Night Watch

The portal strikes again.

Last night, after mom had gone to bed, my husband discovered a packed overnight bag in the entry hallway. Mom's. We figured she was planning her "escape" and put the suitcase out in the garage, to slow her escape if nothing else.

An hour or so later, her bedroom light began to go off and on.

(The design of our house is of a central conservatory, with sliding glass doors from the upstairs bedrooms leading to balconies within the conservatory. Since the ceiling is cathedral, the area above the glass doors is also glass, and though curtains cover the doors themselves, the glass above is not covered. Thus, lights in her room shine out through the conservatory, and into the area above our balcony doors, and we can see them easily.)

When the lights finally settled down, I heard stealthy creeping along the hallway.

(We leave our bedroom door slightly open, for the cat to come and go, and to keep an ear out for her wanderings.)

I got up and through the crack in the doorway, saw her standing at the top of the stairs, looking out the window above the front door. She was dressed and --for once -- wearing a coat.

Then:
Me: Do you need something, Mom?
Mom: No.
Me: Why are you standing here?
Mom: Waiting for my ride.
Me: Ride? In the middle of the night?
Mom: Friends are coming to pick me up. They just called and are on their way.
Me: Who are these friends?
Mom: People I know.
Me: Do I know them?
Mom: Yes, they have come here twice before. We had a picnic.

(Not true. One, she has never had visitors from Florida here, and two, I confess that I am NOT a picnic sort of person. I can't sit on the ground, have terrible allergies, am very pale and sun sensitive, and much prefer a screened porch. Picnic? Not in this lifetime.)

Me: Oh, what are their names?
Mom: Um................
Me: Where do they live?
Mom: Pensacola.
Me: Are they coming from Pensacola to pick you up, then?
Mom: Yes. They said they would be here in a few minutes. They just called.
Me: You do realize that Pensacola is a three-day drive from here, don't you? Do your friends know you are living in MA?
Mom: Yes, they were here before. I am going to spend the night with them.
Me: Well, we are having an ice storm. They may not know that. Perhaps we should call them back and tell them to pick a day with better weather.
Mom: Okay.

(At this point, I go and get her cell phone. No calls have been received since the 15th. When I point this out, she says it was on the "other" phone in her room. So, I go look, and yes, she does have a land line in her room. It has NO WIRES at all. The handset is not connected to the phone, the phone is not connected to the wall, except for electricity and thus a clock display. No calls.)

Me: Maybe you were dreaming?
Mom: NO! I WAS NOT DREAMING!
Me: Tell me more about these people.
Mom: Um................ (long pause)...........they were friends of Daddy's.
Me: Your father or mine?
Mom: Not MY father!
Me: My father, then. Hank. His age?
Mom: Um........... yes.
Me: If they were his friends, and the same age, they must be pretty old, then. Dad would be 90 now. It seems odd that folks that old would be planning such a long trip in the middle of the night.
Mom: No. they want me to visit, spend the night.
Me: You said you were going to spend the night with them. Does that mean you were going to Pensacola with them? Taking a trip? They are driving three days here to get you, then three days back to Pensacola for you to spend one night with them?
Mom: No.
Me: So, a longer visit, then? A week or so? Or to a hotel around here?
Mom: No.
Me. If I am understanding this correctly, you are planning to go off, in the middle of the night, without telling us, with people whose names you don't know, to some location you don't know, for some amount of time that is not clear, to spend the night with them?
Mom: I know them.
Me: Then what are their names. I am concerned for your safety.
Mom: Um........ (suddenly looking very sly) No.
Me: No what?
Mom: No names.
Me: Because you can't tell me?
Mom: No. (Now looking VERY sly)
Me: Or because you don't want to tell me?
Mom. Maybe.
Me: Now, if it takes them three days to get here, do you plan to sit here at the top of the stairs for all that time?
Mom: Yes.
Me. Well, since I can't let you go off with someone I can't remember, I guess I will just have to sit here with you.


