i blogged about my mum having been diagnosed with mild dementia some 4 months back. and recently she had had her total knee replacement re-done. it's been 2 weeks. and i have been corresponding with her on the phone almost daily as i was down with a flu. and through our phone calls, i sensed her dementia had worsened. you see, a couple of days back when i called her, she spoke to me in malay instead of the usual hokkien. and her speech slurred and occasionally she did not respond... i knew she had gone into a world of her own when that happened. yesterday, i felt my flu had cleared sufficiently for me to visit her. while i was not surprised, i was not really prepared to see and experience the magnitude to which her dementia had worsened.
when i arrived, she was seated on her wheelchair and her body was slumped forward. she was staring at the floor. and when i looked at her eyes, they were totally lifeless. the white of her eyes looked porcelain white and her pupils look glassy black. and they were both slightly damp. i called out to her and she looked up. yet her eyes did not seem to register my presence. despite looking at my direction, they looked like they were looking through me instead.
sighs...
pulling myself together, i spent the next 3 hours talking to her. i told myself i need to keep her mind active. and through the 3 hours, her memory swung to and fro between her youth to the current reality constantly. at one time, i was talking to my 77 year old mother and how her leg was hurting after the operation, and she would ask me to tell bee that he need to visit her, la la la. and then suddenly, she was a young girl ("is my mother home?" she asked); or as a young mother talking to me her teenage son ("how come you are not in school?")... and once a while, she'd totally forget about things ("who is su how?"). and our conversation would also be punctuated with her slipping into herself. when this occurred, she would just stare blankly into the air and i would end up talking to someone who was no longer around. yet, throughout the time, i had to constantly sound cheerful and engaged her at the level that would keep her going... actually, it was more like i was asking her a lot of questions and often, i had to answer the questions myself. i reminded her of her life, i got her to tell me about her past. and as we conversed, i massaged her bloated-up legs that had continued to pain her ("i don't understand, yesterday, my leg was fine, and today it is all bloated up and painful!"). and as we spoke, she teared non-stop as she could no longer control her tear ducts. once a while, she would try to wipe her tears but she could hardly hold on to the tissues. it was clear that she was also losing her ability to control her muscles.
the conversation was light and easy. yet, i felt a certain wave of emotions as i grappled with the thought that i was losing my mum as i spoke. that saddened me. a few times, i had to consciously hold back my tears from welling-up. frankly, i never know i was able to control my tear duct that well. but i had to. i could not possibly tear in front of her. after having heard about bee's grandma, i roughly knew what to expect. for now, mum could still sit in her wheelchair. but soon enough, she would be bed-ridden. the frequency where she would slip into herself would increase. and eventually, she would go into a state where she would totally be in a state of her own. that would be when we would lose her totally despite her being alive and well. and she would continue to be in that state until life expires on her.
i have time and again heard stories about how dementia sets in for some people not long after their spouse dies. and it tells me of the will-power that kept them going to look after their spouse in their final days. and when they go after their spouse dies, it was probably becos they see no more purpose and aim in their live. now, i see it happening to my own mum. i am sad. but as jason had mentioned before, they are not in pain per se, they are just in another state of consciousness altogether. the challenge therefore, is for me now to remind myself that i have to let her go. it is me that i have to manage. it is my own sense of attachment to her old self that is making me sad. instead, i should treasure this remaining moments with her and also to celebrate that fact that she has lived a good life. that she is ready to enter into this state should be taken as a sign that she has total faith in her childrens' ability to continue living our lives. with this in mind, i should make sure that her onward journey continues to be smooth and comfortable and that i must give her the confidence that we will go on. reflecting on how mum brought me up and how she had placed me in leadership roles in the family in my dads' absence, i guess i now have to also prepare my family and the domestic helper mentally as her condition deteriorates.
thinking of the days to come, i could only use the hokkien phrase the best sums it up: "li chi wa tua, wa chi li lao" or literally "you have raised me up, i'll take care of you till you die".
when i arrived, she was seated on her wheelchair and her body was slumped forward. she was staring at the floor. and when i looked at her eyes, they were totally lifeless. the white of her eyes looked porcelain white and her pupils look glassy black. and they were both slightly damp. i called out to her and she looked up. yet her eyes did not seem to register my presence. despite looking at my direction, they looked like they were looking through me instead.
sighs...
pulling myself together, i spent the next 3 hours talking to her. i told myself i need to keep her mind active. and through the 3 hours, her memory swung to and fro between her youth to the current reality constantly. at one time, i was talking to my 77 year old mother and how her leg was hurting after the operation, and she would ask me to tell bee that he need to visit her, la la la. and then suddenly, she was a young girl ("is my mother home?" she asked); or as a young mother talking to me her teenage son ("how come you are not in school?")... and once a while, she'd totally forget about things ("who is su how?"). and our conversation would also be punctuated with her slipping into herself. when this occurred, she would just stare blankly into the air and i would end up talking to someone who was no longer around. yet, throughout the time, i had to constantly sound cheerful and engaged her at the level that would keep her going... actually, it was more like i was asking her a lot of questions and often, i had to answer the questions myself. i reminded her of her life, i got her to tell me about her past. and as we conversed, i massaged her bloated-up legs that had continued to pain her ("i don't understand, yesterday, my leg was fine, and today it is all bloated up and painful!"). and as we spoke, she teared non-stop as she could no longer control her tear ducts. once a while, she would try to wipe her tears but she could hardly hold on to the tissues. it was clear that she was also losing her ability to control her muscles.
the conversation was light and easy. yet, i felt a certain wave of emotions as i grappled with the thought that i was losing my mum as i spoke. that saddened me. a few times, i had to consciously hold back my tears from welling-up. frankly, i never know i was able to control my tear duct that well. but i had to. i could not possibly tear in front of her. after having heard about bee's grandma, i roughly knew what to expect. for now, mum could still sit in her wheelchair. but soon enough, she would be bed-ridden. the frequency where she would slip into herself would increase. and eventually, she would go into a state where she would totally be in a state of her own. that would be when we would lose her totally despite her being alive and well. and she would continue to be in that state until life expires on her.
i have time and again heard stories about how dementia sets in for some people not long after their spouse dies. and it tells me of the will-power that kept them going to look after their spouse in their final days. and when they go after their spouse dies, it was probably becos they see no more purpose and aim in their live. now, i see it happening to my own mum. i am sad. but as jason had mentioned before, they are not in pain per se, they are just in another state of consciousness altogether. the challenge therefore, is for me now to remind myself that i have to let her go. it is me that i have to manage. it is my own sense of attachment to her old self that is making me sad. instead, i should treasure this remaining moments with her and also to celebrate that fact that she has lived a good life. that she is ready to enter into this state should be taken as a sign that she has total faith in her childrens' ability to continue living our lives. with this in mind, i should make sure that her onward journey continues to be smooth and comfortable and that i must give her the confidence that we will go on. reflecting on how mum brought me up and how she had placed me in leadership roles in the family in my dads' absence, i guess i now have to also prepare my family and the domestic helper mentally as her condition deteriorates.
thinking of the days to come, i could only use the hokkien phrase the best sums it up: "li chi wa tua, wa chi li lao" or literally "you have raised me up, i'll take care of you till you die".
