Mid-morning yesterday I checked in on my parents to find my dad sleeping on the sofa. My mom's meds were still in the teacup that I'd brought down hours earlier. The dog Vern was asleep in his kennel.
I did a quick scan of the bathrooms, bedrooms and back yard, but I didn't see my mom.
It's hard to explain my mom's dementia because it's amorphous. In my presence, she is often lucid. My dad has told me she is better when I'm around. Then again, she at times repeats herself like a skipping record.
After her first week here on Eagle Avenue, she seems to have settled into her new home. I didn't think she would wander down the gravel road, but my siblings had brought up the possibility, and when I couldn't find her, my heart leapt into my throat.
I woke my dad as calmly as I could: "Where is Mom?"
He lifted his head from the pillow, bleary-eyed, and said, "She went to town."
Just then I heard my mom's voice call out from the bedroom: "I'm in the bathroom!"
But she wasn't! She was on her bed, out of view from my quick glance into the room.
------------------
Within a few minutes my parents had shaken off sleep's confusion, and we all laughed about our disoriented conversation. "Did you think I'd hitchhiked to town?" my mom quipped.
"Did you have breakfast?" I asked.
"We think so!" my dad nearly shrieked with laughter: "but it's hard to know!"
No comments:
Post a Comment