Mine occurred on a Tuesday afternoon just as I was walking out of a class at Southeast Technical College. For several months, I had noticed that my mother was getting a little more forgetful about her weekly activities. As she had always been strong-willed, I had gone along with her explanation that the forgetfulness was just due to having too many things going on at the time. But now, the director of her senior apartment complex was calling to let me know that Mom was very confused, distrait, and had been inconsolably emotional throughout the day.
The director explained that she believed my mom had an early stage of dementia and should be evaluated by her doctor. At the time, I was still in a moment of disbelief; this person who I had known for all of my life and who had not only been in control of her own life but mine as well was now “possibly” unable to handle daily activities. However, I called the clinic to make an appointment with her physician for the next day. Later that afternoon, I went to Mom’s apartment to see for myself the situation. I could tell that she had been upset but was relatively calm and collective now. She admitted, however, that she had been confused about dates and the times of the week. I later told her about the doctor’s appointment I had made for the following day, and she seemed to acknowledge it by saying, “That’s a good idea.” However, when I left in the early evening, she didn’t seem to remember why we were going to her doctor.
During the drive back home, I knew that this was one of those times that would change both our lives. I don’t know how or what lies down this path, but I can only go forward, as I’ve said before. I would love to wish that this wasn’t happening to my mother and hope that I didn’t need to deal with the responsibility, but it is happening to her, and it is my responsibility as her only caretaker.
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