This weekend The Siblings met to talk about how to proceed with my mother. The plan is for Cheryl and Carl to move in, Mom to sell them the house and use this money to pay for home health care when needed. My oldest brother and I plan to tour Carondolet Manor soon to see if it would be a good place for her way, way down the line. We are excited about Carondolet because when she was a nun she belonged to the Sisters of St. Joseph Carondelet.
She talked of this this weekend. She entered the convent in 1947 right after graduation. She was 17 years old. She wore a red dress with white trim and three white buttons. The style then was above the knees . She wore three inch black heels . She and a couple of other girls who were entering sat on the wall outside the convent each smoking a pack of cigarettes because they knew there would be no smoking once they entered. She hasn't had a cigarette since.
She left the convent several years later when she got in trouble for something that she only vaguely refers to- it is The Mystery. Mother Vivianne asked her what she was going to do about it and Mom answered, "I tell you what I am going to do about it, I'm leaving. Go call my mother to get me." Her mother was overjoyed as she hadn't wanted her to join the Sisters of St. Joseph anyway, throwing herself on the floor of Union station (the train depot) when she left for the convent originally.
Grandma didn't come to get her but sent her a train ticket. Mom had to come home in the same dress she entered in but now the dress styles were the Gibson Girl, hems to the ankle, so here Mom was in a red dress, her head shaved and wearing a coat borrowed from Sister Karen Joseph that was several sizes too small, tottering in her three inch black heels that by this time she was not used to.She was befriended by a soldier on the train who gave her his seat and bought her food to eat. She was very nervous because she hadn't talked to a man for a very long time. She was also very sad because by this time she regretted leaving the convent but she also strongly trusted in the will of God.
But that was all long ago. Long before she met my father and had six kids. Long before she got her nursing degree. Long before she went to Europe or divorced my father.Long before she began to forget.
I hope we like Carondelet because it would be like coming full circle. She said today (and every time I see her at least a dozen times) that she is very frightened she is losing her memories, that she is losing her mind. Today I reminded her that it means just living in the present and that she can trust God. She smiled, nodded her head and agreed this is true.
There may come a day she will forget the convent. There may come a day she forgets me. There may come a day she forgets God. But this does not mean that we weren't all there, are there now and at least one of Us will be there forever.
life is
1 comment:
Dear Annie Razz,
I have taken my own journey through Alzheimer’s with my father. It's a path that is filled with all kinds of terrible sadness, aching loss and sometimes, even rage. Why and how could this awful disease attack someone I love, and who lived a life of such integrity?
Alzheimer's doesn't care of course, whom it steals life from. And even though I was angry at the disease, at the medical establishment that hasn't figured out how to save people from it, at the feeling of hopeless anger it sparked in me, I also learned much through the process of walking that frightening path with my dad.
You touched on some of that when you talked about advising your mom to just live in the moment. It's so true. Living in the moment is all people with this disease can do. It's all they have, since the past becomes foggy and future something they no longer have a concept of.
I learned to accept my dad just where he was, but it was often very hard. If he thought people on television were talking to him, I had to go along with it. If he thought that every photo in a magazine was his cousin, I played along with that too.
During the middle stage of the disease, he became very frightened when riding in a car, especially on highways when everyone is going so fast. There was a weekend when he stayed with us to give mom a break. I knew that we'd be driving home at night on the highway, something that triggered terrible fear in dad.
He had always loved to sing, and had a beautiful tenor voice. He loved musicals, so I went to the store and bought a bunch of CD's of old musicals: Oklahoma, Sound of Music, The Music Man. As soon as we got in the car, I popped in a CD and he immediately started singing along. We sang all the way home, about an hour's drive. I will never forget how much he enjoyed it and how fun it was to be able to do something that gave him pleasure, when so much had been taken from him.
Good luck with your mother. She is such a sweet, wonderful person. She is not the disease; she is someone with a history, a life, relationships forged through years of her kindness and intelligence.
My dad told me when he was first diagnosed with Alzheimer's that everything would be okay. Sometimes things are not okay in the way we wish they would be, but ultimately, he was right. I know that for you and your mom and your family, everything will be okay.
Love,
Kathy
Post a Comment