Wow. Each week I get a new picture of dementia, and it is not a pretty one. This is one scary disease and grappling with how to help Mom, how to talk to her when she clearly just doesn't get it, trying to avoid arguments all while trying to keep in mind that when she is talking with me I never really know if she thinks she is talking to Claire, Cindy (her imaginary friend) or me, Cindy, her daughter. I am desperately trying to learn how to juggle her emotional ups and downs and never really knowing who she thinks she is talking to when I am with her.

The fact that she has me being 3 or 4 different people was very troubling at first but now that I am beginning to understand this, to a degree, it is a huge benefit. I'll try to explain briefly.

As her primary go to person, the only one there for her, the one she could see on a daily basis, I met her basic needs for the last 6 or 7 months. I helped her, comforted her and gave her a soft place to fall. When I would say or do something that made her mad or uncomfortable, she could not bring herself to alienate me. She depended on me to much and I think she would get aggrivated with me and had a need to be mad at me from time to time so she created the other Cindy. She (the other Cindy) lives in the same apt. complex although I have never met her but Mom thinks we know each other. Then, I think when we both piss her off, I become her twin sister Claire. She talks to me like we grew up together. Not much of an explaination cause who in their right mind could really explain what is going on in Mom's mind. Certainly not me. Just recently, she at one point referred to me as Jean- her older sister. Go figure.

She can not wrap her head around how I know Mike (my brother). She asks when I met him. I tell her that I grew up with him, he's my big brother. She says, no, when did you meet him. Mom, Mike is my big brother, we played baseball, football and went fishing together. She still wants to know when I met him. Honestly, I don't remember ever "meeting" Mike. He was there when I got there. I give up. She wants me to know that he has been here to see her and when I confirm that I know this, she wants to know how I know. I explain that he helped move her here. She doesn't understand how I know about that and I tell her again, that we were all here together to help get her moved in. It's just too much for her to take in. She lays her head back on her pillow, mouth agape and her eyes are just so sad and empty and wanting to close. She is so tired. And so miserable. And there is nothing anyone can do to help her.

Once again, after I leave her, come home and take time to think about our day, I cry for her. For her misery, for her confusion, for her hating her life and for her absolute loss of self.
This is a sad, sad situation.

She hates being where she is and I am bordering on getting honest with her about why she is really here but she just would not understand and I am so hesitant to further agitate her that I don't.

Teresa just called after visiting with Mom tonight. As it turns out, today I was Claire, and Mom never wants to talk with me again. I guess Claire sufficiently pissed her off. Oh no. I'm down to two personalities and only one of them can make her mad. I guess if that happens, she will create another person for me to be as she knows that she depends on me too much to totally alienate me. Unless she transfers that dependancy to Teresa. Scary thought, huh Teresa.

Mom was asking why she hasn't seen anyone else from the family, Cokie, Linda where are they. I remind Mom that Linda has to get a portable oxygen tank in order for her to visit and she remembers, "Oh, yes."

Just so, so very sad.

Another day in Mom's life.

Hoping she can rest easy tonight.