Episode 53 - Memories light the corners of my mind

I've long been known for having a good memory.  Sometimes I'm kidded about it...  sometimes I'm called upon to remember something significant.... and sometimes  it's a curse.  I think this was passed on to me genetically from my Dad.  I recall his once saying:  "September 15.  Nineteen years ago today we put in the shower stall at the old house....  I took a shower and went to a Booster Club Meeting."  At that moment, I knew where I 'got it' - and there was probably no escaping it.  I was destined to remember trivial, non-essential information, which battled within the confines of my brain with the academic and intellectual facts that might have brought me worldly success... but the trivia won.

What, you ask, does this have to do with Life with Nana Mama's Mama?  This, I reply... is the curse.  In the aging process, we all get more forgetful.  My memory certainly isn't what it used to be, and I readily admit when I can't remember that  "I don't have a clue."  On the other hand, if I'm certain of something... I'm willing to die for my cause.

Mom didn't share Dad and my "gift".  She was so busy all of her life juggling her many interests and activities - she was lucky to remember what day it was or where she was to be at a given time.  She lived by her calendars.  One in her purse and another on her office wall.  Things have changed drastically now - and most of Mom's days are pretty much the same.  We keep the white board in the kitchen up to date so she knows what to expect, but that deals with the present.  When it comes to the past, Mom has very different memories.

For instance, we have four Snuggies - those lovely 'armed' blankets.  Several times she has remarked about the one she had when she lived in D1. 

Me:  You didn't have a Snuggie Mom.

G:  Yes I did.

Me:  Not until you moved here.

G:  I did too.  Several of us shared it at the complex.  I don't know what became of it.

Me:  I cleaned out your apartment, there was no Snuggie... but we have plenty for you to use.

G:  But I had one.  I know I did.

And then there were the slippers.  You may recall a couple months ago, our buying her a couple pair of slippers.  She's been wearing the moccasin style ones since the day we brought them home.  Yesterday she insisted she'd had them for years.

DH:  We bought you both of those slippers.

G:  Not these (holding up the moccasins).

Me:  Yeah, we did.... bought them both at the same time. 

G:  I've had these for a long time.  I don't even remember where I got them.

Me:  We got them for you... at Walmart... a couple months ago.

G:  I wouldn't mind another pair.

One day she commented about a sweater she had on.

G:  I thought I'd wear this today.  I know I wear it a lot, but I like it.

Me:  It looks very nice.

G:  I think my mother gave it to me.

Me:  No, Grandma didn't give it to you.  I think Darlene did.

G:  She did?  I don't think so - I think my mother did.

Me:  Nope.  Grandma's been gone a lot longer than you've had that sweater.

This last conversation occurred during Thanksgiving week, when our kids from Kentucky were visiting.  Our daughter-in-law (DIL) is a hospice chaplain and visits patients daily, in their homes.  She says visiting us (Grandma) is sometimes like being at work.  A while after the sweater conversation, she and I were visiting (out of Grandma's earshot).

Me:  It's just really hard to have the same conversations, over and over.  And I don't know where she comes up with some of her memories....

DIL:  One of the women I work with went to a seminar recently dealing with dementia.  They recommend just agreeing with the patient unless to do so would endanger them.

Me:  I've heard that before - it's just so hard when you're living in reality and they're living in fantasy.  It's frustrating.

DIL:  I'm sure it is for you, but the subject might be dropped easily by agreeing.  Like when she said her mother gave her the sweater, you might have said, 'perhaps she did.'

The DIL didn't say it to me ... but I have said it before,  "It is the kinder thing to do."  I thought I was kind... but I prove myself wrong time and again.

We returned to the living room.  The conversation turned to the dogs (a subject on which Grandma is a self-proclaimed expert).   Grandma reported that Sammy was downstairs sitting in my Dad's chair.  (My Dad has been gone nearly 30 years, his chair slightly less).  "That's nice,"  I replied.  She changed the subject to Thanksgiving and how "when she was having coffee with the girls" someone had said such and such.  (Mom doesn't have coffee with anyone but us)  "That's nice," I replied.  I looked at my DIL.  Is she taking note of my kindness?  Does she see how I'm 'letting it go'?  Does she sense my blood pressure rising?  No.

Kindness is not always what you do or say.  Sometimes it is what you don't do or say.  I'm not a poster child for this virtue, but I'm trying.  The stress so often associated with the holidays is self-imposed because we try to create beautiful memories for our loved ones.  My loved one has no trouble creating her own.  My job is to let her... to keep her safe and happy, because...

"That's nice."

So ends Episode 53