And so it goes...

The care center is beginning to feel like home, I think--at least Mom's not complaining or requesting to return to her apartment.  Her room IS nice, homey, and the four bird feeders are a boon.  An avid birdwatcher, Mom can't see each chipping, chirping feathered soul, but she can see the movement and shadows they cast. I like to think they give her solace, joy. And the staff and we have begun to bond, each becoming accustomed to the other's routine, strengths, and weaknesses.  I like to call each by name as I see them, and they seem to respond positively in kind--making a point to greet me when they see me each day.  Mom is a compliant client/resident, and though she has needs, she's not demanding. Her gratitude is apparent, even to the point of uttering a word or two of thanks for the help she receives when needing to use the bathroom or be given assistance.

Mom's cold and cough seem to be improving, yet her being in the "present" varies day to day.  Some days she's drifty and repeats her questions every 5 seconds.  Other times she asks insightful questions and seems "normal," something I wish would happen more often.

Last week we were having our coffee and Mom was nibbling on the fruit I like to bring her daily--either strawberries or raspberries.  I bring them in a small, easily transportable lidded dish.  Mom and I were chatting, and Mom's good friend Maryann joined us.  Maryann and I chatted, and Mom tossed in a few "now what are you talking about's?"  It was difficult for her to track our conversation, and soon I saw her dip her hand NOT into the berry dish for another morsel, but rather into her coffee.  She quickly withdrew it when she felt the heat on her fingers was coffee, not berries.  Oh dear, I thought, this gal is really losing it. Yet the incident didn't seem to bother mom--she didn't bat an eye. But I bemoaned her inability to distinguish between berries and coffee, heat and cool.

This morning at the breakfast table I was engrossed in the Sunday paper, reading two articles in close detail of places I'd been, events I'd experienced.  My morning coffee and a bowl of berries sat at my right.  I'd opted for fingering the berries rather than using a utensil, and you can guess what happened...so focused was I on the articles that my hand went from grasping the coffee cup and sipping, to dipping my fingers into the mug for berries.  Dang!  I thought.  My smile was immediate.  Like mother, like daughter.

And so it goes...