Acceptance

I never know what I will see or hear when I go to visit Mom. It's like the unpredictability of a child. You never know what a kid will say or do and it's the same with my new friends at the nursing home. My first encounter yesterday was with one of my lost friends from the other day. I'll call her Marge. (I'll have to find out her name.) Marge is in the hallway and she reaches her hand out to me. I naturally reached out and took her hand. I had a flash back of a lady at the nursing home where my grandparents were years ago. She would reach out her hand and try to grab you and bite you. Thankfully Marge didn't try to bite me. Marge says; "Help me! I'm stuck here and I need to get out. My son-in-law and daughter put me here to die. Help me!" How do you respond to that? One would think that my training as a nurse would prepare me for that kind of encounter. It's hard to give a rational response to an irrational question. I told her I was sorry she was upset, but I was not sure what I can do for her. She says; "If you don't do something I'm doomed!" The nurses were completely ignoring our encounter leaving me to fend for myself. I squeezed her hand and told her it would be ok and then I just had to walk away. Awkward and uncomfortable??? YES, very. I saw her later and she was smiling. More than likely she doesn't even remember our exchange. I continued on my adventure and went to the dining room to find Mom. There she was amongst the sea of silver heads. It's funny, she always seems shocked to see me. Maybe it's because I've seen her everyday since she been there and before she moved it was only once a week. For some strange reason I find it easier to see her there. I dreaded visiting her at Kingston because it was hard to see her failing in her abilities. She started out there being able to walk around and socialize and ended up being confined to her wheel chair and recliner. I guess I was in denial and if I didn't see her, I didn't have to deal with it. Being in denial is like walking up a steep hill. It's hard work ignoring what needs to be done. You take a step and think; I can't go any farther. I don't want to go any farther. I'll just stay here at the bottom of the hill and be perfectly happy, all the while knowing that if you were at the top of the hill the hard part would be behind you and you could focus on what's in front of you. (Wow! I am so deep.) I think I may be nearing the top of the hill of acceptance. I know I can't change anything. I am done pitying myself. I am ready and willing to make this the happiest time possible for her. It's a process.

Back to my adventure. As I am sitting with Mom I hear some commotion at the next table of two. One of the ladies is yelling at my friend Ruth and I hear; "don't spit on the floor! It's not sanitary!" Like I said, you never know what you are going to hear.
Mom is a good eater, but a slow eater. She is usually the last one left in the dining room. There were about three residents and some aides left in the room when another resident came back in to the dining room. She wandered around a little and one of the aides asked her if she wanted to play the piano. The aide says; "we love to hear you play." I thought hmmm, maybe Mom can enjoy some nice music. She began to play and as I tried to figure out what song she was playing, I soon came to the realization that she played the piano like my grand kids do. She didn't pound the keys like they do. She had somewhat of a soft touch. When I looked at her she had a huge smile on her face. I could picture her as a three year old girl doing the same thing. I looked at Mom. There she was, furrowed brow and wrinkled nose. It's becoming her signature look of disgust. Bryan stopped by to visit, but he missed all of the fun. Good times, good times.