It was about a year ago this month that we moved Mom out of her house and into a small apartment at a very nice 'retirement' facility. It really is nice. Not like one of those places that smell like urine the minute you walk through the front door. I used to go into those places to fix the med machines and I could always tell which were nice, and which were shit holes just by the aroma. Anyway, Mom was not happy about the move. She did not want to leave the home she and Dad had built nearly thirty years ago. I can understand that. On the very first evening that Mom was in her new apartment I got a call. It was Mom.
"Alan, do you know what they did to me?"
"Um.... "
"They kidnapped me and put me in this place. I don't even know where I am."
So I had to explain to Mom that I was one of the 'they' she was talking about, and I had to tell her just why she was there. I also had to give her explicit details on exactly where she was in relation to her old home. That might have been a mistake, because she probably started planning her escape that very evening. Luckily they have people watching the doors and Mom wasn't going anywhere soon. For weeks and months I continued to visit her every Wednesday for lunch, just as I did when she lived in her own house. I got to meet her 103 year old table mate and a few of the other characters there. Funny thing, it's a lot like a high school. There are cliques. I'm sure one of those cliques is comprised of mean girls who made it to old age, because they always gave us a sort of sneering stare when Mom and I passed by their table. For many months Mom was pissed about being "dumped" there. No matter that she was getting more visitors than any other resident, she felt abandoned. Then right around the beginning of March when she seemed to be settling in, the goddamned covid19 thing happened and the place was quarantined. Nobody in or out except for employees. We've been able to do 'facetime' on the computer with her. We've also had a couple of supervised outdoor visits where Mom was kept at least eight feet away from her visitors. At eight feet it's hard to determine her moods. But now a funny thing has happened. Mom seems to be happy there. I call her on her new high fidelity phone and she seems happy. I assume that because she hasn't asked me to help her escape in months.
(I feel like I am commenting too much, but here I go again) My mom is 95 this year and sharp as a tack, she's literally clinically crazy, but ya, can still do complicated math in her head and can remember addresses for everyone she pays bills to, etc. She is in assisted living and again, you are describing exactly what we went through when we moved her into her place. Because of what we went through with her, I have already told my kids that when it comes time, they need to just plough me over, force me to sign the power of atty., and send me to Happy Acres, because at some point, even highly intelligent persons with all their marbles will refuse to do what is necessary for their well being. Good luck, and say "hey!" to your mom and her friends from me! (they will wonder why some stranger is saying "hey!" but inside, somewhere deep they will try to figure out how they know me...lol)
ReplyDeleteI got to visit with Mom yesterday. They let her go outside and sit eight feet away from us. We all have to wear masks, which is a problem for Mom since she kind of reads lips along with her failing hearing. She's 98 years old, going on 99.
Delete