"Last Times"

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about “last times.” For instance, because I will be moving from Buffalo to Meadville in August, I know that I’ve purchased toilet paper in Buffalo for the last time. Garbage bags too. Hmmm. But in some instances, you just don’t know when it might be the “last time.” The last time I made love with someone I cared about deeply, I didn’t know it was going to be the last time. I don’t know if the next time I pet my kitty or hug my mom, it might be the “last time.”


Life seems so tenuous, unpredictible, fragile sometimes. I’m starting to appreciate the little pleasures more now, be more grateful for the blessings I have – and I have so many! Good friends, great family, financial security, dependable car, food to eat, roof over my head, and some faith and hope that some of those “last times” are a ways off yet.

Here’s my plan: next time I pet my kitty I’ll pet her for an extra 5 minutes. And next time I hug my mom, I’m going to hold her a little more tightly and for a lot longer.

In her heyday

So, I have been reading (again) and considering replacing mom's regular tea bags with decaf, and her sugar with Splenda.  She drinks a lot of tea, and has been putting 4 or 5 teaspoons of sugar in each cup.  I think the replacements might help her to sleep better.  As it is, she wanders around the house most of the night, (which might explain why she "sleeps" in her clothes).

I came across this photo when I was home last, and had Rite Aid scan it in for me.  She was a looker, wasn't she?  Still is.

She loves me, she loves me not . . .

Well, another visit with the mom last weekend, and even more lessons learned.  I've been reading everything I can get my hands on about AD, but none of it so far has prepared me for the surprises that keep popping up my our lives.  The one I just don't know if I'll ever get used to is the one where suddenly she has no clue who I am.  Any attempt on my part to convince Shirley that I'm her daughter brings on a bout of anger and frustration on hers.  So, from this point on, I think I'll just try to be objective about "Kathy" when her name comes up and I'm the "unknown".  And I'll try to say good things about "her", even when mom doesn't agree that there is anything good to say.

After I put down yet another AD book last night, I kept thinking that no matter how hard this is for me, it has to be so much worse for Shirley.  I can't imagine how terrifying the journey down the dark road is for her.  To lose her friends, family, sense of self, to forget how to make a cup of tea or how to wash your own body.  To know that in the middle of the night, there will be scary men appearing at her bedside and to think that they want to hurt her.  Keeping scissors and knives under your pillow to battle these monsters. 

So, I will do the very best I can do to protect her from the scary guys and to help her with the daily tasks that overwhelm her for as long as I can.  I'll be the best hand-holder I can be.  Thanks for reading.