(Now, I must tell you, I have read a lot of the advice about dealing with Alzheimer's patients and they all basically say to go along with everything they dream up. Go with the flow. I even made myself a wall hanging to remind myself of that mantra. But...I have a really tough time with it, and by this time (an hour or more into this scene, in the middle of the night) I am really losing my patience, my temper is flaring. I *want* to tell her that this is all a hallucination, part of a disease, all made up in her mind. I'm exasperated and completely out of patience. Deep breaths. Count to a thousand. We are keeping my husband awake and he has to get up and go to work in just a couple of hours. Not good.)

(Some time passes, I regain some composure.)


Me: Well, it seems that they are delayed in getting here. How long shall we wait before we give up and go to bed?
Mom: Half an hour.
Me. Okay, let me get my cell phone so we can keep track of the time.
Mom: Um.........
Me: Let's start the half hour now.
Mom: Okay.

(The half hour passes. I have given updates every ten minutes.)

Me: Well, then, the half hour is gone and they are not here. Perhaps they have given up. What shall we do next?
Mom: I guess, just go to bed.

(She gets up from the bench, teeters off to her room, and firmly shuts the door. Not *quite* a slam. Close. I go back to bed. She continues to put the lights off and on for about an hour. I stay sleepless for a much longer time. Morning comes. The suitcase, never mentioned, is still in the garage. After a while, I will empty it and quietly return her clothes to her with her clean laundry. We won't ever bring it up with her.)

Another day, another night, another adventure. Dear spirits, I'm tired.

The boys in the Truck

First thing this morning, Mom appeared at my bedroom door with a request that I take her somewhere. Where? She did not know. But she HAD to go. Someone had passed away, a lady, and she had to go to comfort her boys. What is the lady's name? Doesn't know, can't remember. What are the boy's names? Doesn't know, can't remember. Last week, it was one of the boys who passed away and she needed to go see the lady. Apparently, reports of his death were incorrect.

How did she find out? Her TV (the portal). She says that since I can't take her to somewhere she can't help me find, she will contact the boys (through the portal, naturally) and have them pick her up. They have a big truck. I said okay, but when they came I wanted to meet with them to find out where she would be, and maybe I could give them a sympathy card for the loss of their mom.

It will never happen, of course. But I am slowly learning to "go along" with her hallucinations. Last week, I argued, and it did not go well. Everything I read about AD says "don't argue about anything" unless it is dangerous for her or others, so I am biting my tongue (IFI still have one?!!!!) and going along.

I suspect the entire thing is because I have a good friend whose husband passed away on New Year's day. When I told my DH, she was in the room and said that she felt very sad. That probably sparked the first hallucination -- of the boy's passing. Yesterday, we went to the funeral, and now it is all once again fresh in her mind.

When she left my room, I pointed out that she had not yet had her breakfast and that she certainly couldn't go off with an empty stomach. So she is eating now, and will probably forget the whole thing soon. I hope so.

Now, to just hope that a truckload of 50-year-old boys don't appear in my driveway...........

Introduction to the Portal

The Portal. That is what my husband and I call the inoperative digital photo frame in Mom's room. She spends hours staring at it every day, and hates to be interrupted. She sees things in it that no one else can see. They are real, to her. More real than any of her "real" surroundings.

The frame used to have photos in it. Not now. She took the memory card out (it was a dead battery, she says) and threw it away. Or hid it. She has repeatedly taken the battery out and replaced it - backwards. Or she hides it. We have a lot of treasure hunts.

So, though the rest of us see nothing on the blank glass, it is fascinating to her. She has created a whole world of new relatives and friends in the frame. She has shut out all of her "real" friends -- the ones who are alive and well, and concerned about her well being. The imaginary ones are more real to her, more deserving of her attention and affection. It is sad, and hard for her friends to understand.

These portal friends are becoming worrisome, though, because they seem to be luring her out to share their adventures and she is starting to talk about going places to meet with them. Places outside the house. And she is becoming more and more secretive. I'm afraid that she will begin to wander.

I know that this is a phase, and she will eventually go beyond this stage of the disease, just as she has progressed beyond the seemingly endless repetition of stories and questions.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring?