The Best Sixteen Months of My Life

“Bye Mom!” I felt my heart ripping apart, like a new mom who had just dropped off their newborn at daycare. As I drove away, I burst into tears. I hated leaving her there.

Although the retirement home cost more-than $6,000/month, they weren’t taking care of her the way I thought they should. My mother had always been so conscientious about her looks, but whenever I visited, her hair was a mess, her clothes were dirty, and her room reeked of urine. When her beautiful teeth started falling out, I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to take care of her, but how?

I had no experience working with the elderly. Besides, where would we live? I was sharing an apartment with a friend. I needed a house, but I couldn’t afford one. My mother’s money was tied up in stocks and CD’s. It seemed impossible, but I remembered when Jesus said, “with God, all things are possible.”

My brother, Bill handled Mom’s money. He guarded her money like a mother bear guards her cubs. I prayed for a miracle.

First, I knew I couldn’t take care of Mom by myself, so I called my cousin Evonne, a retired nurse who had always loved old people. When I told her my plan, she said, “When do I start?”

Next, I went house hunting. Within three days, I found a manufactured home in a park, three bedrooms, two baths, $60,000. Perfect, but I still wasn’t sure about Mom’s money. It was time to contact my brother.

“No!” he argued. “You do not want to do this. Besides, Mom doesn’t have that much cash.”

“Can’t you cash in one of her CD’s?”

“I suppose, but Evonne has a bad back,” he contended.

“Bill! Evonne has worked with a bad back her whole life. She knows what she’s doing.”

The conflict continued for several days. He brought up every possible problem. I answered with every possible solution. I wasn’t going to give up. Finally, he came out and looked at the house. “It needs a ramp.”

I almost shouted, “So what!” Instead, I just agreed. I wanted to take care of my mom. I was not going to let it go. With deep reservations, he finally relented.

The house had no furniture, no pots or pans, no towels, no food, absolutely nothing. I went shopping at the Salvation Army and garage sales, something I learned from my mom. My brother was pleased with the low-cost.

Because of my mom’s dementia, I needed her room to look exactly like the one she was in. I painted it pale blue with royal blue curtains. I decorated it with her favorite Monet painting, her Shirley Temple dolls, antique tea pots, end tables with matching lamps, and a photo of her and my dad canoodling on the beach. I looked at the room and smiled. She won’t even know she moved.

Within two months of buying the house, my impossible dream became a reality. Mom moved in. Every morning, I would go in her bedroom and plop my little Pom/chi, Sassy on her bed. Mom said things like, “Hello, you little monkey,” Sassy would cuddle.

Next, I helped her get dressed, making sure everything matched. Then I would fix her hair, apply pink lipstick and rouge, and help her brush those pearly whites. She would look at her reflection and smile, something I hadn’t seen in a long time. A spritz of White Shoulders perfume made her smell like a lady of the 40’s.

One of my favorite things about caring for my mom was preparing her favorite foods. I loved the smell of homemade soup drifting through the house. I served Mom’s meals on vintage dishes and her coffee in fine bone china. She was so appreciative. I thought about the thousands of meals she had prepared for me. Now, it was my turn.

After lunch, Mom and I would go for a walk. I would push her wheelchair with Sassy curled on her lap. Those afternoon strolls were the highlight of her day. She always said, “This fresh air feels so good.” Mom was so social, and enjoyed talking to the neighbors doing their yard work. When it was too cold for a walk, we would go for a scenic drive in the country.

In the evenings, Mom and I watched Annie Get Your Gun, or Singing in the Rain, over and over. Thanks to the dementia, Mom never got tired of watching Gene Kelly dancing in mud puddles, or Betty Hutton sharp shooting while riding on a galloping steed. I enjoyed it too.

On Sunday mornings, we attended an old-fashioned church where we sang some of her favorite hymns. We took communion and sang the Doxology, “Praise God from Whom all Blessings Flow.” At the end of the service, we recited the Lord’s Prayer in unison. Afterwards, we met in the fellowship hall, while enjoying hot coffee and warm cookies with good friends.

After church, we watched the Seahawks while eating hot buttered popcorn. Actually, Mom watched me while I watched the game, yelling and hooting. It was great entertainment for both of us. Sometimes my brothers would stop by, making it a family affair.

By the end of the first year, my mom’s ER visits increased due to multiple bladder infections. Another time there was a frightening drop in blood pressure. One time, after a nasty fall, her doctor said, “Your mom needs to be evaluated for hospice.”

No! Not yet! You’re wrong.

The next day, a hospice nurse came out and did a complete evaluation. “Your mom is ready.” I was stunned. I thought hospice was for people on their death bed, but they were so much more. They help the family prepare, even if it’s several months away.

Hospice turned out to be a blessing. No more trips to the hospital. If Mom had health problems, the hospice nurse took care of it. No more trips to the pharmacy. Hospice brought her meds to us. They gave me and my cousin an end-of-life booklet. It explained how the patient would sleep more and eat less, something we had already noticed. The booklet said she would probably have an “unexpected burst of energy” just before dying.

A few weeks later, Mom and I were absorbed in a nail-biting football game. The Seahawks had the ball. It was third down with twenty-three yards to go. Out of the blue, my mom shouted, “You better hurry up and do something! This is your last chance.” I couldn’t believe it, but there it was, the burst of energy. The next morning, Mom fell into a coma. In 24-hours she was gone.

I reflected on our time together. When I first decided to do this, I had no idea what to expect. My only goal was to get my mom out of that retirement home, but I was the one who was blessed. Caring for my mom gave me such an inexplicable sense of peace and joy. It was the most gratifying 16-months of my life. I was glad I didn’t give up. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.