How Alzheimer's, a memory facility and the elderly taught me the meaning of Life

This episode takes you through how Alzheimer’s, a memory facility, and the elderly

taught me the meaning of life. It's a lot simpler than you may think!

Transcript

“It’s the Salt for me” 

Season 2, Episode 4 

How Alzheimer’s, a memory facility, and the elderly  

taught me the meaning of life 

Hey! Welcome to Season 2, Episode 4 of “It’s the Salt for me,” brought to you by “The Salty Christian.” I’m your host, Marie, and I’ll be posting new episodes every other Tuesday. 

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This week I want to tell you about how Alzheimer’s, a memory facility, and the elderly taught me the meaning of life.  

I think I started really noticing things after my grandmother passed away. She lived to be ninety-nine years old. She travelled the world.  She lived a life. A few weeks after the funeral, we had to go and clean out one of her houses. We took a few things, but for the most part, nobody wanted her stuff. We donated some, threw some out, and that was that. 99 years and everything was gone. It was like she had never been here. It got me thinking; what was the point of having any of this “stuff”? It means nothing, yet so many people are so materialistic. All they want is more and more stuff. More and more money.  

I have a house full of stuff too. But why? The only things that means anything to me in it besides my family are a few trinkets that have sentimental value and my pictures. Other than that, I don’t need any of it. I surely can’t take any of it with me when I die.  

It was a little different when I lost my dad. Mom was still living in the house, so we didn’t have to clear anything out. My mom had been forgetting things. A lot more than I knew and as it turned out to be a lot longer than I knew. Me and my family had moved to Georgia before my dad passed, but we still talked a lot. My dad had said they were coming to live with us as soon as he got better – which was great because I had already told them that I wanted them to. Cancer had other plans. I lost my dad in December of 2016. My mom seemed to get worse after that. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s shortly after. She came to live with us a few months later. It was manageable for a while, but she really wanted to go home. Unfortunately, we couldn’t let her. She would get quite pissed and I completely understood. She was taken away from her home. Where all of her “stuff” was. Her friends. Everything she knew. I felt bad for her. She came to my house with a suitcase full of clothes.  

In the beginning, it wasn’t so bad. We had an o.k. time. She was forgetting how to do lots of things. Growing up, you could eat off the floor in our house, and mom could cook some food! She made sure she was put together every day. She got her hair and nails done. Girlfriend looked good. She went to church every Sunday. She was in the choir. She was an usher – or ursher as she called it. She prayed a lot and taught me a lot about God.  

When she got to our house, we watched my mom decline more and more every day. We ended up having to stop her from “cleaning up” because she could no longer do it. Well, we didn’t really stop her so much as give her some easier things she could do like dusting. We tried letting her cook one day, but she couldn’t remember how. When she got annoyed about it, my husband would tell her she could clean the blinds. If looks could kill, he would’ve been dead, cause lets face it: nobody wants to clean the damn blinds. When we went out, we couldn’t leave her side because it would really scare her. We couldn’t leave her at home without someone being there with her. We couldn’t go anywhere without mom. After a while, being a caregiver weighs on you. You have to take care of yourself – which is something we really do because it was all about making sure my girl was good.  At times, part of me (and my husband) felt resentful. Then guilty for feeling resentful. We would mostly feel resentful when she would get an attitude. She used to call my sisters and brothers and sneak off to another room to tell them that all we do is make her cook and clean and that we don’t do anything. She would ask them to come and get her and take her home. She told one of my sisters that she would wait by the front door and when she saw her car she’d run out and they could leave. I was DEAD! I thought it was hilarious. My husband didn’t. He thought they might really believe what she was saying. She once told a total stranger that she would pay them to take her home. One day she got out of the house. My husband went upstairs and when he came down, she was gone. He called me at work to let me know they (him and our son) were looking for her. TF?! He had one job. Anyway, I was speeding home in a panic. I was praying that God let a good person find her.  My son ended up finding her. She had left our HOA and turned onto the main road and was speed walking for her life. It turns out that a nurse was on her way to work and thought it odd to see this elderly lady walking on the main road alone, so she stopped. She sat my mom in her car and called the police who called the fire department and an ambulance. That’s where our son found her. On the side of the road with all these sirens. It was a scene, man. When me and my husband drove up, my first thought was, “O.k., TF? Secondly, TF?! God know what she is telling these people. They were looking at us a little sideways cause, how’d she get out of the house? They were probably thinking, TF?! They asked us some questions and we calmed my mom down and took her home. That’s when I had to take her credit cards, debit cards and money from her, cause if she had ran into the wrong person, they could have taken her for everything she had and left her on the side of the road – or worse! The bolt on that door was always locked after that and you need a key to get out. Everything was good. The next week, Social Services dropped by, and my husband was like, TF?! They left and we never heard from anyone about this again. It was rough.  

