Today I cried....

I cried today, which may not be unusual, because I have often been accused of being anatomically incorrect (kidneys behind my eyes).

But my tears were more of a child's hurt. You see, my mom is a demencia patient, often in a "15 second loop" for her conversations. Example: "Who was your father? What was his name? How long were we married? Are you married? Who was your father? What was his name? How long were we married? Are you married? " and so on. My confusion is that I never know what will set her off on a "loop". The loops are both positive "I sure like this ice cream. I remember when I was little and we could only have ice cream every few months. Chocolate is my favorite.I sure like this ice cream. I remember when I was little and we could only have ice cream every few months. Chocalate is my favorite." or take on a negative slant which I don't need to demonstrate.

Today, I stopped in to visit her at her assisted living home and she was in a foul mood. I could tell just by the reception I got. Immediately, she started in a loop of "I thought you were coming to take me home. Why can't I go home with you?I thought you were coming to take me home. Why can't I go home with you?"
When I tried to explain that THIS was her home, I was met with steely eyes, a sullen look, and the ever popular, "Fine! Just fine."
With a few rounds under her belt, she finally said, "We will not talk about this anymore". There was no pleasing her. No upbeat comments that she could digest. This is the part where I cry. Only I cry in the car. I don't ever let her see me upset. She wouldn't understand. My tears were created by so many elements. Being her sole support in this world, by that I mean, morale, transportation, financial administrator, health care consultant and reporter to her doctors, her only connection to her children (I call them to talk to her) and her sister ~ is a large job. Sometimes it feels too big for me. Any reprive I might have comes by not showing up as often to see her. And then the guilt creeps in. Finding the balance is not easy.
So crying was a reflection of my hurt, hurt at being scolded. At being wrong, once again. Reduced to a 6 year old in mischief, I left the home. Got in the car and cried. I don't like it when my mom is mad at me. I come from a generation that doesn't normally talk back to their elders. So for me to try and rationalize with her was pointless.
She is 87 years old ("How did I get to be this old?") and so her credits for age out weigh any anger I can express to her. She told me the other day that she was coming to the end of her days. I asked her if she was afraid. She said yes. Only because she doesn't know where she will end up. I told her I believed that she will see her husband, my dad, again. She says she wishes she could remember him better. "He will know you, so don't worry" I tell her. She believes that she has to take a run through pergatory first.... oh well.
I suppose that there are many reasons I can cry because of my mother. My choice is not at her funeral. Love is funny that way.