I'm sitting in the library at NHC Place having just visited my mom. I got up early this morning, got a 4 mile run in before the rain comes, grabbed coffee, picked up donuts and arrived here. The beginning of a busy, errand-filled day. I needed the run this morning in a big way.
When I arrived, my mom was sitting by the open kitchen with the caregivers. In her mind, she is still nurse so she often tried to help the caregivers and tends to hover near them when they're working. Today, they laughed and told me she often rolls her wheelchair into the nurses' station. Once a nurse, always a nurse. Hell, I'll probably be living here one day in the not too distant future thinking the other residence are my clients.
My mom was happy to see me, which is almost always the case. I got her a donut and we sat at one of the dining room tables and laughed an talked. She was in an exceptionally good mood, which lifted my spirits considerably.
After a half hour or so, suddenly and for no apparent reason, her mood shifted. She began breathing harder, which I've learned is a sign she's agitated or anxious. She stopped smiling and laughing and was visibly stressed. When I asked her what was wrong, she didn't answer me. I took her for a walk in her wheelchair - out of Aspen Arbor but still in the building - and that didn't help at all. If anything, being out of familiar environs seemed to make her more anxious. I walked her back to Aspen Arbor and asked the caregivers to help her transfer from the wheelchair so she could go to the bathroom, and I said goodbye and left.
Damn, Alzheimer's disease is cruel. I arrive and am relieved to see my mom alert and happy. Before I leave, she's confused and anxious. It's an emotional roller coaster for those who love her the most, because in many ways, we're on the ride with her.
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