Thursday, December 25, 2014

It's Christmas. This morning, after breakfast, mother was looking at her calendar. "Is it the 25th today?" she asked.


"Oh. It's Christmas. Merry Christmas."

Dementia is starting to affect mom. Her short term memory is going. Dates and commitments slip past her. To help, she has started keeping a daily calendar.

Then there are the meat balls. This Saturday is the big family Christmas Potluck. Mom is to bring meatballs. Two or three times over the past few days she has suddenly remembered that she needs to buy meat balls. She has got into arguments with dad, reminding him to bring her to the store to pick up meatballs.

Last night dad asked me to look in the fridge. It's full of meatballs.

Most of the time mom is perfectly normal. But something about future social engagements sets her off, makes her anxious, makes her heart race, makes her forget things.

I see that my faults are echo's of my mothers. Her faults are an order of magnitude worse than mine. At the core, we share the same weaknesses. It's like I'm getting a preview of my old age.

Dad is patiently by her side the whole time. He calms her. He helps her through her spells.

I wonder how he is. He is a very quiet man who very rarely talks about his feelings.

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