Written by: Charlie Johnson
In this 5-part series, Charlie shares his experience with his mother and her journey with Alzheimer’s.
For caregivers responsible for a family member with dementia it can be a juggling act, trying to do what is best for your loved one while maintaining your own life and relationships. Everyone’s situation is different; however, it is all too common for caregivers to become overwhelmed and overburdened before taking the next step in the care of their loved one. For the health and well-being of both, make plans early. Don’t wait until it’s too late.
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I bounded up the three oversized concrete back steps, just like the thousands of times before, and opened the worn aluminum door. Stepping in I was quick to announce myself, “Mom, it’s Charlie. Where are you?”
“I’m in here.” She replied in a soft yet excited voice.
Headed toward the living room I did a quick glance to my left at the dog bowls under the south kitchen window to make sure he had food and water. Without stopping my stride, a double-take was in order, as cottage cheese filled the food bowl. Only a few steps further and my prize was found. Mother was sitting in her favorite worn-slick, swivel rocker with the fluffy, black-eyed, white dog in her lap.
The television wasn’t on. There was no music playing. It didn’t appear as though she had been reading. I wondered how long she had been sitting in that same spot.
“Hello, how you doin’?”
“Oh…I’m doing Okay.” She said while looking at me as if she was verifying it was indeed Charles Earl.
“Mom?” Asking with much inquisitiveness, “Does Pup like cottage cheese?”
She pondered for a little bit, “Well…he must.”
I explained that I had come in from the field to make her some supper. I asked if she was hungry.
“Well…I could probably eat…I’m not sure…Maybe Pup wants to eat.”
Proceeding to the kitchen, to the freezer section, I selected from the stack of frozen entrees, Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes. A quick read of the directions led me to the microwave for a quick unfreeze. While the steak and taters were coming to life, so did the sides of bread and butter and cottage cheese. I will have to say, the TV dinner with my additions looked and smelled pretty darn good. But it wasn’t the hardy farm meal she was used to cooking and eating; I wondered if she remembered making those great spreads?
Mom settled in at the kitchen table with her ready-made supper, fresh water, and a cup of hot decaf. I explained I would be back in a few hours for her nighttime medicine, but that I needed to get back to the field. Stepping toward the back door I glanced in the direction of the dog bowls to see Pup enjoying his supper of fresh dog food. Seems Pup was not a fan of Highland large curd after all.
As I took those old steps out and down, there was a flood of emotions and questions. What situation would I find when returning later? What were my next steps with Mom? What were my options? I wanted to continue to be the best son possible, but there were obligations to be a good provider to my family as well. I wondered how much longer I would be able to keep this up.
