Friday, March 26, 2010

the visit and the tears

So I gathered 2 friends and my sweet 9 year old Heather and off we went to see Beverly. Calling her Mommy which to me implies a loving person or Mother which to me implies at least someone who cares no longer fits this woman who gave birth to me. Beverly is all that is left. Anyway. I sent the troops to the second floor loaded with all kinds of thought out gifts. Then I headed to the lovely lobby.
I half hoped there would be a page for me to rush up and see this woman who gave birth to me. Instead and sat and thought and spoke with the receptionist and cried.
Then the intake nurse arrived who had done Beverly's interview at our home just a little over 2 months ago so that I could place her in this nursing home. She assured me , as all health care providers seem to do, that it is the disease. Even knowing that does not keep it form breaking my heart.
Jackie assured me I was a good daughter and that I had to accept she would only get worse. Dam it I hate Alzheimer's!!!!
After an hour the troops returned I could tell by their faces it did not go well. Heather had tears in eyes and rushed to hug me. Where was her "good Grandma," I wanted to scream "SHE"S GONE FOREVER but I didn't we just held each other and cried. It seems Beverly who always thought any woman that swore was horrible used several words to Heather and the others letting them know I was no longer her daughter and that I obviously did NOT love her because she is now in a prison.
WHY???? Science can clone a sheep replace numerous body parts but why can't they fix the brain?????
She was not the Donna Reed Mom that my other friends had,she was divorced in 1953 not cool to be Catholic and be divorced, she worked 2 jobs. She was beautiful, tiny with a long red pony tail to her waist, she was stuck with me. There was no family to help so she left me alone to tend myself from the time I was 3 until I started school. There was no social service or daycare I really raised myself. I promised my self early on that I would be the Mommy that I dreamt about her being.
Skip to the man I called Daddy for 50 years. BOY do I wish he was still here then she would be with him and I could believe it was all okay again. Truth hurts and this disease is HORRID!

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