Wanted: Sunshine

Meltdown at the nursing home. And my mom's not doing so well either.

Mom's in a slump. A big slump. And this is the third day of it. Today, the nurse ordered a mental health evaluation.

It's a real lesson in perspective to sit and listen to somebody in the throes of dementia when they're having a really, really bad day. Or three days. Our natural inclination is to want to fix them. Un-break what is broken in their minds. Figure out the magic comment that will suddenly snap them back to reality. But dementia doesn't work that way. Or at least my mother doesn't work that way.

So Dad and I sit, and we listen, and we listen some more. And she tells us how "they" are all plotting against her. How "they" don't care about her. How there's a "faction" that is going to take her away.

I come up with a possible magical comment. "Mom look! There's a goldfinch on the fence!" (Mom loves goldfinches.)

She actually smiles and the paranoia and the fear and the sadness all disappear for a few wonderful minutes as she searches the sky for more goldfinches. We chat about the difference between female and male goldfinches. Mom actually chuckles a little when Dad challenges my "so-called" knowledge about the sexual dimorphism of goldfinches. Then there's a short pause. And then it starts again--the plots, the faction, the They.

About half way through the visit Dad gives up. I can tell because all of a sudden he just lowers his head into his hands and says to himself, "She's lost it." And his head just stays there.

I excuse myself and go out into the hall for a break. I talk to Crazy Alice who, today, doesn't seem so crazy. I even say hi to Eleanore, Mom's former roommate-from-hell who, I observe, still doesn't have a new roommate. Eleanore is just plain mean. Mom is just plain depressed. Hmmm.....weighing the options in my head....mean or depressed?...........depressed or mean?.......I dunno.......that's a tough one.

It's gray outside. And it's pretty gloomy inside too.