Who Cares What Nansi Thinks?

Last week Mom began seeing "red spots" through her right eye. The nursing home rushed her right over to see the surgeon who'd done her cataract surgeries. Her right eye had been the most difficult eye to work on, according to Dr. Daily, so I wasn't too surprised to hear that she was experiencing a retinal hemorrhage. It wasn't much of an emergency because we weren't scheduled to see the specialist for another seven days.

We went to the retina specialist on Thursday. Visiting a new doctor is difficult. There's so much paperwork. Apparently I didn't fill it out to the nurse's satisfaction. She lectured me and talked to me like I was three. I was just too tired to let her have it. (lucky for her, I can be brutal)

The hard part of the paperwork was that Mom couldn't remember her vital statistics. She kept insisting that her birth date was June 3. (That's my dad's birth date.) She couldn't remember her social security number. Just six weeks ago when we started this, she was able to rattle all of that off without hesitation. Now? It's simply not there.

It was a long day at the retinologist. First we had to endure the nurse who was so angry. Then we met the doctor. Then he sent us for scans. After that, they photographed Mom's eyeballs. Then back to the doctor for results. The bleed was very evident. No doubt about it. The doctor felt that it was already resolving and for the time being, has opted not to do any laser surgery. We go back in two weeks to see if the healing process is complete.

Each phase of our visit was separated by a wait in a waiting room full of people. Most of them were between 60 and 80 years of age. To me, they all fit the "Pennsylvania elderly" mold. The women were frail, tanned and white haired with their little matching outfits. The men were nearly deaf, balding, white haired and thick in the middle.

Mom was unusually quiet. She kept looking from face to face. I said, "What's wrong, Mom?" She replied, "I know this can't be true, but the waiting room is full of your dad's aunts and uncles." I said, "Well, they're Pennsylvanians, Mom. They all sort of do look like Dad and his relatives." Her answer to that sort of startled me "Your dad's not from PENNSYLVANIA! He's from FLORIDA!" After she said that, she sort of deflated and said, "Oh yeh. We were from Pennsylvania, weren't we?"

My mom has spent the last three years remaking her history. She forgets sometimes that I was there, and I know the truth. I've heard her tell people that my dad was "the head of P.R. for NASA" or that she went to Medical School but had to drop out when she began having children. She tells of her years as a teacher in a school for disabled children. She told the eye doctor that he goal in Medical School had been to be an ophthalmologist. Her new reality has obscured the REAL reality and she is sometimes very sad when she has to come back. I think she's losing her real memories in the process.

Visiting Mom is getting to be more and more difficult. I want her to be happy. Her two favorite pass times are (1) telling her outrageous stories-- and expecting ME to validate them; and (2) saying shocking and gross things then pointing at me and yelling "oh look, I've shocked my daughter!" Guffaw Guffaw. *wretch*

My mom has completed her cataract surgeries. I would say it was a success. We are having a complication, so it's not yet a complete success, but I feel sure things will work out.

Ten days after the second surgery, I went to pick her up to be fitted for new eye glasses. She was bitterly complaining that the surgery didn't work. Her eyes were worse than ever. (She said this while wearing her glasses. Glasses prescribed before the surgery.)

The doctor required that I be present during the exam. I was amazed at how well she was seeing without any glasses. The doctor said her vision had an 80% improvement as a result of the surgery. EIGHTY PER CENT! She's actually able to read large print without any correction at all. No WONDER she couldn't see with her old glasses!!! The doctor advised me to take her glasses away from her and get her some readers from the drug store until the new glasses can be made. She so accustomed to having glasses on her face that she won't go without. The old lenses are massively too strong.

Her newly improved vision has been (at the risk of throwing out a shameless pun) a real eye opener for her. She's taking more pride in her appearance and is even more critical about the appearance of others! :-)

So now that Mom's vision is restored, she's full of vim and vigor. She announced that the nursing home is holding a Senior Prom. (Please shoot me.) She wants to make herself a dress. Mom can't sew anymore. It's not her vision that prevents her from sewing. She lacks the ability to organize the project. After the first stroke, she became unable to lay a pattern out. She'd spend hours trying to figure out where the pieces go.

When she went into the nursing home, after the third stroke, I got rid of her machines. Somebody at the nursing home brought her a sewing machine. It became a MAJOR source of frustration for her. She couldn't figure out how to get it threaded and would call Sears over and over. The local Sears store actually blocked her cell phone number because of all the phone calls. When they moved Mom to the renovated wing, someone knocked the machine over and broke it to smithereens. (And I didn't even have to pay a BRIBE!)

Now she's fixated on sewing again. For the past decade or so, sewing to my mother has not been about making actual garments. It's been about acquiring fabric and patterns and stacking them in every corner of her house. I did manage to salvage some of Mom's fabric, but most of it was full of bugs.

Mom was a fabulous seamstress. I remember a gorgeous gown she made for my sister. You'd never know it was home made. It was the prettiest pink and white. She looked like a princess in it.

The thing my mother created MOST successfully was to turn ME into a total clothing addict. After my siblings were married and gone, Mom would make me a new outfit every week. It was a rare day when I didn't just LOVE what she made for me. She made my bridesmaids dresses. They were so gorgeous! They appeared in at least two other weddings besides mine!

I miss my mom's sewing days. Believe me, it hurts to be the one who has to keep telling her "no" to the sewing. It's another aspect of the role reversal that parents and children experience as time goes by. On the way home from the doctor's office the other day, I actually caught myself putting my arm across my mother's check when I had to slam on my brakes.