Almost exactly a year ago I wrote my first and only diary here about my 93- year-old mother who was descending into dementia. I told how we moved her to an independent living facility in October, a month before my 57-year-old sister died from cancer. I also mentioned that since I had just retired after 37 years of teaching, the daytime caregiving was often falling to me. My sibs came through on afternoons and weekends. At the time, I was so in need of comfort and advice I diaried it here.
The response took me totally by surprise. Empathy, wisdom,and quality advice. The Kos community was a tonic for the soul. I just re-read the comments from a year ago and was struck by how prescient the discussion was.
I've decided to update the story in case any of my commenters ever wondered what happened, and just because I feel like it.
The Kos respondents told me to take care of myself, and I tried, but everyone has a breaking point I guess. Although I've been naturally outgoing and ebullient my entire life, I fell into a profound depressive episode that lasted nearly a year. Nothing even remotely akin to it had ever happened to me.
A very good therapist and a doctor who labored for eight months to finally find the correct med (three heartbreaking tries later) pulled me out. My deeply loyal sister and patient friends saw me through. In the end, I did find something that gave me joy (as advised here), and it was art classes: drawing and painting.
Now about my mom. After six months of typical dementia difficulties, we finally found the right 24-hour caregiver for her. It made all the difference in the world. We had a damn good run of six months when she was hospital-free and content to watch "I Love Lucy" and "The Golden Girls." Her seven children, seven grandchildren, and eight great-grandchildren visited her. We had a fabulous 94th birthday party for her in my devoted sister's back yard. She wasn't sure whose birthday it was, but she had a good time.
A little over a week ago, we had to hospitalize her for a number of reasons. Inflamed intestines, fluid in the lungs, a mild heart attack, and an antibiotic resistent infection. My whole family is prepared for whatever happens, and we have given the no extraordinay measures instructions.
Late Christmas Eve, my husband and I and my sister and brother-in-law were there visiting. There were only three chairs, and tired of standing, I finally said, "Move over, mom," and climbed into bed with her. With one of her arms around me, I was able to hold both her hands and we sank into a comfortable position. We all watched the last half hour of "It's A Wonderful Life."
It was a wonderful moment.