Showing posts with label conversation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conversation. Show all posts

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Where Everybody Knows Your Name


 
 
Making your way in the world today
Takes everything you've got;
Taking a break from all your worries
Sure would help a lot.
Wouldn't you like to get away?

 
 
 
All those night when you've got no lights,
The check is in the mail;
And your little angel
Hung the cat up by it's tail;
And your third fiancé didn't show;

Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name,
And they're always glad you came;
You want to be where you can see,
Our troubles are all the same;
You want to be where everybody knows your name.

Roll out of bed, Mr. Coffee's dead;
The morning's looking bright;
And your shrink ran off to Europe,
And didn't even write;
And your husband wants to be a girl;

Be glad there's one place in the world
Where everybody knows your name,
And they're always glad you came;
You want to go where people know,

People are all the same;
You want to go where everybody knows your name.

Where everybody knows your name,
And they're always glad you came;

Where everybody knows your name,
And they're always glad you came;

This past week's visit was much like all of the rest. I found Mother sitting in her chair watching her favorite cartoon network. Her mannerisms were the same, that of gently  and methodically combing her fingers across her forehead and through her hair. That mannerism used to bother me because Joan was always so neat and proper. Doing anything with her hair except perfectly styling it was certainly out of the question. These days though, it's okay with both of us that she finds this stress-release.

I've been told that some of the next signs I'll see as her Alzheimer's progresses, is a frustration on her part to find the words she so desperately wants to articulate. I'm seeing shades of this now, but for the most part, her conversations are still intelligible.

Tonight's conversations were similar to the ones from my last few visit. "I look out the window every day to see if I can see your red car." "The people here are really nice to me." "I like the food, but I'm always full." "They forgot to get my laundry." "Can you fix my candle? It isn't working." I like the man who cleans my room. He found my earring." "How are Braxtyn and Gavin? I bet they are getting big now." And......my all time favorite...... "Everybody here knows my name."

We all love recognition, don't we? A hearty hand shake, a kiss on the check, a tip of the hat acknowledging that we exist. That we are important. That we serve a purpose. Well then, I guess it's no different for Mother either. The most important thing to her is that everybody knows her name. That she matters. That someone cares.

As a care partner or advocate for those who depend on us, it's easy to get caught up in the 'what about me' syndrome. We spend countless hours caring for, worrying about, and advocating for the person who's been placed under our care-radar. We grow weary, frustrated and right out exhausted carrying this burden. We desperately want someone, anyone, to acknowledge how heavy the load is that we carry. But, what about the person we care for? How often do we take the time to deflect from our own struggles and show one ounce of empathy or compassion for their struggles?

Oh, so embarrassed to admit, that for me, it's not often enough. But, for a moment tonight, I listen to Mother whose life has a beautiful purpose, still reminding me that it's not all about me and that she loves being at a place where the troubles are all the same ,and Everybody Knows Your Name.

Cheers!

Sunday, May 31, 2015

The Longing of Her Heart


Proverbs 13:12 (NIV) – “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”
Those who know me know that I work hard to model my life after the (Holy) Scriptures. Those who don’t know me, if you follow my posts long enough, you’ll soon learn that about me <smile> Today’s post is centered on my opening words from the Bible.

I’ve fretted over the past few months every time I visit with mom. For over six months now, we’ve had the same conversation. This past week was no different. As I walked into her room, there was evidence once again that she was hoping to go home. Family portraits were stacked neatly on her dresser top. Clothing was stacked in a pile on her bed. She had removed from her walls the precious pictures made by budding artists, aka her great-grandchildren.
She was at dinner when I entered her room. My countenance fell as I was struck once again by the reality that mom wanted to go home, and I had to be the bad-guy who would once again tell her that ‘this is your new home’ (at the Nursing Home). Silently, I played the script in my head. Mom starts with, “I’m so glad I’m going home today.” Me, with great caution, “No, you are already home.” Joan (mom) shouts, “what? I don’t want to live here, why can’t I go home?” Me (Cindy) gently, “Because it isn’t safe for you there anymore.” Joan groaning defensively, “But, I can walk, I can talk, I can do everything by myself.” Cindy sadly, “I know you can and I’m so proud of you!”

Often over the past few weeks, I’ve wondered why this conversation wounds me so. Then it stuck me. Even with Alzheimer’s, there’s a hope deep within Mother’s spirit that she will once again be able to do the things she once did - that she will gather around our home table for a meal, at which she will be normal and whole again.
I can’t fulfill the longing of her heart. I feel so helpless. But, we serve a God who knows our needs, both mine and Joan’s. He cares for us like no earthly being can. He gives us ideas to help those we love, even when we are hopeless.

In my next post, I’ll share the idea I’ve stumbled upon. It’s not “home”, but it’s a chance for mom to feel somewhat normal and keep all of us from drowning in “hope deferred.” Stay tuned…