Mom Finds a Friend

You know you're a neighborhood regular when you sit down at a coffee shop for a Sunday morning and recognize the woman's English accent sitting next to you from time spent at your favorite neighborhood bar.

That was me, this morning, at Frothy Monky in 12South this morning.  I immediately recognized the voice of a woman I've sat next to at the bar at Edley's on a few occasions.  I don't know her name but she's always in a good mood, laughs a lot and has a heavy (and cool) English accent.

It's Sunday morning and I am about to head south to NHC Place to spend some time with my mom.  I stopped by yesterday afternoon in between two basketball games, a trip with the boys to Lucky Ladd Farm and Saturday night Predators' game vs. the Islanders.

When I arrived I used the code to let me into Aspen Arbor, and walked down the hall toward my mom's apartment.  I glanced through the kitchen and saw eight or ten residents sitting together watching television.  My mom was one of them, which made my happy.  When she's involved in a group activity, I normally don't interrupt her because I think it's good for her interact with others.  I think she needs that and, I hope, it causes her to think, reason and use her mind more than just talking quietly with me.

I slipped into her apartment and spent a few minutes straightening up.  She's still tearing pages out of coloring books and leaving them lying around the apartment.  I left out some cookies I brought for her then stopped to talk with a couple of the caregivers before I left.

They told me a funny story or two and reiterated how much they like my mom.  Already, she's making a mark with her sense of humor, which has remained intact in spite of everything else she's lost mentally.  She laughs a lot, which is something I have to remind myself to appreciate now, because it likely won't always be the case.

Anyway, one of the caregivers pointed out that she was sitting next to "Mr. Tom" and, further, that they normally sat together.  They had become friends.  That comment - that one comment - made me want to smile and cry at the same time.  Literally.

At Maristone, my mom never seemed to be able to connect with any of the other residents or make new friends.  One of the cruelest things about Alzheimer's disease - at least in the way that it's affected my mom - is that her ability to make friends and to be comfortable around people she doesn't know well has vanished in the wind.  Watching this woman who had so very many friends and was so involved socially struggle to talk with another resident has been heartbreaking for me.  Maybe that's changed in her new environment, just a little.  I need to believe that it has, anyway.

I'm off to pick up donuts for the residents and staff this morning, a Sunday morning tradition I've been thinking of starting.