If someone had told me years ago that I would be caring for my mother with Alzheimer's, I would have called them a liar. Being a caregiver is not for the weak. It is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I certainly couldn’t have done it without my husband. Later we found a daycare for her to go to during the day so she could be around other people with similar memory issues. She enjoyed that. It was like taking my child to school for the first time. We’d walk in and she’d say hi to everybody and be gone. Didn’t even say bye half the time. It was sweet. After I would pick her up, when we were on the way home, she would tell me how some of the people there had some issues that they were dealing with, but she would help them along. About a week later, it came to my attention that she thought this was her job. I never corrected her because, why? She felt good “working” and she was happy when she was there.  

Things got worse over time. A lot worse. We did this for ten years. We were having some family come to town and decided to place her in a memory facility temporarily. Just to get a little break and spend time with family. I was dreading it. I kept telling myself that it was only a month (you had to be there at least a month) and after they left, I could go get her earlier.  

The day finally came to drop her off. It killed my soul. I didn’t think I was going to make it, I hurt so bad. I cried and cried and cried. What kind of selfish bitch would put a parent in a facility? We put her in a week before the family came to make sure it was going to work. We went to see her every day, sometimes twice a day. She had a lot of people to talk to. Everyone was very nice. It was clean and they did activities with them. She still wanted to go home – but not to my home. To her house. A doctor told me that she would always want to go home. He was right. There was one woman who would wait for the bus daily all dressed up with her purse so she could go to work. Then, she’d be pissed when the bus didn’t show up and she was going to complain to “corporate.” She was an accountant earlier in life. We met a judge. She was so kind. Still had it together so we weren’t sure why she was there - we found out later. There were so many people from different backgrounds there. There was a woman there who sang all the time. Loudly. She got on people’s nerves with her singing, but she was such a sweetheart. Truth be told, we were in the South. We knew half of these people wouldn’t given us the time of day back in their day because I am black and my husband is English, but there, color didn’t matter. These people who we came to care for just wanted to be spoken to. Hugged. They wanted to feel like they were loved.  

After our family left, I kept mom there for a couple more weeks. It wasn’t far from us, and we would visit every day. One month turned into two and then three. Part of me knew that if I took her back home, I would never put her in another facility again. That wouldn’t have been good for my mental health. I was sad and depressed a lot. Kind of withdrew from people. This is the part of me that thought it was better to keep her there. I could be her daughter again. We would pick her up and take her out all the time. We also got to know the other “inmates” as my sister would call them.  

These people we had come to know were a hoot! We couldn’t go in without spending time with all of them. We didn’t mind. It broke our hearts that most of them would never have a visitor. It was like their families dropped them off and never came back. I’m not sure how that happens. They would light up when they’d see us. Tell us how much they loved us. Ask for another hug. Hold our hands. It was beautiful. And sad.  

We would play games with them. Let them listen to music. Man, do they like music! We would dance. They would remember the songs and sing along. It was the darndest thing. They would tell us stories – that they made up as they went along, of course. I’d look out the window to see where that bus was that never came.  

