Mom and Dad: Lost and Found

On a number of occasions, Mom has gotten it in her head that there was something she just had to find or at least know its current location.  Most of the time we can answer her questions with, “In a box.”  Some things, though, just don’t fit that answer.  Maybe it was given away, or is in use at my house, or was donated to the church rummage sale.  I try to get to the bottom of why she is looking for the item(s) when the answer doesn’t satisfy.  Surely the root of these concerns is loss – loss of their home, loss of their complete independence, loss of… so much.  But, what brings it to the surface in such a concentrated manner?   What is happening in her day-to-day life that causes her to become so concerned with individual items?

She returned an ‘ornament’ to an old friend along with the letter written about the item.  She read and reread the letter to the friend, never quite getting the entire story correct, but trying to explain it so that it was understood.  I stepped in and explained once, clear enough that when Mom tried to explain again, her friend told Mom she understood and they could move onto another subject.  Months later, on a subsequent visit, Mom wasn’t sure that the ‘ornament’ was still in her friend’s possession.  She had spoken to some of the family and they could not recall ever seeing any such thing.  Mom wanted to search the woman’s drawers.  I was glad it never came to that – in fact Mom seemed to forget all about it once we were with her friend.

When Mom couldn’t find her special hangers, she wanted to search their old room.  It didn’t help that she had actually had success finding her bobby pins when searching their old room.  One success fed the obsession.  She wasn’t permitted to search and later discovered the hangers right there in her closet.

Mom loaned Anne her curling iron.  Anne forgot to return it.  Mom wanted it back and ended up searching Anne’s room for it.  Neither of them could agree upon which curling iron was Mom’s and which one was Anne’s.

Mom loaned Anne some music to practice.  Anne forgot to practice, but the show went on.  Later Mom was convinced that Anne had not returned the music.  She searched Anne’s room, again.  Anne was very upset about this invasion and tried to discuss it with Mom.  Mom, upon returning to her room, found the ‘missing music’ and apologized to Anne.  But, Anne had ‘learned her place’ and was hurt.  This contributed to a breakdown in the friendship…

Mom and Dad have a little step stool in their room.  Mom always had multiples of these little stools around the house because she is short.  Being as their place is so much smaller, they only need one of these step stools.  After Mom started using the cupboard above their microwave, I noticed that the step stool was beginning to migrate.  Originally she had kept it under the piano, out from under foot, less risk of tripping over it for either of them.  Then, it moved to right beside the reclining chair.  From there it moved to beside the bed.  And, from there it moved in front of the dresser.  I was very concerned that this posed a tripping hazard and worked on convincing Mom to return the stool to its original storage place under the piano.  Mom said, “We used to have another one of these.”  I agreed that they had more at the house, but assured her that one was enough for where they are now.  Each visit I would work on getting her to move the stool.  Each time I’d get her to move it, she’d remember that they used to have more of them.  Each time I’d let her know they had no real need of another one, and would stress the importance of putting it away so it didn’t cause one of them to trip and hurt themselves.

A few weeks had gone by when I noticed that Mom had indeed found a new storage place for the step stool.  She was now keeping it on the far side of their bed.  In hindsight, I wish I’d never pointed out that I noticed the new resting place of the step stool…  New place… new look.

Days later Mom mentioned remembering that they had had multiple step stools except now she was convinced that they had brought them all with them to the facility.  And, she described them all.  There were two more just like this one in the room.  She could remember one being over by the closet.  She could remember one being in front of the dresser – out of the way of the door but close enough to reach if she needed to get into the cupboard.  Each of the locations she remembered seeing the stool was actually a place she had been storing the stool… a location I’d worried was unsafe.

This went on for weeks.  I was happy that the stool was still being kept next to the bed and had fallen into the habit of the conversations about them having had others but needing only one.  I don’t know how often the subtle change in dialogue occurred before I noticed…

I was leaning on the window sill reading over some papers.  Mom said she was having trouble understanding them and I was trying to find details to explain and write down for her to refer back to each time she returned to them.  The conversation was rote and my lines hadn’t changed for weeks.  Mom’s obsession with the step stools was as strong as Dad’s obsession with his dancing stuffed animals.

“We had more of these, I just know it.  I remember I had one sitting in front of the closet.  I used it to reach that shelf up there.”  Weren’t you afraid that you or Dad might trip over it in the middle of that narrow aisleway?

“I had one in front of the dresser.  It was out of the way of the door but close enough to get if I needed to get into the cupboard.”  I was worried one of you might come out of the bathroom and stumble over it when it was there.

“There was one next to the bed – I could step up there to put back your Dad’s toys without crawling onto the bed and messing it up.”  Weren’t you worried one of you might crawl out of bed and catch a foot on it in the dark?

“I had one under the piano – I could rest my feet on there while I played…”  That was a great idea and a safe place to keep it when it’s not in use somewhere else…  and so on and so forth, day in, day out, week in, week out.  And then I heard her say, “It was metal and white and had black on the steps.  There were 2 steps.”   (Cue sound of rewinding)  Metal… white with black on the steps – plural.  Um…  Mom, that step ladder is at Dan’s house.  That was not something you could have here.

Mom became convinced that Anne had borrowed the step ladder and searched her room, again.

Mom became convinced that Anne had borrowed the other step stools and searched her room, again.

Mom then confessed that it was because of Anne that she now hides the step stool on the other side of the bed.  If it was out of sight, she wouldn’t have to deal with the issue because Anne wouldn’t realize they had a step stool therefore she wouldn’t ask to borrow it.

I wonder if the step stool is symbolic of something – what is it she is reaching for?  Her first recognition of her condition came as a feeling of being pulled forward.

What is this new feeling saying?  Does she feel like she is sinking?  Does she feel like she needs to be taller?   Does she see herself as a child in need of growing?  Does she see herself shrinking in some way – her brain, her osteoporosis, simply being short but suddenly aware of it?  Does it have something to do with the fact that they don’t have a full length mirror and she had never before been without one?  I’ve found the step stool in the bathroom, and have seen her standing on it when she’s fixing herself up.  Could she be losing touch with her overall bodily appearance?

My husband is tall, I am short.  He hung the mirrors in our house – I stand on tip toe to see myself close up, or just give up and use the bathroom mirrors.  Often I am taken aback when I catch a glimpse of myself in a reflection that includes anything below the shoulders, but I do catch those reflections.  There are few places for Mom to see all of herself in the facility.  I have experienced that strange but momentary identity crisis at my own full body reflection and wonder if a full length mirror would help Mom in some way?  Then there’s Dad…  he doesn’t know himself in the mirror anymore.  What would a full length mirror do to him?

Tags: Alzheimer's, Alzheimer's care, caregiver, caring for elderly parents, elder care, senior care