Growing up you view your parents in a certain light, e.
g.
strong, capable, able to do everything, intelligent, vivacious, never growing old.
My mom was that kind of person.
She was our Miss Prim and Proper.
She would never leave the house wearing rollers in her hair or be seen with informal attire; she would wear a dress or suit fully accessorized.
Growing up, my mom set the appearance standards; I was only allowed to wear dresses and no jeans.
However, by high school I think I wore her down.
I was allowed to wear pants but still no jeans.
My mom wouldn't even allow me to chew gum in public.
Which in hindsight, it was probably a good thing since I did chew like a cow.
With the force of my bite, I would tear the skin inside my cheeks.
But with all kidding aside, my mom was the real Donna Reed.
She would cook, clean and bake all day.
She was a meticulous cleaner and a master cook.
On the flip side of her daily kitchen routine and household chores as previously mentioned, she enjoyed getting dressed up with her hair styled, make-up, nails painted, matching shoes, purse and dress.
She was always dressed to a tee outside the house and neighbors would comment on how she looked like Lucille Ball.
With her drive and ambition for perfection, she had the energy of the Tasmanian devil with an apron.
She did it ALL!!! As the years progressed, my Mother continued with her fastidious flair for dressing and cooking rituals.
She looked forward to the holidays demonstrated by her all night bake-a-thons.
You would think our house was a restaurant with a full menu displayed on the counter tops of our enclosed patio, garage and kitchen; thank goodness for natural Northeastern cold weather refrigeration.
Everywhere you looked there were pies, cookies, cakes, breads and confections.
She didn't just make one; she had a variety in every category.
Now in her seventies, she finally gave up the jean war and bought herself a pair to wear around the house.
She went all out and bought sneakers to go with her at home attire.
To think all those years were wasted in nylons and pumps.
When my mom reached her eighties, she continued to cook but started to show significant signs of forgetfulness.
Initially, we dismissed her forgetfulness to her age but when the forgetfulness became more prevalent, when knew it was something more.
She began calling my brothers, sister and I by different names, other family members.
For me, she would call me by my cousin's name that was my mom's age.
I looked up family photos to see if there were any resemblances that could cause confusion.
There were similarities like in all families, but not enough for me to look exactly like my cousin especially with the age difference.
My mom would hide her purse and forget where she placed it or would accuse someone of stealing it.
My mom finally went to the doctor's, a physiatrist, where she was examined.
The Doctor stated that her symptoms were signs of dementia, Alzheimer's.
He provided us with a prescription for Aricept.
After months of taking this medication, my mom showed no improvement.
She actually demonstrated the medication's side effects with constant dizziness, nauseousness and lack of appetite.
My mom had always been a healthy eater and teetered on being pleasingly plump.
During this medication trial period, my mom was in dire need of knee replacement surgery.
The pain became so severe that she was taken to the hospital emergency room.
Since surgery was inevitable to keep her from becoming wheelchair bound, she had surgery at age 82.
After that surgery, her Alzheimer's symptoms drastically increased.
Anesthesia supposedly progresses Alzheimer's.
We did not know that at the time.
My mom suddenly couldn't remember how to cook, couldn't perform her financial business, she couldn't remember our names or attending activities.
I remember being at my brother-in-law's funeral and she asked who passed away.
Her whole world came to a halt.
Each day late in the afternoons, she experienced sundowning.
She became hyperactive, paranoid and impatient.
She couldn't sit still, she was agitated.
She started a daily ritual of getting up and down from her chair to insure doors were locked and window shades drawn.
Once she made her rounds, she would sit back down in her chair and moments later start the process all over again.
She would start to wind-down after several hours and with the help of Seroquel and Lorazepam, very low dosages.
Sometimes she would comment on her food being poisoned or that the medication was poison.
She would secretively remove medication from her mouth and hide it in her tissues.
Tissues became her Origami.
She would artfully fold and roll her tissue into small bundles and stuff her pockets.
Her pockets were full by the end of each day.
With her forgetfulness and behavior, she could no longer be home alone.
My brothers, sister and cousin rotated shifts to ensure someone was with my mom at all times.
My mom lived on the East Coast and I on the West Coast.
In 2009 after no improvement and family members worn out, I brought my mom to CA to seek medical attention.
Her symptoms had become more severe and her current medications were not helping.
She was having hallucinations and delusions.
My mom was seen by a team of Physiatrists, Neurologists, Internal Medicine Doctors, Social Workers and Nurses.
She went through a very thorough examination process and after a 30 day hospital stay, a treatment plan was established.
She became more stable in her behavior.
The medication plan helped calm her.
During her hallucinations, she would relive her past and think that people who were dead for years were still around like her Mother and Father.
She would think my younger brother and I were still young children.
A Social Worker conveyed to me that the mind of a person with Alzheimer's was like a filing cabinet, you never knew which drawer or folder would be opened.
My mom stayed with me for several months; my younger brother and I had obtained control of her.
Seeking cutting edge medication or a cure, my brother was able to get my mom into a research clinical study program testing a new drug that had shown positive results in prior studies.
I brought her to St.
Louis to live with him.
The drug for my mom has shown signs of improvement.
Her short-term memory is more acute and she frequently says witty and logical things.
The sad part however is that due to her age and the rapid progression of the disease her body is starting to fail.
It seems that we are racing against a clock with this disease and a cure.
My mom has lost over forty pounds; she can longer bath herself and requires full bathroom assistance.
She sometimes looses her balance and falls down.
She frequently has difficulty chewing and swallowing so she consumes liquid meals packed with protein, vitamins and calories.
Our roles in each other's life have been reversed.
Never did we fathom we would be feeding our Mom, bathing her, dressing her and taking care of her bathroom needs.
Life certainly is an evolution that rotates a full 360 degrees.
My mom was 87 last month; she still continues to have a zest for life and marches the floors of my brother's home with her walker when she remembers.
Good luck with your family member.
Thank you, Kathryn Alexander.