Living at Home - But Not Really

During her time in this apartment, I spent every day with her, from early morning, until after dinner. Two days during the week, my aunt would visit for an afternoon. Two days a week, my daughter would visit, with my other daughter arriving two or three days a week on her lunch hour and eat with us.

Most days, mom would watch TV - her old TV programs. I finally figured out that she watched that channel because she remembered the programs, and still knew some of the people in them. Some days, we took her shopping, which she enjoyed but we had to temper her shopping by removing things from the cart when she wasn't looking. It was senseless to buy things she wouldn't eat, and end up throwing out in the garbage. By the time we got to the checkout desk, she didn't remember all the things she'd put in the basket anyway.

Other days, we'd take her out for lunch, or to the park, sometimes, having dinner at our house, or for an afternoon at my aunt's house.

She was beginning to get used to the apartment, but still wanted to go "home". She was able to navigate on her own down to the mailboxes to get her mail, and down the hallway to the garbage chute. When it was laundry day I'd take her down to the laundry room while we did her laundry. But every day she'd ask when we were going to take her home, saying "this place" was very nice, but this wasn't where she lived.

One evening after I'd left her to walk home she called - I think I was in my own door no more than ten minutes before the phone rang. She wanted my husband to pick her up from "the hotel" I had "left" her in, and take her back the city. When he told her he'd be over in the morning, she cursed and yelled, and finally hollered that she would just take a taxi and hung up on him. By then I was in tears just listening as I stood beside my husband.  He looked at me, swore loudly (and he's not a cursing kinda guy), put on his coat and drove over to mom's alone.

When he got back he said she had on her winter coat (over her nightie) with her purse in her hand. She was waiting for the taxi which would never come. She had not called a taxi, though she insisted she had. He helped her out of her coat, took her into her room and tucked her up in bed with the TV tuned to her favourite westerns and a cup of tea. She was asleep in 10 minutes.

That began the "much quicker than expected" descent into the worse stages of alzheimers.