Someone’s real-life experiences, in interacting and taking care of his elderly demented mother, as his mother progressed, there are, more and more, weird and out-of-place behaviors, and, he’d decided, to put her into a care facility, for a few hours every week, so he can, have some time off, translated…
Situation 1: “Older Brother, I’d, Pooped!”
Becoming incontinent, is the most difficult thing in caretaking of the demented elderly. I’d gone shopping close to home, and suddenly, I’d wanted to, go to the bathrooms, naturally, I’d, rushed back home to do it, but sometimes, I’d, find a closer restroom. The most trying situation was while I was driving, and felt the need to go, for instance, as I was driving to see Dr. N, there was a restroom in the parking lot off of Freeway four, but, if I could hold it until I get there, it’d, made me edgy several times. “It’s so annoying, I need to go again!”, and, just like that, mom proclaimed that she’d, needed to go again. “Wait, I’ll drive faster, just hold it (I’m sweating here).”, and yet, there’s, a traffic jam on the freeways, I’m in such a hurry.
“Just five minutes, mom. In three minutes!”, I’d kept, thinking about these meaningless digits, and yet, time kept, toying with me. The restrooms of the parking lot, is underground, and she’d needed to take the elevator. Naturally, the men’s and women’s rooms were separated, and so, I couldn’t, follow my mother in. “I’ll be waiting right here, you go ahead and go.” Then, all I could do, was to, wait outside. There was once, that my mom went in for so long, and so, I’d begged the cleaning lady, to go in to check on her for me, and, she was, having this hard war with her pants.
“Your son is waiting for you outside!”, and, as I’d heard my mother’s voice, I’d felt, somewhat, relieved. In this aging world, there is, this desperate need, for the co-ed public restrooms.
If we’d driven the regular roads, we would usually go to the shops and borrow the restrooms. But, these past few years, this had, become much easier, but, as the time came, we’d needed to, beg the shops to use the restrooms that they have, I’d always felt, bashful. Once, we’d, managed to get to use the bathrooms, and yet, I’d heard my mother exclaimed, “Older brother, I did it”, I’d almost, passed out.
“So~~So~~Sorry! My mother soiled herself in the restroom, can I go into help her change into clean clothes?”, I’d apologized to the store clerk, bought some wet wipes, and, managed this emergency situation. I’m so glad, that the store clerk was kind enough that time.
As we arrived to where Dr. N working, my mother wanted to go again. But, oftentimes, she’d gone in, and couldn’t manage her way out. And, when it came our term for our doctor sessions, the nurse called out my mother’s name, and I was, flustered, because, the patient is there, waiting too.
“I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I’d, made troubles for all of you, I’m truly sorry.” As my mother soiled herself, there’s, that clear sense of guilt in my mother, and so, how can I bear, to scold her more. And, her incontinence has to do with the medications she’s taking, and, if I’d scolded her, she would feel even worse. My mother takes several medications, for her, the worst side effect was constipation, and so, if I gave her the laxatives, she’d often had diarrhea, and so, I’d, switched her to the anti-diarrheal medicines, then, in a couple of days, she’d become, constipated again. From before, I’d mentioned, how all of us in the family had weak stomachs, and, we’re all, too sensitive toward the medications. The caretaking tips I’d left for the caretakers also get altered a lot. Although it was hard, for the people who came to clean up after her, but what my mother was going through, her body no longer followed her commands, how she’s making trouble for others, it must be, stressing her out too. Not long from now, we may need to, put her in adult diapers, I’m sure, she wouldn’t be willing, nor would we.
Situation 2: the Number of Awkward Behaviors Increased as She Progressed
As we entered into 2009, my mother’s awkward behaviors were causing everybody around her to feel stressed out. She’d started banging on the tables with the plastic eating utensils, and, it didn’t matter where we were, if we’re in public, not only would she become an annoyance to those around us, and if the water cup had drink, naturally, the drinks would get, spilled. “Mom, stop banging, you must place the cup on the tables gently.”, but this doesn’t work. Before she’d put the cup down, in order to increase the force, she’d lifted it up really high, and at this precise moment, I’d reminded her, “You, need, to, put, it, down, G-E-N-T-L-Y!”, and now, at the mealtimes, I’d needed to, watch my mother’s every last move.
I don’t know why this was happening, and, rather than angry, this sort of weird behaviors became, a part of her every day life. There was one more weird behavior of hers. Don’t know when it got started, but as she sat, she’d flick her fingers. This wasn’t intentionally annoying, but I can’t find a logical explanation for why she was doing this, and, she’d, banged on her own head from time to time too. There was a professional caretaker that told me, “perhaps, it’s, the symptoms of the ‘twitches’!”
And, I think, it would be too harsh, saying, that this, was her tongue causing her troubles, no matter where we are, she’d started making sounds with her tongue. Naturally, she didn’t mean any harm, but, from the caretaker’s point of view, we’d felt, we were, played like idiots, and, we’d felt, angered by it.
“Older brother, I’m in so much pain, do come and help me.” “I can’t calm myself, what should I do?” “I feel like I’m dying!” “So sorry, for giving you so much trouble!” During this period of time, my mother wore a sour face constantly, and would pour her heart out at me. This can be treated with the medications, but, it can’t be completely rid of, like via a surgery. I’m thinking, my mother’s depressive moods may not have found a viable outlet, that, was why she’s, doing all sorts of things, to relieve herself, to make herself feel better.
But, with the passing of the days, these sorts of behaviors became more and more fine-tuned, she’d started, picking up the plates, the chopsticks, the forks, the knives, and threw them onto the floors.
She’d slammed her chopsticks, her half-eaten buns. And now, I’d come to understand, that she can only use this method, to express her sense of helplessness she can’t verbalize.
“Didn’t I tell you, we shouldn’t waste foods like this?” I can’t help but get harsh on her. But she’s the one in most pain, if I can take this mindset then, I wouldn’t have, scolded her, get loud with her, or even, physically reprimanded her. And still, back then, I’d wanted my mother to return back to normal, and so, I’d, banned her from doing what I believed to be bad behaviors. Recently, I’d discovered, that my mother didn’t smash the coffee, that her, throwing down the buns wouldn’t cause any harm, which meant, that she still has a little sense of what she can, and cannot do. She was sending out her SOS using her behaviors. And in the end, I was next to her physically, but so far from her heart.
In 2010, my mother started behavior even more weirdly, she’d not only started hitting her own head, and would slap the caretaker and my hands. Although she’d not meant to do it, it’d still, ticked us off. I think, I’m sure, that it must be my mother, learning that she wouldn’t get better, that she’s, getting angry at herself. She’d even started spitting at us. All of these, pushed us to the verge of breaking down.
“Do you want to place her into a daycare center, so you won’t have so much stress.”, the one who’d recommended this to me was, Ms. Harada, her caseworker. So much gratitude toward her.
Starting in July of this year, once every month, I’d taken my mother to P Garden, a nursing home facility, each time, it’s, for a weeklong stay. For me, this gave me the room and the space I’d needed, but my mother hated it, and I can so totally understand it. But, it would be awful for me, if she doesn’t stay there. To this point, there’s, just no satisfactory way to solve this situation.
So, this, is the progression of an elderly woman with dementia, from the beginning, her son can still put up with her, but, toward the end, as her condition worsened, he’d found it, stressful, and, finally, decided to commit his mother to a nursing home, for a few days out of the week, so he can have some much-needed time off, which is absolutely necessary for the caretakers to have.