The Complaint Department: Exorcist Needed . . . Immediately!

My mother is possessed. She is possessed by probable Alzheimer's Disease, and she is possessed by misinformation! Misinformation of her own confabulation or of that planted in her brain by someone else.

Last Saturday, I drove up to Olney to pick Mom up at Antique Village and take her for a perm. Before we left, she needed to use the bathroom, so I took the opportunity to sift through a few of the little notebooks she keeps by her bed. It's always a reliable way to figure out what's on her mind.

What I found on this visit caused me to be so angry and upset that I could barely speak to Mom on the way to the hairdresser.

Mom and I will soon be meeting with Mom's guardian/trustee, at Mom's request. I arranged for the date and time about a month ago and have since reminded Mom, over and over, to make a list of the things she would like to discuss with the attorney.

The timing of Mom's intense desire to meet with the guardian and the topics she wants to discuss--how much money she has and college tuition help for the grandsons--come as no surprise, given the fact that my brother has re-entered her life after a long absence.

Here are her notes about what she wants to discuss with the guardian.

Let's take them number by number.

1. Antique Village does not want Mom to have a trash can or toiletries caddy in her room. Why? Because she uses anything that looks like a bucket or can as a toilet. Mom really isn't able to control this impulse because she can be quite confused in the evenings and at night. After the first occurrence, I asked the staff to put the trash can back in its place in Mom's room. Again, she used it as a toilet, so it was removed again. Then the toiletries caddy was used in the same fashion. And people, we are talking both No. 1 and No. 2, here. Mom believes that I possess a wastebasket from her home and that I should hand it over. I have gently tried to explain what's behind all this. Very uncomfortable, I tell ya. Mom now has a canvas bag for trash, which hangs off one of her bed posts. I guess it's not working out too well.

2. Mom suffers from incontinence and has started using Depends. I was asked to take away the regular underwear by the facility staff in order to make a smoother transition. Also explained to Mom.

3. A while back, I started shopping for Mom's toilet articles--Depends, shampoo, toothpaste, soap, etc.--as well as her candy supply, on my way up to see her each week. We used to do it together, but it's become a lot more difficult for Mom to get around with her walker. It's just easier to take care of it on my own. Sometimes she's needed a lot of stuff, sometimes nothing. I've paid for her items separately, using my credit card, saved the receipts and sent them off to the office of Mom's guardian, monthly, for reimbursement. Sometimes, if Mom was with me when I've shopped for her, she would offer me money to pay for the purchases. I would tell her to keep her cash and that I will submit my receipts to the guardian. This all worked well and good for a while, until . . .

A few days after Mother's Day (when I had brought her flowers and TWO boxes of candy) she called, very suspicious-sounding, and quizzed me about the payment for the flowers and candy I had brought. In her mind, for some reason, she came to believe that I sent the receipt for these GIFTS to the guardian for reimbursement. Even as I told her that they were GIFTS from me and Tony (and not day-to-day toilet articles), paid for out of our own pocket, she began quizzing me about a new outfit of clothes we gave her for Christmas. It soon became clear that she thought we had bought all these things--gifts--and had her guardian pay us back out of Mom's own money.

You know, I understand that all these behaviors are typical of someone with advancing dementia. The forgetfulness, the lack of insight, the paranoia. But the fact that Mom would write these notes, which indicate that I am the worst sort of daughter--cruel and deceitful . . . oh, I just don't know what to think or say. In Mom's mind, she really believes it.

I am angry and sad and hopeless, all at once.

This second note is kind of a gem. Mom, again, is raging about the wastebasket and, it appears, the reimbursements for her toiletries.

What jumps out at me is the phrase "Anne got everything inside," when referring to her house which was sold two years ago.

This is my brother's language and an ongoing lament from him, which is patently false. From this note, I see that he's still feeding Mom a line of crap, and trying to secure her sympathies toward whatever goal he has.

And, then, on the phone with Mom this afternoon, she chided me for never having children. Again, another pearl from the vaults of Paul, who, in the past, has berated me for the same failing in his conversations with Mom. He basically conveys to her that I'm not as valuable or deserving a person as he is because I never had children.

Mom soaks this stuff up and regurgitates it to me. She is the ghastly, unwilling marionette of both dementia and a self-serving son.

While I was musing over all of this today, I suddenly had a vision of arriving at Antique Village and finding Mom, yellow-eyed and bloated, sitting in the corner of her bed, leaning against the wall and exhaling vapor. I saw her head spin around and come to a stop, facing me. She hissed, "Your mother sucks cocks in hell," after which she spewed green vomit.

Exorcist wanted. Apply within.

5 Comments

NOOOOOOO! God, that is so horrible. You would have to be INHUMANLY patient and selfless to not feel angry about that crap.

Speaking of crap, your brother is a piece of crap.

Posted by: Miz S | June 08, 2011 at 06:14 AM

This is so awful. Miz S is absolutely correct: no human could hear this stuff, read this stuff, and not be angry and hurt.

Personally, I know that I would feel less and less eager to pay visits to a parent in this state. It's not the loving way to be, it's not the mature way to be, but it's how I would feel.

And saddest of all, the only hope is for your mother to fall even deeper into her disease. Which will happen of course.

Keep telling your story. You need to hear over and over that you're a great daughter and your mom is so very lucky to have you. It's not much, but it's something.

Posted by: Pam Jones | June 08, 2011 at 10:38 AM

My GOD, your brother is a piece of work. (or a piece of sh*t) I'm so sorry that you're going through all this hurtful stress with your mom. You don't deserve it and yet, as the saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished!

Posted by: Margaret | June 08, 2011 at 10:37 PM