Alone Time
Alone Time
Ruby – My Mom
Individuals with dementia often require 24-hour oversight due to the progressive nature of the condition, which can lead to confusion, memory loss, and impaired judgment.
“You can leave me alone, I don’t need a babysitter,” is something I heard frequently from my mom as she defied the need for having around the clock caregiver.
“Rosie, I don’t need someone watching over me all the time,” Mom would insist, her voice mingling vulnerability with her characteristic defiance. This sentiment, a refrain in our daily lives, underscored the tension between her cherished autonomy and the stark realities imposed by her condition.
My mom had occasional episodes of dementia. She would also sleep twenty of twenty-four hours every day. The four hours a day she was awake weren’t continuous and worse yet were during random times of the day and night. When she got up, she needed help in pretty much all the activities of daily living, including bathing, transferring from her chair or bed, physical hygiene, meal preparation and medicine management. It was impossible to leave mom alone.
In this delicate balance, I found myself crafting a tapestry of white lies, woven from threads of love and necessity. “Mom, these caregivers are here to help me in the kitchen or clean the house or garden or take the kids to school, not to watch over you,” I’d explain, hoping to ease her pride while ensuring her safety.
In her clearer moments, Mom would engage in conversations that bridged the chasm between past and present, her words painting a vivid tapestry of memories and fleeting clarity. “I just need a few moments to myself with no one trying to protect me from something I may do,” she’d sometimes say, a gentle reminder of her lifelong yearning for independence.
“It’s not as if I am going to go to the pantry and steal some candy.” She would remind me with a smile. We both knew she did that many times in the past. For months, when my kids were younger and could not reach the hidden stash of candy on the top shelf, my mom would sneak some out for them.
When I ask who ate the candy in the pantry, the answer in unison from my kids and mom would be “Captain Candy Steeler”.
Drawing on Mom’s love and resilience, I wove stories to honor her dignity with caregivers around. Striking a balance to keep her world normal, we navigated her loss of independence and the suffocation it sometimes caused her. Yet, it was her humor, the spark in her eyes, and her acceptance that eased the caregiving burden, offering unexpected moments of relief and joy amidst our challenges.
The Unseen Change
Arianna and Yvette’s Story
“You don’t need to stay, Arianna. I’m fine by myself,” Yvette insisted, her voice steady as she folded laundry on the couch. Arianna watched her mother, concern etched on her face.
“Mom, it’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just… you’ve been having these dizzy spells,” Arianna replied, trying to keep her tone light.
Yvette had been experiencing frequent dizzy spells, often without warning. The doctors couldn’t pinpoint a clear cause, but they suggested someone be with her, just in case.
“I can handle it. I’ve been managing on my own for years,” Yvette said, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. She didn’t like the idea of being dependent on anyone, least of all her daughter.
Arianna sighed, sitting down next to her. “I know you can, Mom. But we just want to be sure you’re safe. What if you get dizzy and fall?”
Yvette looked away, folding a towel with unnecessary force. “I won’t fall. I know my limits.”
“Humor me, then,” Arianna said gently. “Let’s just try having someone around for a while. If it doesn’t help, we’ll reassess.”
Yvette grumbled but didn’t outright refuse. They agreed to hire a part-time caregiver, someone who could help around the house and keep an eye on Yvette without being intrusive.
Over the next few weeks, the caregiver helped with chores and errands, allowing Yvette to rest more. Slowly, Yvette began to see the benefits, though she rarely admitted it out loud.
One afternoon, Arianna visited and found her mother and the caregiver chatting in the kitchen, laughing over a shared story. Yvette looked up, her face softening when she saw Arianna.
“How’s it going, Mom?” Arianna asked, smiling.
Yvette shrugged but couldn’t hide her smile. “It’s not so bad having a bit of help.”
Arianna felt a wave of relief wash over her. “I’m glad to hear that. We just want you to be safe and happy.”
In time, the arrangement became a new normal. Yvette still had her independence, but she also had the support she needed. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked for them, bringing a sense of peace to both mother and daughter.
The Unplanned Shift
Alex, Jessica, and Ace’s Story
“Alex, I’m telling you, I don’t need someone to watch me,” Ace said, his voice firm as he paced the living room. Alex leaned against the doorframe, trying to stay calm.
“Dad, it’s not about watching you. It’s about making sure you’re okay,” Alex replied, his concern evident. Ace had recently suffered a minor stroke, and the doctors recommended having someone around to help with his daily activities.
“I’m not some invalid. I can still do things for myself,” Ace snapped, frustration clear in his tone.
Jessica stepped in, her voice soothing. “We know you can, Ace. But the doctor said you need to take it easy for a while. It’s just temporary.”
Ace stopped pacing, rubbing his temples. “I hate this. I hate feeling like a burden.”
Alex sighed, stepping closer. “You’re not a burden, Dad. We just want to make sure you’re safe. It’s only for a little while, until you’re back on your feet.”
After much debate, they agreed to hire a caregiver to assist Ace with daily tasks. Ace was resistant at first, barely speaking to the caregiver, but over time, he began to see the value in having some help.
One evening, Alex found Ace and the caregiver playing a game of chess. The tension that had hung over the house seemed to have lifted slightly.
“Hey, Dad. How’s it going?” Alex asked, sitting down next to them.
Ace looked up, his expression softening. “Not too bad. I’m still getting used to this, but it’s not as awful as I thought.”
Alex smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “I’m glad to hear that. We just want what’s best for you.”
In the following months, Ace’s condition improved, and he regained much of his independence. The caregiver’s role shifted from necessary help to a friendly presence, and Ace found himself enjoying the company.
Alex and Jessica continued to support Ace, ensuring he had everything he needed while respecting his desire for autonomy. It was a delicate balance, but it worked, bringing a sense of stability and comfort to their lives.