Life as a dog

2010 (c) Shelly Stotts Photography, used by permission

Living with Mom (she has Alzheimer's), I can quickly, without warning, find myself in the dog house.

Last night, she accused me of "not liking her," and that if I wanted to get rid of her, she could go live in a nursing home.

At the time, I had NO IDEA what was going on in her mind that brought this up. It really doesn't matter. To try to untangle an Alzheimer's mind is just impossible. I find clues sometimes, but there is never any way to anticipate. Besides it would drive me crazy to try to circumvent all the possibilities. All I can do is assure her that I don't want her to leave and wait for whatever it is to pass.

That sounds simple, doesn't it. Well, its not. The minute I hear her say, "I have something to ask you?" Or "I'd just like to know....." my blood pressure begins to rise, and I wait clenching my teeth for that which is to come.

Mom doesn't realize how bizarre sometimes her thoughts are, because to her, they are real and she is right. I try not to argue, but when accused, it's hard not to want to talk her out of her perception by explaining how she has mis-interpreted things. Besides, it seems delusional to me, but to her, I'm the one that is delusional, naive, or forgetful. Who is right? Depends on your perception, doesn't it?

Another alternative is to just run and hide in the doghouse.

Oh well. Being in the doghouse is not such a bad place to be. Looking out on my little world from the confines of my little doggie bed, I find comfort in the fact that these episodes come and go and tomorrow, hopefully, I'll be able to cautiously sneak out from my "safe-place" and find laughter, singing, and joy. For now though, I think I'll just snuggle in.

Perception

Photo (c) 2010 Joaquin Aragon, used by permission

Perceptions paint colors of various hues on my day. Is the glass half-full or half-empty? Am I in a cave viewing only shadows, not reality itself? Or is the brightness of sunlight illuminating the dark corners of my mind so that I can see the dust particles floating about?

For years, Sundays were the busiest day of the week for me. I used my Monday(s) as a day to recuperate. My perception of Monday, therefore, is one of quiet, restful reflection about the upcoming week even though my life has changed. I do sympathize with those who must start their workweek and dread Mondays. I hear, "Yep, it was another Monday!" on social networking sites, meaning, all hell broke loose, or at the very least, nothing "seemed" to go right.

I often wonder, is it the anticipation that my Monday will be quiet and restful that colors my perception, so much so that no matter what happens on Monday, I tend to see it as positive? Is it contrariwise for others?

As I watch Mom cope with her own reality from day to day, colored by her perceptions, it was interesting to me to see that yesterday, Sunday, a day that typically, for years, filled her mind with doom and gloom, was actually pleasant, filled with laughter. She even started, at one point, singing in her mind "June is Busting Out all Over," after she asked me what month it was. What made the difference? For one thing, she didn't remember it was Sunday. To her, it was just another day, but one that, at least yesterday, didn't have thoughts of doom and gloom clouding her perception.