautiful waterfront views, watching the birds, and frequent walks with Anna and Jala (short for Jalapeno, Anna's rescued pup).  She takes good care of Reese, her faithful cat, and enjoys her daily rum 'n' coke.  

Anna has had a sudden change in her situation, however, and is now planning a move back to Pennsylvania, where she has accepted a position with the State Park system.  This will mean lots of decisions to be made and lots of changes ahead for Gamma and the family. We would like to keep mum at home because, for the most part, she functions better there than anywhere else.  She also has a consistent caregiver who is working very well.  However, other than us moving down there  - or me moving down there, there really isn't a permanent option for keeping her in her own home.  The next best option is moving her to my home in Pennsylvania.  This presents its own set of challenges, not the least of which being securing care for her.  

Everything is temporary and everything is figureoutable.

 Mum's brother, Roger, died on March 9, 2023.  This is the first of her siblings to pass.  He had been in a nursing home for a few years due to having dementia.  After a fall at the nursing home, he was also found to have covid, a blood clot in his leg, and lung cancer.  Roger's treatment team decided not to take any life prolonging actions, but to start palliative care at the nursing home.  Martin and Jenny kept vigil, and were with him when he died.

In the moment, we decided not to tell Mum.  

That night, she called me.  She wanted to know about David (my dad), and what happened to him.  I spent a long time on the phone with her, retelling the story of Dad's stroke and his ultimate death at UVA on November 6, 2013.  Mum wanted all the details, including who was there, and how we all "coped" with what was going on.  Near the end of the conversation, she said, "I just thought of all this today.  I don't know why I thought about it today.  Unless something happened today..."  I was unprepared and speechless.  

The next day she called and asked similar questions about her parents, Fred and Ada.  She couldn't believe they had been gone for almost 40 years. Again, I recounted all the details that I could remember. There were more phone calls asking about David, Fred, and Ada over the next couple of days.  

To keep herself organized, Mum has always kept a calendar book; the kind with a month-at-a-glance on each page, and separate pages for notes.  She has transferred important dates to the book every year, dates such as birthdays, anniversaries, and death dates. When Anna moved in, I had asked her to do some reorganizing and purging of various books and documents.  Anna had gathered all of the calendar books and stored them according to date, up on a high shelf in the family room. Three days after she first asked about Dad, Anna had settled Mum down in front of one of her David Attenborough documentaries.  She went upstairs to start cleaning the kitchen.  On the kitchen table, Anna found the calendar book from 2013, opened to the month of November - the month and year that my dad died.   

On the fourth day, she was checking up on the same; asking about Dad, and her parents, and then spinning about other people... "Is there anyone else I should be checking on?" "No, I don't think so."  I was expecting it, but I was still stunned:  "And, what about Roger?" 

"Oh, Mum, Roger died."

"He did."

"He did."

She did have a few difficult hours after the news, but fortunately, it wasn't the spiral I had expected. 

Another interesting phenomenon happened when I went down to visit, and was finally able to get her together with Martin and Jenny on the phone.  Phone conversations are very difficult now, because, as I mentioned, she is finding conversations in general very challenging.  As a rule, I say very little, and merely provide simple answers to the questions she asks.  This seems to alleviate her stress significantly.  However, when she was on the phone with her brother and sister in law, the conversation flowed so naturally that it sounded almost "normal."  I have noticed this on previous occasions as well, when she has talked to her brother on the phone. 

The brain is a marvelous and mysterious organ.  I remain convinced that we can only scratch the surface with what we truly understand about the brain and all of its capabilities.  Also, for the record, these past weeks with my mum leave me fully convinced that the human spirit transcends time and space and even death, and we remain connected despite all of those perceived boundaries.