8-20-21 Coping with memory loss, re-experiencing grief

(Tricia)

I've been to see her the past three nights, and each night is a different experience. Tuesday night, she was convinced the year was 1965, and she asked whether Mother knew where she was. Ed and I both tried to remind her as gently as possible that the year was 2021, and Mother had passed away in 2002. At first, she did not believe it, but as the realization slowly dawned that what we were saying was true, the expression on her face showed that she was reliving that grief all over again. After she processed the information, eventually she said, “I can’t believe that she’s really gone.”  Later that evening, a technician came to her room to X-ray her shoulder, to see if she had done any damage to it from her fall a couple days before (luckily, it seems that she had only bruised it).

Wednesday night was incredibly quiet. I got there just as she had refused her dinner. I took the tray back to her and asked why she was refusing to eat, and she responded that it was because “she didn’t want to eat alone.” I had brought dinner as well, so I ate with her. She ate her entire meal, thank goodness. Later, though, I asked her how she was feeling, and she said, “Lonely.” 

I told her how much I wished she could use her phone so that we could be in contact more consistently throughout the day, and she asked to see it.  I always have it with me, so I gave it to her. She couldn’t get her code into correctly (although I could tell she remember the unlock code, she just couldn’t hit the right spots on the screen), but once we unlocked her phone, I made a test call to her. She was able to answer the phone herself, and then end the call. So that skill is still there!  But after that, she was immediately tired. We had the nurse come in to get her into bed early. We spoke a little, although I couldn't understand most of what she said (the more tired she is, the harder it is to form her thoughts clearly).

Last night, though, was incredibly busy. She was awake and in her wheelchair when I arrived. I had brought her favorite—a large cup of unsweetened ice tea from Captain D’s—and her face immediately lit up! She grabbed her cup and asked me to pour her the tea and add a little Sweet’n Low, and she enjoyed drinking that tea all evening. (I just hope the caffeine didn’t keep her awake!)  We watched the news (which isn’t all that pleasant these days, but it does keep her connected to the “now.”) When I asked her what year it was, she said it was 1966. Of course, I told her that would be an act of time-travel, since I wasn’t born until 1969!  At that point, I asked her questions about her life—when and where she was born, where she lived, where she went to high school, where she worked. I wanted her to talk about what she does remember, rather than what she doesn’t.

Then, I took her for a walk around the facility, and we went to the courtyard in back and sat there for about 30 minutes. She said she enjoyed being outside for a change. Once we were back inside, I asked her to wheel herself for a little while, just to work up her strength, and she was able to do so for quite a while before asking me to take over.

Throughout the evening, her speech was really clear and I understood almost everything she said. But as it grew later, her memory began fading. Once again, she asked whether Mother knew where she was. We had the same conversation as we did Tuesday night, and I watched the same expressions of newly experienced grief pass over her face. At this point, I asked if, the next time we have this conversation, would she prefer that I not tell her that Mother was gone, so that she would not have to go through this again? I was surprised at her answer. She said, “No, I need to know.” She then asked about where she was living now, and where her house was. She had so much trouble believing that she no longer lived in the white stucco house she had in town when I was growing up.  I noticed that she was looking up at the ceiling with a pained, thoughtful look, and when I asked her what she was thinking, she said, “These are things I should just know. But they’re just not there.”

I asked her, then, if there was a list that I could type up for her, with this information listed, that she could read when she needed reminders.  We already have a sheet typed up and placed next to her bed that explains where she is and why she's there. She asked me to type up another list with information such as where her house is, where Mother is, and what car she drives. So, I’ll do that and leave it with her tonight.

Last night was doubly emotional, because I wasn’t just sad for her in that moment, but in a way, I also had to reprocess the grief with her, even though Mother died more than 19 years ago. It’s a real reminder of the members of our family that we have lost, and how small our little family has become. It is lonely to know that it’s just the three of us left now. We have all done our best to come to terms with this, but Linda’s now having to come to terms all over again.