Am I My Mother's Mother?

            Mother seemed very tired but lucid and …dutiful—even as she played the piano.  She seemed to be doing it dutifully.  She tried to help Kay work through her delusions.  It was a very interesting visit, filling me with even more admiration—and sympathy—for Mom.  I was there a little over two hours.

            Talking about the “neuroscience of happiness” Mom said not to try to be perfect and that she was grateful for an absence of illness and “that I don’t have an illness to pamper”? 

           

            This was my visit before Jonathan’s arrival from NYC to see Mom.  Kay had a lot to say, and it made Ada mad, defending Mom.  But Mom remained the peace maker—and even went out in the garden.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Today I took a white binder with pages for photos.  I arrived a bit later than usual—around 1:00.  Mom was just getting into bed, and Kay was in the bathroom.  Mom told me she thought the shirt I was wearing was pretty, and I thanked her and told her I liked it too.  I’d gotten it at a second hand store, and it made me think of a garden. 

Mom paused for just the right word and said, “It’s garish.” 

I laughed, and she asked, “Isn’t that how it’s pronounced?” 

I said yes, but she asked me to look the word up in the dictionary because that was the only way to be sure.

            Ada came in but didn’t look like her usual upbeat self.  She didn’t remember what had happened, but she remembered that it confused her and made her mad because people were giving her mixed messages (and now all had been deleted from her memory).

             Mom said she really needed to sleep, but their toilet was stopped up, and Kay came out of the bathroom and said, “She did it again.” 

            Today Kay went around bare-legged with just a top and a panty-pad.  I found her another panty-pad to put on, but she imagined that it was dirty and refused it.  I also tried to help her find a pair of pants, and she also wanted two white sweaters even though it was very hot, and Mom was worried that Kay would suffer from the heat.  Kay was suffering from much worse than that.            Kay started in by saying to me, referrnig to Mother, “I just wish you would take your daughter to a nice place like this but one that’s somewhere else and get her straightened out.”  She complained about Mother’s things being in her bureau drawers, which they weren’t.  She remembered that when Mom first came she was supposed to share a bureau but she never told her half of it was hers. 

            The never telling her accusation then went into more serious areas:  Mom would leave the three children in her, Kay’s, bed, and go off without even telling her they were there.  And what was she supposed to do?  And then a lady came on the radio and said such awful things about her, Kay.  And Mom beat her.  People don’t know, but Kay puts up with it because she feels sorry for her. 

            I tried Suzy’s nightmare explanation and interjected something like, “Oh, Kay.  We really do care about you.  My mother really cares about you, and you’re really safe with her.  She wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.  But I know you don’t feel safe because it’s like you’re having a nightmare, a really bad dream.”

            “She’s you’re mother?  I thought you were her mother,” she said to me.

            Mom tried really hard to reason with Kay. 

            “Honey, could you put your energy to thinking positively instead of being on a vendetta to get someone mad at you?” 

            Mom also said something like, “I understand that you want your own way and your own direction, but that’s no reason why I should go along with it.”  She said this very civilly, as if she were in couple therapy, asked to give the other person’s point of view and her own. 

            Then Kay said, “I don’t have my way.”  And indicating Mom she said, “She’s guilty, not me.”

            Ada asked angrily, “Guilty of what?” 

            I decided I’d have to get Ada out of the room but not until Mom saw the support Ada was giving her.  Ada definitely agitates Kay and is usually the one Kay accuses of beating her up.  Everytime Ada said something, Kay answered, “What?  I can’t hear you?”

            Kay said (about Mom), “She beat me.”

            Mom said, “I wasn’t even thinking about beating you up.” 

            Ada said to Kay, “You aren’t even listening.”

            Kay said, “I don’t have to listen to this.”  And then to Ada she said, “This isn’t your territory.”

            Mom said, “How would it be if I withdraw some money from the bank and pay for another place for you to live?”

            Then Kay said to Mom, “They’ve already got your number.  You’re caught and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

            “What would you do if you were me?” Mom asked Kay.

            “First I’d take me to the doctor’s and see if there was anything they could do.”

            Ada said, “There’s nothing wrong with her.  You’re saying things that never happened.”

            Kay said, “You should be on my side.  Someday she’s going to take you.  You’re going to be the one to take the blame.” 

            Then she looked at me and said, “How come you’re alive?
            I took that as a chance to say that I was proof that my Mom wasn’t violent.  She’d never physically punished us when we were growing up.  “She’d never hurt you.”

