It’s the look. The look that chills. It’s the look which says:
“Do I know you? And if I do, who are you?”
That was how Mum welcomed me today. She was sitting in the “quiet room” and was given no advance warning of my arrival. Usually I tell people Mum knows she knows me but isn’t sure why. Today, I couldn’t even say that. I hate dementia.
Today wasn’t a good day for Mum. In fact the last few days haven’t been very positive. She’s been low and a bit withdrawn. The carer who looks after her was sufficiently concerned to call the doctor. He couldn’t diagnose anything specific and suspects it’s possibly the next stage of her Alzheimer’s.
As a family, we know what’s happening and what’s going to happen. Even so, when what’s going to happen starts happening, knowing about it is no preparation.
Ironically, as Mum didn’t seem sure who was sitting with her, she was sure of many of the words of the songs we sang.
She doesn’t know me but she does know the words to Oh What a Beautiful Mornin’. Irony doesn’t start to describe it. She laughed as we sang – some consolation but I left today feeling more empty than usual.