November 24th, 2014


The Wrong Direction

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...