Sleepless in San Diego: Mom's Meltdown

Nov 9

There are moments when, as an adult child, I feel utterly powerless. I feel that way, because I am. My mom struggles, more and more every day, with a disease over which none of us has any control or any answers: Alzheimer's disease.

I am fortunate that my mom lives in a retirement community that I've worked with for over 20 years, and I know that she is safe and secure and looked after, no matter what. However, today I'm in San Diego, about 6 hours away from Tucson where we both live. Mom called me from her home and told me that three men were standing outside her door last night while she was sleeping, talking about how they were going to break in and kill her.

I can't go see her until I get back on Monday. I can't talk her out of what she believes to be true. Every reassurance I give her is forgotten 10 seconds after I say it. I feel completely useless. I want to make it better, as do we all, and at some point we can't.

I've done everything I can think of: she's getting tested for a urinary tract infection already, and I've let the care staff know what's happening. They are giving her extra attention, but they can't talk her out of what she knows to be true. If I heard people outside my door at night plotting my murder, I wouldn't want to put my guard down either. Even though that didn't really happen, it really happened for her. In her experience, that is 100% true.

It makes me think of my own past, living with severe depression at certain points in my life. There were a couple points in my younger years when it almost claimed my life. I know that my parents would have done anything to take that pain from me, but they couldn't. I had to get the counseling, figure out the medications, and do the work. I'm the only one who could help myself.

With Alzheimer's disease, however, my mom will never be able to help herself. Where my parents could hope for me to break free from the demon of depression that had a hold on my heart, what hope can I have that my mom will find her way back? What can I do but watch this horror unfold?

This is obviously not my day for writing a pep talk. I'm sad. Today, this journal entry is more of a diary of my feelings as mom crosses the threshold into a deeper stage of dementia, further from herself and from me.

But I am here in San Diego and it's a beautiful day. I've done everything I can, and I know my mom is in great hands. I feel like I'm supposed to feel badly. That's what is expected, right? But I'm going to choose to be present in San Diego with my partner, enjoying the sun and the sunset. I wish my mom weren't suffering, but I'm going to try to avoid adding my own suffering to the world today. The world has enough suffering.

There is some melancholy in my heart, but I can look out over the ocean and watch the birds winging their way back and forth. I imagine myself, peaceful with them. Floating. I imagine my mom gliding past, free.