Why am I here?
For many people, that’s always been life’s greatest question.
This really isn’t going to be an analysis of how to find the answer. It’s pretty much something everyone has to figure out on their own.
It seems as if once you’ve found a purpose in your day-to-day life, then the answer comes quickly. One thing that I’ve been able to ascertain during my 53 years is that everyone’s purpose changes over time.
After a colonoscopy during the summer of 2014, I went into the hospital for surgery because of a mass that I was told was not cancerous. There was a biopsy to prove it, but it still had to be removed.
As I was checking out of the hospital a week later, my surgeon came to me with some news. He said that I HAD cancer. Once 10 inches of my colon was removed, the mass was tested and showed early stages of the disease. It was quite scary to hear. The good fortune of having a routine colonoscopy saved my life.
Over the next couple of years, I had several friends my own age that passed away from some form of cancer. It makes one ask why was I so fortunate? Why was I able to survive and not them?
In January of 2017, I feel those questions were answered as my mother was diagnosed with dementia.
My new purpose in life is dealing with my parents. I am now able to help my father with the care of my mother, which is complicated by the fact he has a form of skin cancer and is currently undergoing radiation treatments.
One of the most upsetting things about dementia is watching my mom become someone else. There are still elements of her personality inside her, but she is also very different. Yelling, crying and getting angry are now part of her daily routine as much as forgetting simple tasks and conversations.
No one knows when an incident will occur. However, it’s led to a new philosophy. I have to remember to forget the hateful things that are said to me, while at the same time trying to remember this is the person who gave birth to me.
Most of our family could tell what path my mother was unwillingly taking years before her official diagnosis.
In many ways, the person who taught me so much about becoming the person I am today has not been “here” with us for quite some time. My grieving process began long ago. It really isn’t over, but the reality is that some people have to become a parent to their parent.
It’s not hard to understand the inevitable direction dementia forces upon a person, but it is difficult for the family members to deal with the process. The pending decisions will be hard to make without allowing emotions to come into play as we accept the responsibility to care for an individual dealing with this horrible disease.
Learning to laugh in situations that most people might not find humorous can be difficult. Many of my friends do not know of my mother’s daily and even hourly struggles.
Informing the people we interact with is one of the issues that is difficult to handle. What do you say? It depends on the connection our family has with the person. It is difficult for my mother to have a conversation with another person. She doesn’t have the ability to interact beyond hello and how are you? Perhaps the worst part is that physically she is fine at this point. Her body is doing well, but no one knows how long it will hold up under the duress of dementia.
My best medicine is laughter. I recently broke one of the Ten Commandments during a Sunday church service, while trying to keep from breaking another one.
I lied as I tried to honor my mother. Kind of a tough call.
After a song, my mother announced that she need to go to the rest room. I soon realized that she was headed toward to front door of the church. The problem is that the rest rooms are in the another direction. I’ve learned that telling her that she is wrong and correcting her isn’t the best way to handle this type of situation.
My solution was to say that I had to go to the rest room as well, which of course wasn’t the truth. However, it worked. We walked to the rest rooms and I stood outside the door to wait for her.
We are at the stage where my mother can not be left alone in any situation. She has wandered away from my father a few times over the last few months, so it’s difficult to focus on that as we try to direct her without creating a stressful situation for everyone.
The potential for an angry outburst is always there. I was once on the receiving end of a tirade that featured some name calling and cussing, while in a doctor’s office waiting room. Not something I wanted to experience during a church service.
Thankfully, it turned out fine. After the service, I told my pastor of how I lied to handle the situation. We chuckled about it and he more or less said that there was a pretty good chance I would be forgiven.
Often times using baseball analogies is a way for me to connect with life, so on that morning in church I went one for two with a walk. Not a bad day.