Cow-Socks and Stride-Rites

I'm not a betting person. But if I were, you can be sure I'd put good money on the chances that at some point, on some day, my mother is going to walk out of this house without a stitch of clothing on except her little socks with the cows on them, and her Stride-Rite shoes. Bet on it. She came very close to it yesterday.

Mom frequently has days when she's, well, a little out of sorts. Her synapses seem to take the longest path possible, if they take any path at all. And that's on a good day. On her "off" days, nothing seems to fall into place for her--emotionally, mentally, physically. Some "off" days are worse than others. In any case, Dad and I and the aides just do the best we can when it happens.

Yesterday......Mom was having a "sort of off" day. I was working in the office (which is next to her bedroom), she was in her room getting dressed (I thought). I could hear her whining and whimpering a little more than usual (one clue that an "off" day is in the making), so I rather expected she might need help at some point. I was right. It wasn't long before I heard, "Deni-i-i-ise."

I popped up and went in to see what Mom needed. She was sitting in her chair, still in her nightgown and robe. I said, "What's the problem Mom?" She said, "I made it."

I had no idea what she meant. This isn't really new. Mom frequently says things that make absolutely no logical sense. And if you try to work with her to find the logic, she often forgets why she said what she said in the first place. So we generally ignore the first what-did-she-just-say-comment, figuring that if it's really important, she'll say it again. It's proven to be a fairly effective strategy. My guess, in this case, is that "I made it" meant that she made it into her chair. Just a guess.

Anyway, I asked if she needed anything and she said, "No" so I went back to work.

About two minutes later, "Deni-i-i-i-i-se!"

Up I pop.

In I go.

This time, no nightgown, no robe. Just socks (the ones with the little cow faces on them) and her Stride-Rites. And just as I'm bending down to pick up her robe and nightgown, she says, "I need a Depends." And just as I'm straightening up to turn to her to ask if she'd like me to go get her one, she's gone! Without her walker! Toddling down the hallway in her socks and her Stride-Rites doing a good 3mph! Did I mention she didn't have her walker???!!! Arrrrghh!

So Mom has made it to the end of the hall when I call to her like an old barn-shy horse, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Of course she doesn't stop. I run down the hall and physically stop her by grabbing her shoulders and say, "Where are you going???"

And, of course, innocently, she says, "I'm going to the garage to get a Depends."

oy.

So I turn her chubby little 5' frame around by the shoulders, chiding and scolding her, as we head back to her bedroom. "First of all Mom, you're naked. Second of all, you don't have your walker!"

She only responds with, "ohhhh."

I help her get dressed, the day proceeds.

Now I understand those crazy stories I read in the paper about old people wandering around outside with no clothes on. If you see a story about an 89 year old woman in Sequim, check twice. If cow-socks and Stride-Rites are involved, it may very well be my mother.