One day I went in to find all my mom’s clothes gone. They were all thieves. My mom included. Half the time I would go in there and they had on each other’s clothes or prescription glasses that weren’t theirs. A purse, a book. You name it. I didn’t get upset; I just bought her new clothes.  

I think the judge was the only one who didn’t steal but she was wheelchair bound. She would stay in her room a lot. Me and my husband would go and sit in her room for a while with her on every visit. She was missing some things in her room. She told us that my mom and a couple other ladies would go in her room with gang-like mentality and steal her stuff. We died!  

My mom was at that facility for about 2.5 years. Management changed and all hell really broke loose. It wasn’t the same place. We moved her to another one, where she still is today. Talk about a beautiful place to be. They do so much with them. We got to know a whole other group of inmates. Just as sweet as can be.  

Mom gets angry from time to time. Don’t blame her one bit. It still kills me when she begs me to take her home. Visitors for these new people are sparse as well so we do our best to sit with or speak to them all.  

Lately, my mom doesn’t want anyone to give her a shower. She gets mad and tries to fight them. Curses them out. They can’t make her so what do ya do? I go there to give her a thorough scrub. Normally she would let me, but not this particular day. She was having none of it. I was in the room with her trying to calm her down so she would get in. Now, if you know my mom, you’d know that is not her personality. She must’ve told me “I ain’t shit” about a thousand times. You know what I said? You right mom, I ain’t shit! I was cracking up in my head. I go along with anything she says. I don’t correct her or any of that. What for? She eventually got in for me. 

A few months ago, she got a boyfriend. I think it’s the greatest thing ever. He can calm her. They whisper to each other how much they love each other. Hold hands. It’s so cute. He loves him some mom! I’ve seen some people get upset when this happens, and I can’t for the life of me understand why. They give each other a little happiness. The clincher…his name is the same as my dad’s! Yeah…that’ a little creepy. But it’s still alright. I love seeing it. He tells my husband that she is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. Can’t tell him enough how much he loves her. It makes my soul happy.  

How did I learn the meaning of life? Sometimes I sit around and just look at these people. Alzheimer's doesn’t discriminate. It’s funny because they came into this world as naïve children. They lived these lives that they can’t even remember. Now, they are like naïve children again. If they were prejudiced, they aren’t anymore. If they were mean, they aren’t anymore (most of them). If they were quiet, they aren’t anymore. If they were nice, sometimes they aren’t so nice anymore. If they didn’t speak their mind, they do now. If they had a bunch of material things, they don’t now. If they have a bunch of money to spend, they probably still have it, but they don’t care about it now. If they never said I love you, they do now.  

No matter what they were before, they are now opera singers, dancers, comedians, helpers, and the list goes on.  They make sure we know they love us and thank us for coming to visit them because that’s all that matters. 

Some people treat the elderly like they don’t matter. Like they have nothing left to contribute. They are set aside because people don’t want to be bothered. They are left in a facility. Alone. I’ve learned the true meaning of life from someone you care about. One of the biggest honors of my life is to take care of my mom and let these strangers know that they are loved and cared about. They don’t care about stuff.   Besides loving each other and helping each other, nothing else in life really matters. Imagine what the world would be like if we all treated each other with kindness, lent a helping hand. In the end, it’s not what you had that matters. It’s the love that you gave. The kindness you showed. Our memories are all we really have when we’re older and that’s if you’re one of the lucky ones.  

I would give anything to be able to have another real conversation with my mom. If you love someone, make sure they know. If someone needs a hand, help them. Compliment people. Feed people. Clothe people. Pray for people. In life, that’s all that matters. 

I hope you’ve enjoyed this episode. And I hope this will encourage you to make sure people know how much they mean to you. Your love and your time is what they will remember because nothing else matters. 

I again invite you to subscribe, share and comment. 

I’ll catch you on the next episode of “It’s the Salt for Me.” Until then, be blessed and be a blessing.