Mom and Cleo, 6/5/09Today is Mom's birthday. She's 87, and going stronger than imagination can fathom. Every time I think she's heading for her final decline, she rallies. Some months ago I was sure she'd be gone by or around Christmas, but now I think she could keep going another year or longer. Her weight keeps dropping; at last measure 2 weeks ago, she was down to 98 lbs. with all her clothes and shoes on. But she is strong, strong, strong.
I can't believe she's happy to be alive. Nothing brings her happiness anymore, and the only things she likes to do are eating and sleeping. Her level of awareness, while low, still shows some amazing windows of clarity. She can be sitting in her wheelchair, eyes closed, refusing to respond, and then you ask her if she wants some chocolate. She still won't open her eyes, but up comes her hand, as she reaches for the chocolate. And if you tell her she needs to do something before she can go to bed, she will stop resistance and cooperate. But I don't think she knows I'm her daughter. She knows both me and Jeanne, but I don't know that she recognizes us beyond "those people who are always making me do what I don't want to," like drink, transfer from the chair or bed to any place else, get dressed, etc. She does usually recognize that I play the good cop and Jeanne plays the bad cop (Jeanne does enforcer better than I do).
We took her off both Aricept and Namenda. We were told it would accelerate her decline. If anything, she seems more alert now. Someone said that she's clearly not ready to die yet, though we don't know why she isn't ready to let go. So we keep schlepping on, trying to stay whole and healthy and sane. Then again, were we ever all three?
