Friday, January 5, 2007

 

The visit ended about an hour ago and was very successful...

...from everyone's point of view, I think. MPS was enchanted with the "winter" weather up here. Snow was threatened for this morning. A little fell. Now it's gone. Thoroughly disappointing for me. Awe inspiring for her. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm always surprised and grateful when I see our property through the eyes of others. Paradise is, indeed, just as easy to get used to as any other place.
    MPS was surprised that my mother was "delighted" to see her. We talked a little about this. I joked that, because people don't see Mom that often, everyone thinks she's become that old lady that all family dramas contain. No chance, nor any such luck.
    Since the storm was coming in yesterday afternoon, even though it didn't amount to much, it kept the atmospheric pressure bouncing, which it continues today. Thus, although Mom was, indeed, "delighted" and even more, that MPS was here, she also kept up with her "I'm feeling old" sleep schedule. She is doing the same today. MPS and I debated whether she should awaken Mom to say good-bye. We both decided against it. After a quick peek in on her, I didn't think she'd even register an attempted good-bye.
    She mentioned the MPBIL is concerned about making sure he sees Mom "before she dies". I understand this, although, frankly, I can't remember ever feeling toward any of my relatives that I have a need to seem them between "now" and "when they die". I'm very familiar with others having this feeling, though, and some in connection with Mom. I often wonder what these visits accomplish for the one needing the visit, and, of course, if they accomplish anything for the one whose presence is sought. What do you say to someone you knew many years ago but don't know anymore?
    Despite the consequences, whatever they were, I don't recall being raised around much of a "see 'em before they die" attitude toward relatives, even though our relationships with all our relatives were woven of distance and intrigue. You know the type:    All I remember is being terribly curious about the relatives, hearing stories about them and accepting either the chance to visit or the inability to launch visits. When extended relatives died, the shock was that I wasn't sure who it was who'd just expired. I think I assumed, since we didn't have more than a few clues about who are relatives were, we accepted their deaths, if necessary, with the same remove as the death of a school classmate of whom you know but whose path through the school you never crossed. It never occurred to me that the same circumstance would surround once immediate relatives to whom has been passed the shroud of old age. I always find it amusing when any of our extended relatives make observations or ask questions that reveal that they expected Mom to be someone else and to think of them as someone else, probably a stranger. I know this is true of some cases of dementia, often those cases nodded into being as Alzheimer's. But, not all dementias are progressive and not every Demented One loses her identity before she dies. We would know this if we knew our elders better.
    The Mom's up. Gotta go.
    More...
    ...later.

Comments:
Originally posted by Karma: Fri Jan 05, 08:57:00 PM 2007

I found a similiar thing with Mom's relatives - well her nephews to be exact. They were all very cold with her, and I was so tempted to go try to explain that she's still their aunt. In turn, Mom didn't pay much attention to them because of their coldness, which I'm sure they took as a sign of her disease, but really it was her responding to them.
 
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