My Elderly Mother is in Lock Down
(Feelings of helplessness during the Coronavirus pandemic)
Rose, my 93 year old mother, is in lock down, along with the other thirty or so residents in her memory care assisted living facility. The place where she resides has decided with reasonable and laudable caution to limit all but the most urgent visits from family during the Coronavirus outbreak.
I understand the need for these precautions, but it still breaks my heart. Mainly I am worried because I know my mother takes delight in my weekly visits.
Every Sunday afternoon when I visit, her face lights up. Although it sometimes takes a few gentle prompts to remind her of exactly who I am (not her sister, not her mother…); once she realizes I am her daughter, her delight is truly palpable.
Eager to tell every other resident and all the staff “This is my daughter”, she clings to my arm or scoots along with her walker with renewed energy and pride. And over and over again she looks at me and says “Thank you for remembering me!”
“How could I ever forget you, Mummy?” I ask with teasing earnestness. “Who could ever forget their mother?” To which she always replies, “You are a wonderful daughter!” and I reply “And you are a wonderful mother!”
That is nearly the entire extent of our conversation ,repeated many times over the course of my visit. Hardly scintillating, at times tedious, I know that for my mother it is the high point of her week.
As I prepare to leave I hug her and say “I will see you next week, Mummy. I love you.” To which she replies “Next Sunday. You never forget me. I love you!”
Now my visits must be suspended for a while until we, as a nation ,can get the better of this frightening pandemic. The elderly and the frail are at special risk, and that certainly includes my mother.
But I worry that my absence will frighten and confuse her. Perhaps make her withdraw even more than she normally does, quite often during the day.
Yes, I will call her ,but phone calls, after the first greetings seem to confuse her, and more confusion is not what she needs. I will send her flowers and cards and boxed candy (only soft centers) and maybe leave a coffee milk shake for her at the reception desk from the local ice cream shop , something I treat her to every Sunday.
But I know it is I she wants to see. I she wants to hug. I she wants to “introduce” to all the staff and residents, as she has for countless visits.
I know she is well cared for by a staff who are very fond of her as one of their longest, most communicative residents. My mother was a school counselor during her working years. Even with her dementia she retains some of the life skills that help her get along well with people.
She always remembers to praise. And she always remembers to thank those helping her.
And she always remembers that on Sunday her daughter will visit.