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I turn to Katie with an apologetic look. Unfortunately, part of any kind of dementia means dealing with unfiltered and downright mean comments. The assumption that Katie is a housekeeper because of her ethnicity makes my stomach twist, but I’ve learned that arguing isn’t effective.
Instead, I try to redirect things and give a shot at orienting her to what is actually going on. It rarely works, and I don’t push, but if I can get her to a more pleasant place, it’ll be better.
“She’s not my housekeeper, she’s my friend. Her name is Katie.”
Mom narrows her eyes and shakes her head. “If you say so.”
I lean down and take my mother’s hand, looking into her eyes. “It’s me, Mom. Amelia.”
She squints, then pulls her hand away. “Don’t lie to me. You’re trying to make me think I’m crazy. You always did that to me!” she yells.
I suck in a breath and step back. “You’re right,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. That’s why I’m here now. I want to take care of you like I couldn’t then.”
The days when she thinks I’m her mother are the worst. She never told me all the details of what happened to her, but a hefty dose of abuse and neglect were a part of it.
Mom’s bottom lip trembles, and I push down the bubble of emotion rising in my chest. I have to keep it together.
“Why didn’t you love me?” she cries.
I take a deep breath. “I didn’t know how. I’m sorry. I’m here now. Can we visit for a little while? I brought you some things.”
Mom looks out the window again, but then nods. I let out a sigh of relief and pull the chair in the corner over. “There’s a folding chair in that closet,” I say to Katie. She pulls it out and joins us.
“I know how much you like blankets, so I got this one for you.” I pull it out of the bag and hand it to her. It’s a soft chunky-weave light gray blanket.
Mom’s eyes light up. “Oh, it’s so soft and pretty. Can I use it now?”
“Of course.” I unfold it and lay it over her.
“Thank you, honey.” She looks at me tenderly, and for a moment, I think she knows it’s me. “Who’s your friend?” she asks. The nurse was right. She’s all over the place today.
“Her name is Katie. She’s Miles’s mother.”
Her brow furrows. “Miles?”
I grab a picture from the bedside table and show her. Since Miles is a big part of my life now, I wanted her to have photos of us, so she might have a shot at recognizing him. “My husband. Remember?”
“Oh, that tall fella. He’s quite handsome.” She pats Katie’s leg. “Good job, honey.”
Katie smiles and laughs at that. “Thank you. He’s a sweetheart.”
“So, what else is in that bag?” she asks, tapping it with her foot and smiling. She always loved getting presents.
I pull out the rest of her goodies and she settles in, the rest of the visit going smoother than the start, but it’s not easy. It’s never easy, and it’ll only get harder. My mantra is to make it through one visit at a time. Mom tires out after about an hour and a half, so we head out, and I’ve made it through one more visit.
We end up back at the apartment, and Katie makes me some tea.
“Thank you for allowing me to come with you today,” she says, sitting down on the couch with me.
“I’m glad you could come with me. You’re very calming, and I need all the calm I can get when I’m there.”
“You handled yourself incredibly well. I did some training with elderly populations when I was in school. It wasn’t the area I wanted to build a career in, but there’s always been a special place in my heart for those suffering from dementia and all the people helping them. One of the first things Miles told me about you is how strong you are. That is evident. Just know you don’t always have to be. You have a whole team of people to support you now.”
All the emotions I’ve fought back today wells in me again. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“Of course, honey. I was actually wondering if you’d mind if I visited your mom alone sometimes. I could be a friend for her. Even if she doesn’t remember that each time.” Katie laughs lightly.
I fight back tears as I look at her. How did I get this lucky? I went from having no one, then just Dani, to having this entire family. “That would be wonderful,” I choke out, tears streaming down my cheeks. Then, without thinking, I launch forward and wrap my arms around her. She doesn’t miss a beat, holding me tightly. “Thank you,” I mutter again.
