I’ll be forever in love with daisies. They are such a happy flower. On our wedding anniversary in 2007, (12 years ago – wow, that’s a long time ago), my mother had purchased a bouquet of daisies. They were in a yellow cup with a smile on it. She was so tickled to give me that gift.
Obviously, the flowers have long since been gone. I bought a fake bunch to use as a prop when I give a talk for work about my/our journey with dementia. I’ve since placed the dust collecting daisies in the cup my mom used to drink her daily cup of coffee from.
When I decided to take a photo to show you them, Dessy sauntered in and decided she should be part of the photo session. She’s the blob at the forefront of the photos.
That daisy gift is melancholy for me to remember. Even though Mom was smiling when she gave it to me, there was something wrong that I’ll never forget.
For today’s stream of consciousness post, I’m sharing an article I wrote that was published in a local women’s magazine called Queen of the Castle four years ago in 2015. The owners sold the magazine, so the article is free to me to share again. I wrote, it, I can share it, right? For those of you who have followed me for a while, it’s a repeat – hope you’ll forgive me for resharing.
That time in life was a blur for me, so the photos I’m sharing along with it are my blurry attempts at capturing the daisies in my garden. They are taking their sweet ol’ time to bloom. I’m waiting patiently for them to appear. They are tricky to capture, four days in a row, I’ve tried to get a good picture of the one that is almost ready to burst open.
Soon…they’ll bloom and I’ll be smiling as I think about how happy my mom would be to see them!
The title of the article is called – Strength in the Journey
Knock, knock, “Mom, it’s me. I’m on lunch break. You didn’t show up for your appointment, so I thought I’d stop by to see you.”
Sitting slumped in the chair, with a bowl of cereal ½ eaten, still not dressed for the day. With little enthusiasm, she said, “Oh, hi dear, how are you?”
“Mom, are you okay? Your face looks a little droopy on the left side.”
Her speech slurry, “I’m fine, I just think I have the flu bug. I just woke up I must have slept on that side.” She points to a bouquet of daisies in a yellow coffee cup on the table, “I bought you an anniversary gift. I’m sorry I didn’t get it to you yet.”
“That’s okay Mom, thank you, I love it. Are you sure you’re okay? Can I get you anything?”
“Well, I do have a pain in my back, can you make me an appointment with Dr. Joe?”
“Sure, I called, they can get you in tomorrow, I’ll take you.”
“Okay, thanks, I’ll rest until then, I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, you sure? I’ll be back tomorrow.”
I didn’t know the signs…
Morning came and I called her, no answer…the phone kept ringing.
Her neighbor checked in, called me to say, “She was still sleeping.”
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
No answer when I knocked. I rushed in, found her, naked in bed, very disoriented, talking about her father and her brother, both who had passed away years before. She refused to get dressed, she refused to move. I glanced around the room, clothes all over, papers were strewn about, medications not taken for days, the phone off the hook in another room…no wonder I couldn’t reach her…had she tried to call me??
I called 911. They took her to the emergency room. She was very pleasant, lying there quietly as everyone moved around her.
Strange, she normally complains about being with doctors. Had I made the wrong call?
The doctor knocked and walked in to share the news. “We’re admitting your mom, she has had a stroke, has a UTI, and acute renal failure. Her pleasant demeanor indicated to her primary physician a possible stroke which was confirmed by MRI’s.”
I didn’t know the signs…
So began our memory care journey together. Mom had to live the rest of her life living with Vascular Dementia (Multi-infarct dementia MID) causing memory loss, thinking, language, judgment and behavioral issues, and moment by moment struggles.
“Mom, let’s go on an adventure.”
“Okay, where are we going?”
“Since you had a fall, and because its winter and icy, we’re going to find a nice place for you to stay until you get stronger.”
“I want to go home.”
“I know, but let’s do what the doctor said, at least until the snow melts.”
“Okay…”
“Mom, this is the place you picked out with me, remember?”
“No! I don’t want to stay here, I want to go home!”
She cried and screamed, “You ungrateful daughter, I hate you.”
I had to stay strong! I had to keep her safe. I kneeled down in front of her on the floor, held her hands and said, “Mom, you’re right, I failed you, you are here because of me, I’m sorry. I love you.”
A short 5 years later…watching her sleep and thinking, I’ve held these hands all my life, many happy memories, “Thank you for being the best mom ever. We’ll be okay. It’s okay, you can go now.”
“Oh, my, her eyes are open, she’s looking at me…Mom, I love you…goodbye.”
She took her last breath as I held her hands. It was a beautiful end to our journey together. We were finally at peace.
My journey continues on in her memory.
How does one learn to adapt to change when it is out of your control? A brain affected by vascular dementia responds differently depending upon where the damage occurs. A person then lives moment by moment. Their brain and body will gradually shut down. There will be moments of peace for the person.
