Waiting

Mom has an infection. One she's had many many times before. She may or may not respond to the medication this time.

I've never felt two ways so strongly about anything. Mom has done her time. Twelve years with Alzheimers is enough for anybody. She deserves a better death than one from total end stages Alzheimers. I've seen that. It's not pretty. It's not humane.

At the same time I don't want her to die. She has changed almost beyond recognition but she is my mother and I love her. This second option, her living, is the selfish one to hope for.

But truly I don't have any say or control over what happens. The best I can do is help report when she tells me she is in pain and make sure something is done about it.

And play. We play dolls a lot. I hated playing with dolls as a kid and now it's one of the best things I can do for my Mother. When Mom's not looking I wash the doll's face because Mom takes the dolly in to supper with her and shares her food with her. We spend a lot of time fixing the doll's hair. Dollar store hair products are a huge hit. Today I told my Mother the story of when I was in grade one and she did my hair in a hurry - one side a braid, the other a pony tail, and I was late for school because she had to fix it. I don't know if my Mother knows who I am but she accepts me and she accepts my love and that's all that matters.

So we wait and see.

And I secretly become a cheerleader for death while at the same time I abhor it.