First it was my stomach. The tell-tale sign that something is bothering me. Usually I acknowledge what ever that is and things go back to normal. Now it’s my sleep. That’s never good. The last time I remember having this kind of insomnia is when my Godmother died.
Thing is, mentally I’ve acknowledged it. Talked about it with Linda. And yet, I was watching TV news at 4am this morning.
It’s my mom. She’s old.
I know, Duh! She is 85. But all my life, she’s never been old. But our trip to California, spending 24/7 together, really brought it home to me.
I got to see how much she’s slowed down. I mean, she’s usually slow when we’re together, but I figure she’s tired from work or whatever. She’s not. She’s just slow.
Her memory is sliding. Jill was in town last weekend and we were helping her go through things at the house (her mom is fine). Jill had talked about wanting a piano music box on her mom’s piano a while ago. A couple weeks ago, we went over to look for something for Jill’s brother (who has moved away). We found the music box and decided to leave it where it was until Jill came into town. Last weekend, no piano. I am certain we agreed to leave it there. But mom went back once alone to look for something and apparently picked it up and took it home. But she does not remember doing so. Thankfully she found it (only after Jill left). But she does not remember taking it.
I can say something and not a minute later she says the same thing. She’s not heard me. I don’t know if that’s because she isn’t listening. Or if I just speak in a decibel she can’t hear. Speaking of which, the most common word I say to my mom is, “What?” Because I can’t hear her. She’s always talked low, but it’s getting worse.
The other day I told her I needed to run to the Apple store to get a flash drive or something to back up my iMac. I talked to her about a friend she knows who also has Macs and decided to wait and talk to Sally first before buying anything. We went to eat and as we left she asked me why I wasn’t going towards the Apple store.
Even Jill mentioned on Sunday that mom’s “losing it.” It’s one thing for me to see it, but for someone else to notice . . . it makes me feel like it’s worse than I am allowing myself to believe.
Frankly, I don’t know what to do. I am really struggling with it. I’ve always hoped that when the day came, she would just die. No lingering disease. That one day she’d lay her head down like her mom did and go to sleep.
God tested me years ago when mom first got cancer. I didn’t know how I would handle it. Now I know I can. I just don’t want to.