With all the unrelenting SAD of losing my dad last fall, the fact that my mom has advanced Alzheimer's has kind of flown under the radar. We moved her from south Texas to Ginormousville where she would be close to Sister L. She had a series of small strokes and ended up in the hospital. Disappointingly, her condition deteriorated to where she could no longer live in an assisted living situation and we* found her a nursing home specializing in dementia care.
This seemed to be a much better fit for her care than assisted living. They took care of all the less glamorous portions of patient care at no extra charge and we no longer had to have the round the clock sitters to prevent injury from falls. As an added bonus, her new home was right around the block from Sister L, so she has been able to check in on her all the time.
For a (short) while, all seemed to be well. Was she was moving around less? Maybe... well, yes. Was she was talking/babbling less? Okay, also yes. Had her appetite had decreased? Possibly. Again, yes.
Maybe all wasn't well.
The reports this week have not been good. She has lost all interest in eating. She hasn't taken anything orally since Sister L coaxed some apple juice into her over the weekend. She has a DNR, so feeding tubes are out of the question - and prolonging her life in this condition would not be a kindness.
So maybe it is her time. She would HATE being in the state she is in. She had a lovely life. Was married 50 years. Raised three daughters. Blah, blah, blabity suck, suck, suckage. I hate this.
In theory, I am prepared for her loss in a way that I was not prepared for my dad's sudden and somewhat unexpected death. Mom left the building long ago. What remains is just a shell. But now that her time is upon me, I am not prepared at all.
*By 'we' I mean Sister L. She did all of the hard work of finding nice places for mom to live. For this, her sisters are eternally grateful.