The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from or where it is going... John 3:8

Friday, February 3, 2012

"mama, please don't leave me"

Lately all I can think about is my sweet Mama.  Sadly she lives 600 miles away from me in my home-state of Mississippi so I don't get to see her that often.  Jane is her name.  Well, "Sarah Jane" to be exact.  (Now you know where my middle name came from.)  Mama was born and raised in a little place called Ovett, Mississippi and is Southern to the bone.  She is your classic caregiver personality.  You know that "stand-by-your-man" type always serving up sweet iced tea with a smile.

Just to give you a little background, Mama was born a twin.  Her beloved brother, Jimmy, died suddenly when they were only 13.  Their baby brother, Gary, who was 6 at the time, dared Jimmy to climb an electric pole.  Killed him instantly when he touched a live wire.  Poor little Gary watched in horror as his big brother fell to the ground dead.  He ran as fast as his little legs would carry him to get Mama.  They were the only ones home at the time, their closest neighbor a mile up the red dirt road.  

I don't think Mama ever got over the loss of her twin, who was the shy one of the two.  One thing is for certain though... her faith has always pulled her through a tough spot, being the good ol' Southern Baptist that she is. Mama has sung in the choir and taught Sunday School all her life.  That is until now.  She has a lot on her plate these days taking care of her 91 yr. old husband, Milton, whom she married on New Year's Day of 2005.

See... Mama, though strong & independent, doesn't like to be alone for long.  She lives to serve, and after the loss of her 2nd husband (whom I affectionately called "Pa Bill"), she was just lost.  Pa Bill had alzheimers and not surprisingly, Mama was his sole caregiver until the day he died.  They call alzheimers "the long goodbye" and I can see why.  This insidious disease, which finally took my stepfather, drug out for 8 years.  He passed peacefully at home on a cold, January day in 2003, but not before "coming to" and talking to his deceased brother, Gene, and sister, Holly, who had died years before.  No doubt they were there to greet him as he crossed over to the other side.

I started seeing little things with Mama a couple of years before Bill died.  She was only 64 at the time, and I just chalked it up to all the stress she was under taking care of him.  I just wouldn't allow myself to believe that the same disease that had wrapped its ugly tentacles around Bill's mind was invading Mama's too.  It just couldn't be so.  Not mama.  Not the woman who adopted and raised me from birth.  I need you, Mama.  I think she sensed it because one day she said to me, "Donna Jane, I hope you never have to watch me go through this."  I wonder if on some deep level she knew?

Ironically, the man she married after Bill lost a wife to alzheimers so he was no stranger to this disease as he was also his wife's sole caregiver.  I think God works in mysterious ways sometimes.  Although he was quite a bit older, I felt relieved that his mind seemed firmly in-tact so I gave my blessing on their marriage.  At least mama wouldn't be alone.  And since I lived out-of-state it was a blessing that someone came along who would love and care for her in my stead.

As time has marched on I have noticed the decline in Mama's mental faculties with each visit.  At first she was just forgetful and would misplace stuff a lot.  But we all do that at times, right?  Then I began to notice moments where she didn't comprehend what was being said.  She would play like she did, but I knew by that blank look in her eyes.  "You can't fool me, mama."  But I played along, too.  No matter how many times I wanted to bring it up, the words always got stuck in my throat.  Denial can be your best friend.

How can this be happening?  Then I began to find myself angry with her, as if she could help it.  The Long Goodbye indeed.  It has drug out for 9 years now and it's to the point that denying it does no good.  It's here.  For the first time in my life, mama forgot my birthday which was just last month.  She didn't call me on Christmas.  And I had to call her on Thanksgiving or I doubt I would have heard from her then either.  It breaks my heart to know she's slipping away.

Just the other night I gave her a call and she seemed really happy to hear from me.   Mama has always had an infectious laugh.  I got to hear it the other night.  There are other times she seems totally blank.  Those conversations only last about 5 minutes.  This time though she wanted to know if I had finished remodeling my house.  In my mind I was saying, "Uh, I don't live in a house; I live alone in an apartment", but in her mind I was remodeling my house.  Instead of correcting her I just said, "No mama, I wasn't able to finish that."  "Oh, that's too bad" she said.

I learned during our ordeal with Pa Bill that with alzheimers it is necessary to "enter their world".  Arguing or correcting them only leads to agitation so I learned to play along.  It will be no different with mama.  Sometimes it can get downright funny the things they say.  These days I find myself dreading the day when Milton passes because I know some difficult decisions will have to be made.  For one, who will take care of mama?

She can't live by herself.  I'm afraid she would burn the house down.  That almost happened once before when she left a pan of grease on the burner.  She had gone outside and talk to the home-health nurse who was there to check on Bill during the final days of his life.  He just sat inside the house with smoke billowing all around him.  Once he realized it was a fire he kicked back into firefighter mode and gave the poor nurse a black eye for trying to stop him.  Thankfully they all got out alive and it wasn't a total loss.  Only the kitchen.

If my children were grown there would be no doubt that I would be expected to move home and take care of her, but that isn't the case.  My kids (ages 12, 14, and 19) need me.  Thankfully, mama understands this.  I just hope my Aunt and Uncle do when it comes time to take care of their sister, Jane.  They all live right there together on their old home-place... separate houses, of course.  The last thing I want is to see is for my mama to end up in a nursing home.  That would break my heart.

Why does life have to be so unfair?  I know I will have to cross this bridge very soon regarding mama's care.  For now though I have finally accepted that this is happening and like anything else, I will get through it.  I am not ready to give her up.  Money is beyond tight, but I am hoping to make a trip home to Mississippi this summer to see her.  The day could come when she won't know me anymore.  I don't want that to be any time soon.  Mama, please don't leave me yet.  I want to sit on the front porch with you a few more times and drink coffee.  And watch the birds.  And look at all the pretty flowers you planted.  I'm coming, Mama.  Please wait til I get there.

 

9 comments:

  1. Sensitive story and life experience, Donna. It's always a good thing to share in another's life experience if even just to read about it.

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    1. Thanks, John. And the story isn't over yet. I'm sure I will have much more to share about mama before our final goodbye.

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  2. Beautifully written, you really brought the reader right onto the porch and settled us in for a chat. Southern culture has always fascinated me and I remember so many novels I relished set deep in the South with such lively characters...you've painted an equally warm picture of you and your family here.

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    1. Thank you so much, Melissa. Wow! You described exactly how I WANT my readers to feel when they enter my world. You just made my day. :-)

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  3. Just beautiful Donna.......Kyle

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  4. Thanks,Kyle. I assume this is the Kyle I went to school with way back when?

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  5. As a child, I worried a lot about my grandmother's death. Almost to the point of obsession and I used to pray for God to let my grandmother live to a nice old age and I would bargain with him - please don't take her until I can handle it. God was good to me and let me have her for a lot of years. I know you'll do everything that you can to enjoy those moments while you have them.

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  6. Donna Jane!.. I feel you.. It just downright hurts.. Got tears in my eyes.. :( Get there as soon as you can, that's all I have to say about that... I was a day late for my Dad.... HUGS!
    Claire

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  7. I will keep you all in my prayers. I love to read anything you write.

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