The caregiver gets to learn while their loved one’s brain no longer can. You learn about being a Power of Attorney for Health Care and Finance. You learn to adjust to the fact that disease will eventually take your loved one from you. You learn to be their voice throughout the journey, making choices for them when they can’t. Often times against what they would have wanted had they had the chance to live without Dementia.
You overcome obstacles for them and with them. You get stronger in the process. While I lost my mom, I’ll never regret the journey we shared. I learned I am meant to help others in need to find strength in their unique memory care journeys.
Post Inspiration – Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday – Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “for/fore/four.” Use one, use ’em all, use ’em any way you want. Bonus points for using all three. Enjoy! You can join in on the fun by clicking this link.
PS – Hope you’re having a wonderful weekend. Do you like blurry photos, too? Or is it just me? If you’re struggling with a loved one who has dementia, my heart goes out to you, and I wish you the strength you need to travel in your journey.
This must have been such a difficult journey, Shelley. Bless you for being there. I love the daisies.
Yes, it was, I’m thankful for the strength I learned I had – a gift that my mom keeps on giving me. Yes, I saw that you love daisies too on your post for today. Those tiny wild ones are so sweet.
Every now and again a blog post will bring tears to my eyes … this one certainly did. So many like memories dredged up of my late Sweetheart and her last year. I was her 24/7 caregiver and we rode the highs and lows together. Pain, frustration, laughter and long silences during that time built memories that to this day bring a knowing smile or tears. Thank you for sharing. g
Aw, g, thank you. You know all the feelings of the journey so well. Your wife was fortunate you were there to help her through her journey. The bittersweet ending is a reward for both of you, just like it was for me and my mom. xx
Shelley, what a heartbreaking journey for both you and your mom. It takes a special kind of love to step in and do the hard work. Bless you for being there. In the end, love is all we have.
Thank you, Maggie, I appreciate your kind words. You’re right, love is what we all have in the end.
I love daisies too x
🙂 xx
Wow. Such a difficult time for you Shelley, a hug for you. I try to avoid fuzzy photos. 😎
Thank you, John. I appreciate the cyberhug! Fuzzy photos are so fun though…! 😉
Your mother was lucky to have you. Such an agonizing situation. We had a similar one with my mother-in-law many years ago. A different kind of dementia, but the same outcome. We were losing her years before she actually died. Your story is beautifully written about such a difficult subject. The blurry photos fit perfectly too.
Thank you, your kindness and words touch me. Dementia, no matter what kind, is difficult. You know well what a challenge it can be for the family. I hope you have fond memories of the time as well, I know I do. How close my mom and I became as a result of it is one of them.
You’re welcome. There were some good memories, but they were rare as she no longer recognized anyone the last few years. However her sweet personality remained.
Aw, that is hard when they forget people. 🙁 It’s nice her sweetness stayed with her though, when the feisty, angry side stays prominent, it isn’t an enjoyable journey.
Your care and love for your Mom is so touching, many blessings your way
Thank you, Alice 🙂
You are not suppose to make your blogging friends cry with your posts. You are so strong and caring. Being a caretaker is very hard and emotional draining. *hug* May you always smile as you watch the daisies blow in the breeze remembering the good times. They are indeed a happy flower.
Aw, sorry to hear of your tears – I do remember shedding a few a long the way, and back when I wrote the article for the first time.
I will be smiling when those daisies burst open to the sunshine. Thank you for your kind words and blogging friendship, Anita. I’m so glad we found each other’s blogs!
Me too :0)
I think I know why you said it but I don’t really think that your mom’s dementia was your fault and I hope you don’t think that way either. My mom is 96 and we are starting to have some struggles with her, mostly due to uncontrolled diabetes. It is hard to see them change. Hugs!
Aw, thanks, Janet. I don’t blame myself, but I also wonder some days if I had reacted sooner to the stroke, would she still be alive today? She had diabetes, high bp/cholesterol – basically all the risk factors for her failing health leading up to vascular dementia.
Sorry to hear your mom is having struggles. 96 years old – wow, that’s wonderful that she’s lived with diabetes that long. You’re right, it is hard to see them change. Hugs to you too 🙂
I know you had a hard time with your mother, but you were a blessing to her, and no matter what she might have said to you, she knew that. Remember, that was the dementia talking.
Yes, I know that in my heart, and you’re right, it was the dementia talking. I’ve healed since, still find moments when I think back at that time like I did when I posted this again. Thank you for remembering about my struggles.
So sorry to hear about your difficult journey Shelley. It’s so hard to deal with things out of your control.
Thank you, Joni. Ah, yes, out of our control feelings are tough – going through this was a way to learn how to ‘let it go’.
So hard to lose a parent, and the long goodbyes add to the challange. You did well, and I love the daisies. (Mine are just blooming this weekend – you’re next!)
Yes, those long goodbyes are challenging. Thank you :-)!
