|The Wrong Direction
||[Nov. 24th, 2014|11:12 am]
I moved my mother out of the dining room into the living room this morning because she was falling asleep and threatening to smack her head against the table. |
She has to be nudged to remember the routines by which she's lived for decades. Sometimes she'll ask, "Where do I go now?" or "Am I allowed a biscuit?" It's useles to tell her she's free to do as she pleases. Most afternoons she watches television but it no longer matters what's on and she's stopped using the remote, so I select her viewing for her. Racing, antiques, wildlife, documentaries, news. I think, though I haven't tried it, that she'd sit through Eastenders now and not turn a hair. Occasionally she'll ask me, "Do you know what they're talking about?"
It's like caring for a child, except that with a child you're ever so slowly backing away and allowing them more and more independence. It feels wrong- unnatural- to be going in the opposite direction.
I'm dreading the moment when she can no longer manage to undress herself. I already have to help her with her body warmer and shoes...