Caring for My Mom

December 10, 2024

R. Lynn Barnett, a graduate of Emory University, has written a book encapsulating the five years that she and her husband spent taking care of her mother, who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

Finding humor in stressful situations — like caring for someone with Alzheimer’s — can be a lifesaver. It is in no way insulting to the person living with Alzheimer’s; rather, it’s a healthy way to cope. My mom knew the value of humor, especially in the face of illness. When a mammogram showed a problem and her friends called to see how she was feeling after surgery, she replied: “I feel fine, I just take lousy pictures.” If my mom could find humor in a cancer diagnosis, I could do the same regarding her Alzheimer’s diagnosis. She knew that laughter was the best medicine.

My husband and I found this out when we took care of my mom for the five years she was living with Alzheimer’s.

Alzheimer’s is an “our” and “hour” disease: the former, because it affects the whole family, and the latter because the lucidity of someone with Alzheimer’s can change hour by hour (and sometimes minute by minute.) A case in point is when I had to pick something up at our local store. I bought my mom some soda and some chips, sat her down in the snack area, and told her I’d be back in 20 minutes — showing her what time that would look like on her watch. This worked most of the time, but when I did the same thing a few weeks later, she slipped out the door when I turned my back. I saw her outside and said, “How can I buy anything if you’re going to walk out the door,” but I realized that I wasn’t only talking to my mom, but the other shoppers as well. Adding insult to injury, there was a sign on the door that said that it had audio/visual surveillance — which means I had given a fearful, tearful earful to the security personnel as well. 

Alzheimer’s might strip those who are living with the disease of memories, but it also strips caregivers — this one, at least —  of any degree of propriety and decorum. If anyone who heard me thought that I was stressed (as most caregivers are), they’d be right.

When people say they don’t know what’s in store for them, they mean they don’t know what to expect. I can relate to this, in both the literal and figurative sense. Ten years earlier I was in a grocery store and noticed a woman telling her mom, in a somewhat aggravated tone, “We just bought milk; now we’re buying eggs.” I saw the discomfort on the older woman’s face and I thought that if my mom ever had memory issues, I wouldn’t talk to her that way. Fast forward a decade and my mom’s Alzheimer’s was in full swing. We passed the tuna aisle and she asked me if we needed any. I said we did, but they didn’t have the kind that we like, so I wanted to wait until they got that brand back in, and she agreed. Moments later, she asked again: “Do we need tuna?” and I replied: “Didn’t we just discuss that I wanted to wait for a certain brand?”

As caregivers, we need to give ourselves a little break. The late Rosalynn Carter, wife of president Jimmy Carter, understood the toll that the role of caregiving can take. There was a beautiful song played at her funeral, written by Jill Jackson-Miller and Sy Miller, entitled, “Let there be Peace on Earth, and Let it Begin with Me.” As a caregiver, I’d adjust those lyrics just a bit to say, ”Let there be a piece of peace on earth, and let it be there for me.” I wish you all the same.