Friday, April 14, 2017

Pink Cone Flowers

The art ladies came yesterday. We painted in acrylics from a picture I found on the Internet. Everyone's painting was different and fun. The ladies took their paintings home before I got a photo of them all together, but here is mine.
Mine was probably more realistic than the others, which is not necessarily a good thing. The original painting was more expressionistic. My ladies did great. Anyway, it was a fun painting.

On Wed. I took Mom to the doctor for a check-up. She is very healthy. I also took her to lunch and to have her nails done. She was fairly mean to me, but I had a better attitude, so we did okay. I'm getting pretty good at changing the subject and diverting her. Sometimes not. Sometimes it is easier to let her rant. Maybe that is less frustrating for her. Although, I thought we were going to get kicked out of the nail salon. Mom kept telling the pedicurist how to do her toes. The lady did not appreciate Mom's help. Then Mom launched in to how she herself  taught cosmetology, yada, yada, yada. Eventually Mom calmed down and let the lady do her job, and the lady became better with Mom. For a while there, I was for running out the door, but I stuck it out, and did okay.

At the doctor's office it was much the same with Mom telling the doctor why she has sores all over her face. She tells a story of how years ago a bucket of syrup fell out of the cabinet and hit her on the head. From that hit, she says that she has veins that run under her scalp and onto her face, neck, etc. and cause sores that ooze and dandruff and inch thick that she must scratch off. All of that is false and is from her mixed up thinking and dreaming, but there is no telling her any different. The doctor tried telling Mom that the sores would heal and be gone if Mom would just leave them alone. Mom told her that she herself was a cosmetologist and she knew...yada, yada. The doctor told Mom, "Well, I went to Medical school and I'm telling you...." I love this doctor. She is really great with Mom. It is sad there is no fix for the picking. It is just part of the dementia.

Mom's new kick (pun intended) is that she needs new shoes. While we were moving her to a new apartment a few weeks back, my sister asked if she could have some of the millions of shoes that mom has, but does not wear. Mom was so sweet - saying, "Why of course you can have them." Of course, I knew what would happen. Now Mom calls my sister several times a week wanting the shoes back. And now she wants to go shopping for new shoes. I figure I will take her next week so I can hopefully control the spending and keep her from buying high heels that are not appropriate for someone who has balance issues. Yeha.

I hope you don't mind my blogging about my mom. Sometimes it helps me to write these things out. Also, I want to remember things. And I want other people who go through things with their moms to know that they are not alone. I see things on TV shows more and more lately dealing with Alzheimer and dementia. They seem to portray people as sweet, but forgetful and lost. They have famous people on talk shows telling how their parent had/has Alzheimers and how they took care of their parent and all was hard, but peachy-keen. No one wants to talk about the anger and the depression and the difficulty in dealing with the disease. I love my mom, but I want to be up-front and realistic and hopefully helpful concerning my time with her.


Etienne said...
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Jo Castillo said...

Dementia is not a happy time. My mom went from the nicest, non cussing, lady in the world to being critical and somewhat mean like my dad. The doctors at the time said they weren’t sure she had Alzheimer's, but that she could have missed my dad so much that she assumed his style. She would yell at people walking by her room and say, “You S…… b…..h, come in here and talk to me!” She had always played the piano by ear and she would get furious if we asked her to play. Anyway, she was lost to the dementia and I feel for you. Your stories bring back memories of my folks and that is good. The sad times then bring back the good times. My mom just loved to laugh and have fun. She was one of nine girls on the homestead!

Bag Blog said...

Jo, I think part of Mom's anger is with getting old. She doesn't like it that she can't drive or that she needs to live with assistance. She can't understand what is happening to her. She wants to blame it on someone. She was always a fun person. I want to think of her that way. But you are right, my mom is lost to the dementia.

Green Acres said...

Maybe she needs to move up to a retirement village. That is, a place where everything is a golf cart ride away.

It's not like a nursing home. Go ahead and spend the money, as you can't take it with you, and the kids don't deserve it, ha.

Bag Blog said...

Green Acres, Personally, that sounds great to me. My mom lives in an independent/assisted living apartment. I doubt she could handle anything more independent.