You never dream, when you've been raised by a loving mother, that you'd think something so awful. I recoil at the title, yet it's how I feel. I never imagined a scenario where it would be possible.
But this is where Alzheimer's has taken me.
I love my mom. I love who she was. I even love who she is now. People who love me ask how she is. I understand. I ask my dad the same thing when I call. But we both already know the answer. She's alive. That's it.
What is hard to explain is Mom is just there. She lays in bed. Someone moves her to a wheelchair. Someone feeds her. And for most of that time, she just stares. Her eyes, once loving, are now vacant, sometimes confused and even afraid. We are way beyond the, "Does she know you?" question.
She's been this way for years. It's been 13 years since we noticed her decline, over 6 years in a nursing home, most of that without any real communication.
As the title indicates, her condition has taken me to some pretty dark places and forced me to wrestle with some pretty difficult questions. What would I do if it was legal to end mom's life? What would I do if I am diagnosed at 60? Would I move to Oregon like, Brittany Maynard?
What would be the most loving thing for Mom? For me? For my family? And as I try to work through what seems like a loving response, what does the suffering of a faithful saint say about God?
I don't think I have good answers for those questions. But I think sometimes we make the mistake of too quickly short circuiting the pain. It's like taking morphine to stop hurting when we touch a hot stove.
There are things we learn in suffering we can't learn any other way. Something about it forces us to shed pretense and platitudes. It makes us real.
I don't understand the purpose of Mom's suffering, or my dad and sister's as they care for her. Still I try to trust the God she loved and long for him to take her home.
But this is where Alzheimer's has taken me.
I love my mom. I love who she was. I even love who she is now. People who love me ask how she is. I understand. I ask my dad the same thing when I call. But we both already know the answer. She's alive. That's it.
What is hard to explain is Mom is just there. She lays in bed. Someone moves her to a wheelchair. Someone feeds her. And for most of that time, she just stares. Her eyes, once loving, are now vacant, sometimes confused and even afraid. We are way beyond the, "Does she know you?" question.
She's been this way for years. It's been 13 years since we noticed her decline, over 6 years in a nursing home, most of that without any real communication.
As the title indicates, her condition has taken me to some pretty dark places and forced me to wrestle with some pretty difficult questions. What would I do if it was legal to end mom's life? What would I do if I am diagnosed at 60? Would I move to Oregon like, Brittany Maynard?
What would be the most loving thing for Mom? For me? For my family? And as I try to work through what seems like a loving response, what does the suffering of a faithful saint say about God?
I don't think I have good answers for those questions. But I think sometimes we make the mistake of too quickly short circuiting the pain. It's like taking morphine to stop hurting when we touch a hot stove.
There are things we learn in suffering we can't learn any other way. Something about it forces us to shed pretense and platitudes. It makes us real.
I don't understand the purpose of Mom's suffering, or my dad and sister's as they care for her. Still I try to trust the God she loved and long for him to take her home.
Jeff, prayers and comfort for your mom and entire family, from someone who understands. The best "gift" you could give your family is to make your "end of life care' wishes known so they have no doubts on what you wish for yourself. After going through the struggle with my mom (who luckily was fully vocal about her wishes), most of my family has now completed this Five Wishes document that is mostly universally recognized by the legal and medical profession. http://www.agingwithdignity.org/forms/5wishes.pdf
ReplyDeletePrayers for your mom and her care givers. Deirdre
Thanks Deirdre. That's great advice! End of life planning is a crucial piece. In fact, because of this, my sister began a non profit called Gracious Goodbyes to help families dealing with these issues. You can check it out it here... http://graciousgoodbyes.org/
DeleteI ask same question and wrestle over whether its my own selfishness or what would be best for her. Ultimately, after forcing myself to concede to my faith, I come to a hard fought-for peace. If God can use the leper, the thief, the blind, the deaf, the prostitute, the degenerate, the Christian killer, an army of 300, the disabled, the stutterer, the youngest, smallest sibling, fishermen, or a man who denied Christ, I cannot imagine what God can do with the most faithful woman I've ever known, even if she is ill.
ReplyDeleteReally thoughtful reply... and a real encouragement to me. Thanks Dude. I agree.
DeleteTears. I only have tears or empathy and love. Words escape me.
ReplyDeleteWe can weep together.
DeleteHey J we feel your pain and are going through much the same journey with Glenda's mum. Have had numerous conversations with the Lord on this one - but in the end He is sovereign and Jesus said "Your will be done" - so if Jesus took that position we can do no less - even if WE cannot see any 'earthly reason' for the delay.
ReplyDeleteThanks Big D! Yep, I agree. There are just some days that it's easier to get there than others.
DeleteWhat a painful piece to read. It's so easy to know exactly what we want - what to say - how we should think - how we should pray when we have never been faced with the really hard questions. It's so easy for Christians to comment on our faith, or our love, or our walk - when they have never been tried. It's in these times that we learn who we are - what we really believe deep in our hearts - and when we truly cry out to God with all the honesty in our hearts. If we've never known pain, then we have never really known mercy. Your mom is a great lady of faith. I will never forget her love and kindness - and I pray for her - and now for you and your family. Love you all. Nita Roush
ReplyDeleteWow Nita. Thanks for such a kind and thoughtful reply. And thanks for your prayers. I would love to see you guys sometime.
DeleteThank you for your provocative thoughts Jeff! We have known your dad since he was 16 in Bainbridge, and your mom's parents as pastoral peers. As i've considered this situation, I think what impresses me most is NOT the futility of it all but the beauty of a profound faith that sees God in charge of all life, including the unpleasantries. I know of few things more powerful than your dad's example. Talk about faith . . . !
ReplyDeleteGood comments Wayne. Thank you. The endurance, commitment perseverance and faith of my Dad and sister have truly been inspirational.
Delete"Short-circuiting the pain"!!! Wow. Never has a truer assessment of Americans been stated. Maybe it's that way everywhere, but I know 1st hand how that is a huge issue in this country. On every level. In my job, I have seen the epidemic this is when it comes to physical pain and I'm certain I have contributed to it at times. But I realize that you are speaking more of an emotional level and I just about can't imagine a life which has not experienced the desire to short-circuit pain at some point. For some it seems a life-long curse. For many, a huge tragedy or trauma in some form. How powerful it would be if we could see the benefits of pain, how it draws us to the source of our strength, how it puts things in perspective, how God uses it to mold us and then allows that experience to help us better minister to others. There often seems a cold, hard, clinical feel to many of these moments. I'm thankful for godly friends who often seem to extend the very arms of the Father to wrap me in warm embrace as I seem to walk barefoot down a long, often windowless corridor. Keep writing Jeffrey.
ReplyDeleteGreat thoughts Dale. Thanks for taking the time to write them. I guess my worry is we tend to self medicate instead of dealing with the source of the pain. For example, with Mom, it would be easier for me to have a few drinks or take a pill and forget about it for awhile, instead of doing the hard work of mourning. I could also short circuit it "spiritually" by quoting Romans 8:28 "All things work together for the good of those who love him." While I believe that's true, Mom's situation sucks. While there is an ultimate hope for her, her current environment is wretched. We need to be honest about that tension, wrestle with it and even embrace it.
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