My Mother -- Hospice's Comedienne!

My mother is now home with me and comfortable, have the caregiving schedule worked out, and now lots of great time to write.

So, this is the best part, I've learned my mother is a lie-in-bed comic. As context, she has short-term memory issues, but that mind is still sharp even with its limitations.

As sad as last week was with all the tragic deaths in L.A., I was startled when after watching three days of coverage from morning to night, my mother turns to me and says, "I think Michael Jackson has died."

Yesterday, on the Fourth, I'm trying to get her to understand what day it is. She runs through the days of the week -- no, that didn't work. So, I say, "What day is the Fourth of July?" Her response, "On the Fourth of July."

Later I ask her again what day it is -- it's a beautiful, sunny day in Southern California, clear and gorgeous, unlike last year's Fourth of July Fog -- this time she says it's Christmas Eve. I say, "Look out the window, does it look like it could be Christmas Eve? It's the Fourth of July." She says, "Well, it can be both the Fourth of July and Christmas Eve." "Why do you want it to be Christmas Eve?" I ask. "So that I can get presents."

So then I am telling her today that before she came home I went out to shop, after checking with some Twitter friends about the best sofa bed to put in her room -- a plug for "American Leather" (but the sofas come in wonderful microfiber colors, too, and no springs!) so that I or a caregiver could spend the night with her. She tells me she loves the color. I explain how the first store we went to didn't have the right size or color. The second store, praise the Lord, had the twin size in exactly our color, but didn't want to sell it off the floor. It would take five weeks to order and deliver, but my Mother was coming home at the end of the week.

I told my Mom this morning I knew when I saw the sofa that the Lord had it there ready for us and they would sell it to us, which they did. She says she loves it and it looks beautiful in the room.

Then my mother asks for candy. I say, "You're always talking about candy!" "No, I'm not, I was just talking about sofas!"

Love your parents and bring them home if you can. You don't want to miss the magic moments.

Blessings, Jane Allison
http://yourelderlawadvocate.com
http://twitter.com/janeallison

P.S. As I am writing this on the sofa in her room, my mother calls out, "Throw me the flipper" -- our term for the TV remote. Then she quickly follows it up with, "But don't hit me." Fortunately, it was already by her side, no chance for that!