Mom is the reason I am so utterly lost without getting away from the city, some of my earliest memories are of her, dad and I camping. My first actual memory in my consciousness is inside the RV. One of her favourite places has been part of her life since the 50’s, changing in meaning for her multiple times. If I were to guess, the most powerful of those meanings for her is her independence– she was 41 with a 6 y/o boy when she became a widow. She feared camping alone with a child for a couple of years after her husband died. Going there with me and no one else established the final step to proving to herself she didn’t “need” any man. This was not “anti-man” at all, just very pro-Donna.
It’s for this among many other reasons that getting her here will always be the difference between a good year or not.
September 12, 2016
Late Friday a friend called and asked myself and Mom if we would like to rent a vehicle and get out to the Skagit at least once more this summer. Without hesitation we said yes, and scrambled to get ready to go the following afternoon.
Practically as soon as we were on the road, mom started to just have initiative towards doing things independently. By the time we were driving into the Skagit Valley road and hit the gravel (which makes it so you can ‘feel’ the vibrations of the place), she began to tell Colin stories about how we have names that exist for various different camp spots that exist within the Valley (for example: there is a place where rabbits are everywhere, and when I was 11 or so I asked mom what would happen if a logging truck went through while there were rabbits on the road– she said the truth: They probably wouldn’t stop. I wanted to put up signs that said “Bunny crossing”, and though I never did that it is forever to be known to myself and Donna as “Bunny Crossing.”).
She gave a little detail, and compared to the woman who earlier that same day didn’t have the wherewithal to answer much more than her first name and her birthday– I was amazed. It signified a serious jump.
And I realized later, as mom became more intransigent and contrarian on things that she wouldn’t have the day prior, it came from her rising confidence. Yes, it’s horribly frustrating when mom can’t figure out certain things in the passenger seat and I’m having no luck helping– partly because *she has recovered a temporary but real sense of confidence that she must know these things*– but it is a tiny price to pay. I essentially think it works like this:
“The Skagit is where I went when my husband had died a few years before and started spending time on the land by myself, outside of the “official” campgrounds. This is where I solidified that I was solid on my own– and I’ll be damned if my son thinks he knows better!”
She wore a real smile and made so many confident, clear statements. I had to constantly worry that my mom– who normally only tries to get up on her own at home if nature calls– was trying to wander around on uneven (& dangerous) ground– another wonderful problem.
This time, owing to having our own vehicle, we could get in to the end of the road and enjoy the mountains and the valleys right at the border near Ross Lake.
I am waiting right now to get into a walk-in clinic; the wood was damp and it took a long time to get the fire going– while attempting so I rolled my ankle very badly. The pain kept me up all night on the ground, and rolling about seems to have screwed my shoulder. But seeing the pooled blood in my swollen foot is almost a badge for me, unless I need surgery it was worth it.
I have tried to explain the importance of being home to those suffering dementia before. It’s very clear– but here’s the thing even more solidly drilled into my skull based on moms sudden lucidity and genuine smiles:
Dementia means you need help to be alive, and you need help to live. Our society has sold out our elders, providing only a bare minimum of alive. We have also made a culture of permissability towards tossing them into a bin and running away.
Here’s the thing. The emotions that the person with dementia feels are as strong as ever and stronger than ever in relative terms. For this reason, when you help their bodies do the things they love to do, their spirits come alive. You won’t need to take a pulse.
If you know them and love them, it’s more obvious than weather changes. You just know.
In Mom’s spirit and mind now, without a sophisticated explanation, but so what– she feels like someone who goes out, sits by the river, stays up late by the fire, loves the mountains and listens to the water crashing by as she drifts off to sleep. She deserves that, because when I feel that way? She’s the one who insisted on it for me in the first place. And in the Skagit was where it began for me, too.
Your elders want to do the things they love. They need help.
If you do it with them, it will help you just as much.