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“You have early-onset dementia, Mom. I’m not Toby. He’s been dead for twenty years. I’m Miles, your other son. Most of the time you don’t know who I am, and you probably won’t remember this conversation tomorrow. Or even an hour from now.” The truth doesn’t feel good as it rolls off my tongue; it feels cruel and hurtful and like the last thing I should say, but it’s already out and too late to take it back.
“You’re trying to confuse me! Why are you putting me in a home? What did I do to deserve this?” She pushes by me and heads for the door, and I follow, wishing I’d thought this through better. Wishing that my dad didn’t live on the other side of the country and my brother was here to help me with this.
My mom is so agitated that she starts yelling, and the nurses intervene. They call the hospital and get permission to give her a sedative to calm her down. It’s my fault she’s reacting like this, because I couldn’t hold my frustration in, and I pushed too much truth on her.
One of the nurses gives my shoulder a squeeze. “It’s not her fault, and it’s not yours either. I know it’s hard, but this is the best and safest place for your mother.”
I don’t know that I agree about it not being my fault, but she’s right about my mom needing to be somewhere safe. “I’ll come back tomorrow and sign the paperwork.”
By the time I drop my mother off at the hospital I’m exhausted, but I still need to head back to her house and see how Kitty is making out. And explain what the heck is going on with the room she found. I don’t know why I haven’t been up front with her in the first place, other than I feel kind of like a jerk for not seeing the signs until it was too late.
Part of me wishes that my dad had handled things differently. That he had tried harder to help her after Toby died. That he hadn’t moved so far away and left me to deal with this on my own.
I call him on the short drive from the hospital to my mom’s house. “Hey, Miles, I saw the game this afternoon. That was a great win.”
“Thanks. Parker’s really getting his feet under him this season.” I start with the easy stuff, although the win this afternoon feels like it happened a million years ago.
“That your doing? I noticed he’s changed things up since the last game against Ottawa.” My dad was the one who always took Toby and me to hockey games.
“Mm. I just assess the data and give those findings to the coach; management and the players do the rest.”
“I think you probably had more to do with it than that, but it’s good you’re settling in with the team. With you on their side, they should have a banner season.”
“We’ll see.” I drum on the wheel, not sure how to say what really needs to be said.
“How’s Tabitha? Are things better?”
I could lie, but there isn’t much of a point. “I took her to see an apartment tonight, and it was tough on her.”
“How is it on you?” His voice is laced with concern.
“She’s having trouble staying in the present. She’s going to need care, more than I realized,” I admit.
“How much care? Is she going to need financial help? Are you?”
“Her insurance should cover it,” I assure him. “Most of the time she thinks I’m Toby.”
He’s quiet for a few moments before he says. “I’m sorry, Miles. I didn’t realize it was this bad. I could take some time off, come visit, and help while you’re getting her settled.”
I consider that: my dad coming out here, potentially staying with me, helping clear out the house he hasn’t stepped foot in since they got divorced when I was a teen. As much as it would be nice to have support, I’m not sure it’s better for any of us. “I’ve got it handled, Dad.”
“Are you sure? You’ve got a lot on your plate with this new job and now your mom needing all this support. It’s okay to ask for some help if you need it.”
“Honestly, it’s okay.” I don’t know if that’s true, but based on her reaction to the home, I can’t see her dealing well with seeing my dad. “Once she’s in the assisted living facility, it’ll be fine. It’s just getting her there. And I have a network here, so you don’t need to worry about me. I gotta go, though. I’m checking in with the cat sitter.”
“You’re a good son. It’s times like these I wish I lived closer. I’m sorry you’re dealing with this on your own.”
“It’s all right, Dad. I’ll be on the west coast soon enough. Thanks for listening.”
