Midnight Mumblings

It would appear that my mother’s disease has taken another unexpected hard left turn. To my knowledge it began yesterday morning when I went to pick her up. Instead of her perky self she was sobbing uncontrollably.

The nurse told me “she just started crying and asking for you. We don’t know why she’s so upset.”

Sobbing, her face bright red, I got her to my car, stowed her walker in the back seat and got behind the wheel.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

She looked me dead in the eye, terror shaping the wrinkles of her face.

“Do I have a nose?” She said.

I have an awkward smile and tapped the end of her nose. “Yeah. Right here. Don’t you see it?”

“I don’t have any legs.” She said.

“Mom, you do. Look. See,” I pat her knee, “you have legs.”

“Those are someone else’s.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m dying!” She sobbed harder.

“Mom, you’re not going to die.”

I put on some Patsy Cline and drove to Starbucks to get our drinks. As the time passed she seemed to calm down. And stayed that way most of our time together. It wasn’t until the last hour when it all started to derail again.

She started rotating through a series of three stories all in the same breath. One involved her dying and having no legs or toes. The second, was her owing someone money. She didn’t have the money to pay them. She has to pay them.

The third, was when she turned my dad into a villain. He was a womanizing wife beater in her tales, which are nowhere near the truth. My father had his demons but he would and could never do those things.

I dropped her off back the home and she sobbed in even as we pulled into the parking space. “I have to be honest. I’m a Christian.”

I rolled my eyes but I had no idea what this was referring to.

Get her back to her room and she’s calm and cheery.

The next day, Sunday, the home calls me and tells me that she is inconsolable and keeps talking about having no legs. They’re concerned that she’s in pain and they don’t know. So they send her to the ER. They run all the tests. She’s healthy as a horse. Their diagnosis for this little escapade is that her dementia is progressing.

Well, no shit.

I’m curious what my visit on Tuesday will consist of. My husband (and I tend to agree) think someone may have doubled up her meds or got them mixed up with someone else’s. We think that only because of how quickly it came on. But then, when I think of how this all started it wasn’t a slow progression it was just one day she was talking absolute nonsense.

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