Early to bed, early to rise

I peek through the doorway and see her on the bed, covered with a white cotton blanket. She lies still, curled up in the fetal position.

I touch her shoulder. “Are you awake?” Soft breathing is the reply.

Sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, I lean over and gently stroke her back. Her curly salt and pepper hair peeks out above the warm blanket. She sleeps deeply – in the late morning.

Late morning? What would my mother say about that?

It just seems like just the other day that Mum was trying to get me up for school.

“Denise, it’s time to get up.”

Ten minutes later she’d climb the stairs again.

“Denise, now! You’re going to be late for school!”

At least that’s the story she told me. You see, I never heard her. But when I ran down the stairs  clothing askew, dropping books in my wake, with only two minutes to get ready, demanding to know why she hadn’t woken me up… Well, that’s the story she told me, every time!

Mum is a morning person. “Early to bed. Early to rise.” I look at the bed. Well, at least she was.

Let’s journey together.

© 2011 Denise Budd Rumble

Reality of no time or space

There is a place of no time with no boundaries of space or place. It is a place where one can be young and old. New jobs and old, loved ones long gone from this earth and new friends – all mingle together in a cacophony of emotions and goings on.

It is a place where thinking and worrying and turning a problem over and over in one’s mind for days, sometimes weeks, brings about a concrete solution – a concrete “thing” – so that the worry passes and action ensues.

One can enjoy their children as young needing care, and as grown with spouses and children of their own. One can converse about the every day, the new job of a child or grandchild, the upcoming journey, the course of a school year, and about the present daily happenings of a parent long passed into glory.

There is no time continuum. There are no boundaries. Imagination becomes reality. There are no limits to the realization of our fondest dreams and longings.

This place is called “dementia brought on by small blood vessel disease.”

As the child I watch as my mother lives her days in a morphed combination of past and present. For now she is in a happy place and I pray it stays so.

She and I converse. “How are you doing?” she asks.

“I’m well, Mum. Busy with my job – but it’s good.”

“And your hubby – is he enjoying his semi-retirement? How about the children?”

And I wonder how old she thinks “the children” are, but she continues and asks if my youngest is finished university yet, and I realize that for this moment she is very much in the present and in tune with my reality.

She listens to my answers and then continues, “I talked to my Mam this morning. She was wondering when I’d be able to come home…”

And so in the exhale of a breath she is years and continents away, but every bit in her present and her reality as I am.

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2010

Wait! It's just a new look.

Please don’t go. You are in the right place.

Yes, it looks different, but I wasn’t “feeling” the look of my blog anymore. You see the previous header had a beautiful ocean view. It was wide and open and beautiful, and you could see for miles. But, these days I feel like I can’t see very far ahead of me.

I haven’t travelled this particular road before – this road of dementia. I feel like I’m in a tunnel and I can’t see if there’s any light at the end of it. In fact, I can’t even see far in front of me, let alone the end of the tunnel.

The tunnel has a lot of twists and turns. Sometimes it feels like my car is the only one in the tunnel. I’m behind the wheel, but I’m not in control. But, neither is the dementia in control.

Regardless of the twists and turns, the unknowns and the potholes, I know that God is with me. He holds my hand. He knows where we’re going. He knows the tunnel and will help me navigate it safely. The journey may be bumpy and frightening at times. But then I remember, I’m not alone. And, neither is my Mum.

So, we carry on, you and I. Each of us on our journeys. Sometimes our paths will cross. Other times we’ll cheer each other on, because support and encouragement fuel us so we can continue our journey.

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2010

It's too difficult…

Do you ever feel like throwing in the towel?

Just before Christmas, Mum was diagnosed with small blood vessel disease. The blood circulation to her brain is faulty and it is not getting the oxygen it needs. It’s also called vascular dementia. Two of the manifestations are mental confusion and hallucinations. There is no cure.

My sister’s phone number must be the first one of her list and she gets the majority of calls. But, the phone calls to me are increasing. Nearly every call is coloured with urgency. “I’ve just had a shock.” “I have a situation here.” I know she phones my brother as well.

It’s difficult to hear that Grandma is visiting, or that Aunty has gone out and she doesn’t know when she’ll be back, or “I’m just waiting for your Dad to come home.” Both Grandma and Dad have been gone for years and Aunty lives in England and is unable to travel on her own.

It’s difficult to visit and sit and have a conversation and become hopeful and optimistic because it’s as normal a conversation as I’ve ever had with Mum and then hear her say, “I’ve just been wondering about my furniture. What will happen to it when I go back home to England?”

It’s difficult when I stay for supper with her and she wonders how I can afford to come all that way. “It’s expensive traveling from England you know.”

So, maybe I’ll just throw in the towel. I could get a new phone number. I could never go and visit my mother again. I could just forget it all….

On the other hand that would leave my sister and brother alone in this. After all, I am the big sister. What would they do without me? And, it would confuse Mum if all of a sudden I didn’t phone or visit anymore, or my phone number didn’t work. After all, she is confused enough.

Then again, our mum never threw in the towel. Oh sure, I know she thought about it – probably more than once. But, when a job has to be done you just set your mind to it, dig in and do it. And, she should know. She did just that – for over 23 years… But, that’s another story.

So, I will do just that. With a song and a prayer I will set my mind to it, dig in and do it. I will do it for my sister and brother. I will do it for our mum. And, I will do it for myself. Because, in the long run, how would I live with myself if I turned my back on her when she needed me most.

I know I’m not alone.

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2010