Yesterday I stopped by the Oaks to talk to the Senior Care Coordinator, Nancy--we talked about Mom, her care, my insecurity in my decision to place her there, my lack of support from my sisters, and the need for Mom to have a psychiatric consult. I expressed my concern over Mom's agitation, and inquired how I could best help her adjust, as I felt my daily visits were actually more upsetting to Mom than they are helpful. She set my mind at ease, told me that everyone goes through this uncertainty, that the first month is the hardest, and if I can "tough it out" for 30 days, Mom will adjust, and she will be safer and happier. We shared stories, as her mom is also suffering from dementia, we hugged, and I left, telling her I would keep in touch with the staff.
Today, after walking the dogs, I checked my voicemail, and there was a message from the chief nurse; she said to call her back so she could go over the medication plan for Mom. After my visit yesterday, I assumed this was just a routine call following up the psychiatrist visit, so I called back, half expecting to hear my mom was fine, just depressed, that she could come home soon, and that they had prescribed a new antidepressant. I have been in semi-denial for so long, nearly ten years, and no one in my family, not even my sisters, believed anything was really wrong, that I had serious doubts in my powers of observation. Maybe I am the one with dementia. Maybe I am crazy.
But when Clair came on the other line, and gave me the list of drugs the psychiatrist had ordered, and told me they were drugs specifically for Alzheimer's dementia and depression, part of me was relieved, but another part of me sank. I wrote down the drug names, and then looked them up online. "Oral medication used to treat patients with Alzheimer's disease..." and "for most patients, this drug will not result in a dramatic improvement, but it may slow the progression of symptoms." I thanked her for calling me, and then just sat there, staring at the words on the Alzheimer's Association site. Most common form of dementia...worsens over time...not a normal part of aging...no cure...no cure...no cure
This is not exactly a moment of celebration, and it is no fun being right this time. The worst part of today was I cannot even call my sisters to tell them I was right, and they were wrong. Because they will not believe me.
I am frightened, and scared, and freaking out a little bit.
God is sufficient. I will trust in him. But it still sucks.
No comments:
Post a Comment