Dislocations and Disorientation

Somedays it's just hard to write.

Somedays, I simply don't know where to start.

I was in San Diego last weekend to visit my "boys." Some time in April or May, I'm going to be a grandmother for the first time! So I went down to attend my daughter-in-law's baby shower, hang with my other son and his wife, visit with my brother and his wife, relax, take a break, etc.

The day I left, Mom plummeted into a full-on anxiety attack. Her parting words to me, amid sobs, were, "I'm afraid I won't be here when you come home." I hugged her and reassured her that I'd see her Tuesday.

My mother has suffered from anxiety/panic attacks for many, many years. So I know, as many of you probably know too, that what people say in the throes of such an attack is usually irrational. On the other hand, when people get to be a certain age, it seems like they gain some sort of extra sense about "things." Like, there are some things they just know, you know? So even though I dismissed Mom's comment, it stayed with me all weekend. All the way until Monday when I got a phone call from the caregiver...

Turns out, Mom dislocated her hip, again (that's four times now), is in the hospital, and will be staying for a couple of nights. Apparently the ER doc initially got the hip back in, but it promptly popped right back out again, so they had to anesthetize her and manipulate the joint back together a second time.

The first thing I thought of when I got the phone call was........omg, Mom was right--she won't be home when I get back from San Diego. She'll be in the hospital. Did she sense something was going to happen? Was it just coincidence?

Today is Friday. Mom came home from the hospital Tuesday night, but I ended up taking her back to the ER on Wednesday because......I'm not sure I can explain it..........she just wasn't "right." She was confused, disoriented, nauseous. When I called her regular doc for guidance, the nurse told me to take Mom back to the ER to be checked out. I did. They did. All tests and samples showed nothing. Four hours later, I brought Mom back home.

But she's still not right. Still confused. There's still a part of her that "isn't here."

And something else. She's not eating. Wants to stay in bed and not get up. One of the caregivers told me today, it seems like Mom might be "shutting down."

I walked back to Mom's room this afternoon to check on her. The television was on; she was lying in bed, looking straight up at the ceiling, with a sort of frozen stare on her face. I stood there for a couple of minutes and wondered what she might have been thinking. What's going on her head? What does she see? Or, does she, really, see anything?

I don't know what happens next. Will Mom perk up over the next few days? Or is this a new phase in her steadily declining state? Has dementia tightened its unforgiving grip on her aging brain?

Dad is concerned. His patience with her is unbelievable, but I can hear the despair in his voice when he talks to her. It makes me wonder, when Mom passes away will he weep for her like he did for Zeus? Will he grieve the same way?

Maybe Mom will wake up tomorrow bright-eyed and wanting to eat a full breakfast. We'll see....