I originally penned this in November of 2013 as the Michigan snow fell softly outside our windows.
My mom has dementia, so that means her ability to comprehend and remember things and people has been severely compromised.
For those of you who have parents/spouses/loved ones with dementia, you understand how heartbreaking it is watching this person you love daily become someone you don’t know, and sometimes, don’t particularly like.
BUT – sometimes their behavior can be transformed into something humorous. I like to do that. Not because I can’t or don’t want to deal with the reality, but because it IS happening and I might as well find some humor in tragedy where I can. A bit of levity can be a wonderful stress reducer.
So here’s the latest saga. I’m calling this one – The Tale of the Quirky Old Lady Who Puts Things in Odd Places.
Scene One:
Mom: I can’t find my, you know the thing I put my – you know I always put it here (shows me the drawer it’s usually in, but now it isn’t).
Me: You mean your black purse? Ok, let’s see if we can find it, shall we?
Dad: Remember I told you to always put your purse here in this drawer (as he points to a totally different drawer). Where did you move it to? (which he knows is a silly question because she has absolutely no clue as to where or when or how it came to be somewhere it isn’t supposed to be)
*Mom wanders from the vicinity – apparently goes and sits in her favorite chair while Dad and I begin to look, starting in her bedroom, which is the place she spends most of her time moving things and furniture around on a very regular basis.
Scene Two:
Dad and I search methodically in every drawer and under every piece of furniture and inside every bag she has (she puts things in boxes/bags then puts those in another bag which then usually goes inside something else) in her bedroom.
As Dad and I converse, and I occasionally utter “huh” and pause with my hands on my hips trying to envision my Mom squirreling her purse away – where oh where would she put it, we move into the living room, kitchen, bathroom, sunroom, other bedrooms, downstairs to Dad’s man-cave, the utility room, inside both basement freezers, inside the kitchen refrigerator/freezer, plus the pantry, even the washer and dryer.
We continue to comb through each room in the house and even the porches – front and back – but it’s been cold and rainy for the last few days so we’re pretty sure the purse isn’t out there.
Dad and I decide to take a break from searching, as we continue to search.
Scene three:
Mom has begun to accuse someone – anyone – of coming into the house and stealing her purse. No, no, Mom, no one has been here and we certainly wouldn’t take your purse.
*After dinner Mom again retires to her favorite chair while Dad goes back into her room searching once more.
He and I look again between her mattresses, move all her hanging clothes around, on the shelves, inside her jewelry box even, under the bed – again – but no purse.
I have decided to sit down at my computer and chat on Facebook with my two girls, and while they try to give me ideas of where to search for the Missing Item, I begin to wax eloquent and write up a parody for the local news.
*Earnest look and Voice of Seriousness begins to speak…
“The search continues for the missing black purse, believed to be secreted sometime within the last couple of days by its owner. Authorities are skeptical about its safe recovery, but the family remains hopeful.”
“Local authorities are urging all neighbors to carefully check behind and underneath their vehicles before backing out of their driveways.”
“Dolly (Mom’s baby doll who she thinks is real), although a viable witness, refuses to cooperate, pleading the fifth.”
“As the afternoon wanes, all hope of a favorable ending to this sad turn of events begins to fade.”
“Although the loss will be difficult to bear, the family has decided to band together for support and encouragement.”
Zounds – just when hope was fading like your best pair of jeans after their 1000th wash – Dad finds the infamous black purse tucked deep into the recesses of one of Mom’s many drawers. In her bedroom. Hiding amid folded blouses and various unmentionables.
Final Scene:
Dad is the hero of the hour and I make him a batch of peanut butter cookies as his reward for tenacity and perseverance.
Thus ends The Tale of the Quirky Old Lady Who Puts Things in Odd Places.
Stay tuned for the sequel: The Tale of the Quirky Old Lady Who Continues to Put Things in Odd Places.