Yay…I never realized how long it takes the daisies to bloom. Happy perfection takes time to blossom! 😉
Such a heartfelt and wonderful article you wrote. You’ve said it so well. I went through the same feelings, care, and ending with my dad a few years ago. <3
Aw, Barbara, thank you. I’m sorry you had to go through the same journey. It’s not easy losing a parent. Hugs to you xx
Wow, Shelley. How heartbreaking–but I love your attitude and that you’re turning your experience into such an important service for others! You deserve all the daisy blooms you can handle!
That was interesting and bittersweet Shelley- I feel for the both of you on your sad journey. I had the same thing happen the day before when I tried to call for an ambulance to take my mom to the E.R. She begged me to cancel. When I called the second time she was not lucid so unlike the day before, when she railed at me to cancel them as she was fine and did not want to get sick in the ambulance and we had promised each other when we did our medical POAs and DNR orders to follow thru no matter the cirumstance. It was sad – just like your tale, only not the long duration that you two endured. I like blurry photos – you have them down to an art.
Thank you, Linda, I appreciate your empathy/sympathy. Aw, sorry to hear about your mom’s situation. So nice that you both had discussed the POA/DNR orders so you knew what to do. I’ve made sure those are all in place for myself, my Mr., and my kids. We’re not going to have to second guess, we know.
Glad you enjoyed the blurry photos. They’re kind of fun to use in the right kind of post.
Yes Shelley, it is good to get it all hammered out in advance. My neighbor followed behind the ambulance when my mom went to the hospital and she had the paperwork with her in case I decided to “fight the decision” after we got there. Marge was our second Medical Advocate, behind my boss, the primary Medical Advocate. He did that for a client/friend of his whose situation was the reverse of ours – if he was ill and in dire straits, he wanted to live and run his company – his kids were mean spirited and wanted his money and to sell his cherished company. He was divorced and the wife remarried. So Robb was his medical advocate and I had Robb be our advocate because our original attorney who did the wills and Durable POA and Medical POA was appointed to be a district judge and had to close his practice. He referred our file to another attorney but he said he could not both administer our estate and act as our POA (medical, etc.) and told us “it’s either/or – I won’t do both.” Didn’t like him, but we wanted paperwork in place in case we might die together. I didn’t even inform him of my mom’s death because when I went to put the house in my name because I was the only next of kin, I was told I had to go thru probate and it cost me $1,600.00 to do so – I was livid! The probate attorney gave me a discount since there was no family involved, my mom and I shared expenses 50/50 and she had no debt/creditors etc. Still was a PIA.
I have to try blurry photos – can’t use the big camera for a while til I have a secure grip on the grip bar with my bum finger.
Ah, yes, the paperwork – my mom’s estate was all goofed up because of a crappy attorney. Rescued by another one who knew what he was doing. That was horrible to deal with after all of the stuff leading up to it. Glad you made it through it all.
Dang…I still feel for you and that sore finger. I hope it heals quickly!
That makes me mad for you too. I may have been a legal secretary since 1980 but never have done corporate or probate work. The probate attorney said if the attorney had done a lady bird deed, it would have been simple – in this life, nothing is simple is it?
The finger feels better and I can type with the pad of that finger, but not doing it as my nail hits the key and that hurts. To me it looks much improved, but today I was running errands for about 3-4 hours and several people said “OMG, your finger!” so I guess it is still a little scary looking!
It was my inexperience that led me down believing the wrong attorney. It all worked out in the end. Just cost more than it should’ve.
Glad your finger feels better. Keep resting it and don’t overdo it, so it has time to heal. I can imagine it is quite the site!
I was really angry and was lucky I got a discount since it was a low-maintenance probate matter, but still …
It does feel better and I’m still icing it and trying to stay off it, so holding it up in the air while I try to put a dent in Comments and then Reader and maybe a post tomorrow. I have some pics stored up and not share yet.
This is beautifully written, Shelley and incredibly moving!
Thank you, much appreciated :-)!
I love daisies, too! I’ve got a bunch on my dining room sideboard right now — it’s been a long time since I cut flowers to bring in from our flower beds but the daisies were just too pretty to resist!
Daisies are such a happy flower – they seem to love the heat of the sunshine – so that’s why you’ve got them already, your HOT weather makes them burst open and smile at the sun. Like your post today, I’m still smiling! You’re such a hoot! Happy July, Laura – stay cool 🙂
Hi, Shelley – I read this a few days ago but took some time to gather my thoughts before commenting. This is such a sad story but also uplifting – at least for me. How wonderful that you could be with her as you were. When I graduated college (decades ago!) my mom bought me dishes with purple irises. She continued to buy me items with purple irises over the years. So that became “our” flower. When she passed away 15 years ago, I pulled into my driveway after her memorial service to see purple irises blooming in my front yard – and I hadn’t planted them, nor had anyone else. I knew she was okay, then. Thanks for having the courage to post this emotional piece.
Aw, Theresa, thank you for sharing your thoughts and your story about you and your mom. So touching that the purple irises showed up to bring you comfort. They are beautiful flowers and lovely reminders to you of your mom. Hugs to you – we will always remember our moms, no matter how long ago they have passed.