Wednesday, April 25, 2012

It is Soooooo Quiet

No bowls of milk.   No waiting for a ride.  No pacing.  No fussing.

She is happy today....and THAT makes me happy.

Monday, April 23, 2012

The Bowl of Milk

It happened again today.  I went downstairs to the dining room and found Mom's place setting all arranged on the table:  placemat, knife, fork, spoon, napkin, glass, bread plate, soupbowl.  Nothing  really odd about that, except that she was nowhere to be seen, and the soupbowl was totally FULL of milk.  Milk.   Right to the brim.

This happened twice last week, but the bowl was a small, dessert-type bowl.   Both times, I just dumped the bowl and went about my day.   Today, I thought I might approach the mystery.

Since I was busy fixing lunch for the two of us, I left the bowl in place.  When she came down, I pointed it out and asked if she knew anything about it.   She didn't.  So I tried a different approach and asked if she had been wanting a bowl of cereal at midmorning.   She didn't. 

I suppose the muffin elf, who is still very busy here in the house, is thirsty but doesn't use a glass.

I think I am missing the message.  Where is Hercule Poirot when you need him?




Friday, April 13, 2012

A Bath????????????? !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What is it about little kids and little old ladies with AD? Is it *really* so awful to get clean?

Thursday, April 12, 2012

The Muffin Elf

Okay, I am catching up today, so two posts.

A confession: My mother is a Muffin Elf. She loves muffins. Cranberry-orange ones. She eats them...lots of them. Every day. About 4 of them, actually. In secret, most of the time, although we know she is doing it (we buy the muffins, after all). They just disappear from the box and she has no idea where they have gone. Ever. Sometimes, she shares with the wonderful woman who does respite care for us. Mostly, not.

Her other favorite food: Nutri-Grain bars. Several per day. A whole box, if she could.

Mind you, she is VERY thin. You would think that she would gain a lot, but she never does.

She still eats her dinner. For a while, she just pushed it around on her plate, but lately she is actually cleaning her plate.

We've noticed that she is is pretty indifferent to most foods, but loves things that are sweet. So, add a tiny touch of honey to her carrots and she eats them up; a dab of apricot jam on her ham sandwich and she will finish it, instead of eating two bites. Although the constant sweetening doesn't appeal to my husband or to me, she finds it irresistible and it helps her to get a better variety of foods down. She still hates vegetables, can't stand fruit (unless it is in jam) and is, at best, indifferent to most everything else. She only picks at meats, pasta is ignored. "I'm not hungry," she'll say, immediately followed with "Is there anything for dessert?"

Her doctor says it is probable that she can only taste sweet foods. And, if she eats at least something nutritious every day, that the muffins and bars are okay.

She admits only to eating a single muffin every day. But the muffins disappear. The bars disappear.

There must be an Elf.

The "Ride" is undependable...

For the last several months, Mom has kept her suitcase and a small overnight bag packed and ready to go. She keeps a close watch on the driveway and door, expecting her ride to appear at any minute. The ride/driver is apparently a "cousin" of her mother's (which means he would be at least 110 years old). I don't know if he was a real person or not. I had never heard of him before she developed AD.

Of course, he never comes. In my effort to "go along" with all her notions, I've been just watching and seeing what she does. A week or so ago, she was again waiting and pacing back and forth in her impatience for him to arrive. After a few checks at the door (which we have now alarmed) I went to see what was up.

When I asked what was going on, she said she was waiting for her ride.

I "ummmm-ed" a bit, then I finally said that I didn't really expect him.

She bristled. "Why not? she demanded.

"Well...I've been thinking about this," I replied. "It seems that he's not very dependable about coming. One day, he told you 10 times; another even more, then Monday, it was a half-dozen, yesterday 9, and now this is the 14th time today. If he really meant to come, wouldn't he be here by now? He must be having a tough time getting here, at his age."

She actually thought about this for a while. Then, I almost fell over when she agreed.

She picked up her suitcase and went back to her room. The suitcase and overnight bag are still packed, in her room. But, she is not hanging out at the door at all hours of the day and night.

Going along may actually work.