Where is she?
The hardest thing about living 600 miles away from Mom is that when something happens, I can do little more than wait by the phone. My sister called me last night asking for a phone number for one of Mom’s neighbors. Neither Mom nor her caregiver were answering the phone so she wanted to send a neighbor over to make sure everything was all right.
Mom has a cell phone. But she never learned to use it well. And the latest thing the dementia has taken is the cell phone charger. Where is it at any given time? Only the Alzheimer’s knows, and it’s not telling. So the cell phone is now rendered useless.
The neighbor found Mom and caregiver taking a walk. I’m grateful Mom’s neighbor was willing to check on her and grateful the caregiver is diligent in our request to help Mom exercise. If Mom had her way she’d sit all day — and I do mean this literally — praying the rosary for the sick, the old, the mentally ill, the imprisoned, the clergy, the dying, heck, for my 15-year-old dog and his health problems. If not the rosary, she would hold the tattered, orange book that contains daily prayers and recite those.
Occasionally, she has read to me from that book but when I ask her what a certain prayer means, she simply says, “I just told you,” then parrots back what she just read.
Does she know what she’s reading anymore? Who knows? But maybe those of us who are prayed for benefit, if not from the prayer itself, at least from her good will.
Now, I need to look into an inexpensive cell phone for the caregiver to use when she’s with Mom. She does not own one.