            Mom agreed and said, “I never hurt my other…my children.  But I think you were looking for a cause to be…You have an irritability that comes from not feeling well…We don’t want to feel that we’re hurting you.” 

            Then Kay accused Mom of taking her bras.  “I had seven bras when I came here.  And I couldn’t find them.  And then I undressed her (pointing to Mom) and there they were on her back.”  (I couldn’t help thinking that she should have worn them somewhere else.)

            Mom said, “I’ve got my own bras.”

            Kay said, “I have—and you’re not aware of it—a lot of friends.  And they can help me.”

            Mom said something like, “We can wait and see what happens.”

            Kay said, “You did something that was very much against the law.  You told a man he could have my bed.  You sold my side of the room.”

            Mother denied it and promised that she would never sell Kay’s bed. 

            “Let’s agree on this,” Mom said.  “No one can take over your part of the estate.”

            “But you can hear the children.  When you go out, please tell me that the children are here.”

            “Who’s where?” Mom asked.

            Kay indicated the mattress.

            Mom said, “Let’s try to rebuild trust and friendship.”

            “Well, I think you should call the father of these children—get him over here.  A radio program …and she talks to us…all about me.  She has run me down.”

            Mom asked, “Where do you get this information?”

            “She’s talking on the radio,” Kay said.  Then Kay said that she, as an employee, had had a very high position.  High up.  She asked Mom, “Have you ever taught school?”

            And Mom said, “Yes, I have.”

            Kay said, “Well, you never learned a thing.”

            Ada asked me, “Did you hear what she said?  She said ‘You never learned a thing.’  That’s rude.”

            Mom asked Kay, “Could you let your angers and your disappointments fade away for an afternoon?” 

            Then Mom explained about being good at Christmas time.  “When people ask their children at Christmas time, ‘Are you going to be good?’ they mean pleasant, good people.  Not to run each other down.  Not to try—“

            Kay said, “I caught you where you left those kids. The whole class…everything I did was wrong. But you left me with the kids in this bed, and you never told me.”

            “Well, I came home soon…so that should have ended.”

            “I’m just using that as an excuse.  As an example,” Kay said. 

            Mom looked exhausted, so I suggested to Ada that we leave the room.  I went up to Mom, who was perched up in bed, and with my back to Kay told Mom that Kay was delusional, and Mom  said, “She’s nuts.” 

            Mom told me to please come back!  I told an aid that there was some friction, and she came into the room and helped Kay get dressed.  Mom was still concerned that Kay had chosen clothes that were too warm for the weather.

            “These are all my clothes,” Kay said.

            “They’re hot,” Mom said. 

            The aide said to Kay, “Let’s go to the bathroom,” and Kay said, “No.  I want you to go by yourself.”

            The aid asked Mom if she would go play the piano now, and Mom was concerned that the sheet music was gone, but it was there on the piano, with just pages missing here and there so that, for examples, “Greensleeves” abruptly went into “Tennessee Waltz.” It didn’t seem to faze Mom, who just played on—more dutifully than joyfully, I must say.  Carolyn was really interested in singing.  She came over and said, “You didn’t tell me!”  And she sang along with a couple of songs before an aide brought in more people, and I did hear voices besides the voices of Carolyn and me.  (Mom didn’t seem to be singing.)  Then Mom stopped and said, “I’m going to take this home and practice.”  But I really thought she was doing very well, and I think the others were disappointed that it wasn’t a longer session. 

            Then Kay seemed calmer, but Mom wasn’t taking any chances.  I walked her out the door, and as I put in those 4,3,2,1 numbers to keep the alarm from going off, Mom said, “I never do that.  I never go this way.”

            But once we were out in the garden, she seemed to like it.  I’d brought along another compilation of songs, and this time Mom sang:  “God Bless America,” “My Country 'Tis of Thee,” “My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean,” “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.”  Mother gently jabbed me in the ribs when I was off key and even pointed to lines ending in  star and our  and said, “  “That’s supposed to rhyme.”.

            Around three, I took Mom back in.  She said her left leg hurt, and if I weren’t propping her up, she’d have to have a cane. 

            When we got back to the room, a very calm Kay was sitting in her (Kay’s) chair.  Mom went to her bed and asked Kay, “So, Honey, how are you feeling?”

I kissed Mom, said goodbye to them both,  waved goodbye and my garish shirt and I left.