Page 92 of Love & Other Disasters

Thirty-One

Jordan lived in a world that no longer resembled anything that he’d worked to build. A white coated doctor with rimless glasses perched on the end of his nose, informed J.P. he’d scheduled tests to check for early onset Alzheimer’s five years ago. She’d cancelled the appointments and never returned to his office.

And now the MRI scans showed severe damage. Five years wasted that they could have tried the medications to slow the progression. Five years of missed opportunities for him to notice the decline, if he’d only been there. Relying on Ethan had been a massive mistake, and he hadn’t shared the information until too late.

The physician prescribed a combination of medications considered for the moderate to severe stage to help her keep some basic functions for a while longer. But, the speed of progression wasn’t an exact science. He’d read the information provided, went home, and did the worst thing imaginable—an internet search. He hadn’t slept much since.

“Our Memory Care unit now includes intergenerational activities with local high school students and aroma therapy to stimulate the mind. This is our living room space,” said the woman, motioning around the spacious room with plenty of couches and chairs. Several residents milled about, some stared at the television, one worked on a puzzle at a side table. One lady in a rocking chair soothed a baby doll.

“We also have sensory paint and music programs and offer pet therapy.”

How did his reality include a tour of the Memory Care unit of the Assisted Living Home? It didn’t seem real as he followed the admissions director around the facility, and he didn’t remember her name. The irony of that not lost on him. All of the doctors had advised against taking her back to her home, especially since he was planning to work part of the week in Nashville.

“Our wrist band technology system allows us to know where each resident is on the floor. We assure a safe environment while giving as much freedom as the resident can handle. Our residents have access to exclusive dining, living, and activity areas,” she continued.

Early onset Alzheimer’s. The words echoed in his head on a loop. His mom’s rapid decline surprised him, but not the doctors who said that with no interventions, the disease had run its course unchecked. The unfairness of it all consumed him. And questions lingered about why she didn’t pursue testing or tell anyone. Perhaps it was her choice to live in peace, or maybe denial was that strong. But, she’d been there for him before he could remember, so he’d be there for her after she couldn’t any longer.

“We have stations around the floor to provide life-staging activities such as washing machines, baby changing tables, and folding stations allows residents to safely recreate activities they once did. Your mother’s room will be over here,” she said, leading him down a brightly colored hallway. The outside of these rooms looked like tiny houses complete with shuttered windows with planter boxes.

The cuteness of the facility stood in stark contrast to the reality the people who lived in these rooms faced. But if it was possible to give them moments of happiness or tranquility when it all seemed so confusing, then why not?

Her room had a twin bed, an armoire for clothes, a small flat screen on the wall flanked by two bookcases for personal items.

“I’d recommend putting pictures of her family and decorating it up like she did at home, within reason. Nothing too heavy or sharp for obvious reasons.”

J.P. nodded. The place looked clean, and they said that there were tons of activities and people trained to keep her safe and as happy as possible. How did he pick out a place for his mother to live the rest of her life? One in which she’d forget everything and everyone. What if he made the wrong decision? His brother wanted nothing to do with the decision making, so it fell to him.

After four months of sessions with Dr. Haytko, the therapist Jill recommended, Violet was ready to let her mother back into her life with boundaries. She had rehearsed scenarios, role playing with the doctor strategies for the upcoming conversation. But the best part of seeing a therapist was working on herself and the version she wanted to become.

Violet sat at the kitchen table and sipped the glass of sweet tea that her mom poured and recapped in her brain what she wanted to say. Her mom milled about the room, putting away dishes.

“I wanted to talk about the reason’s that things fell apart.”

She stopped and turned. “You refused to apologize for hurting your sisters’ feelings.”

Violet inhaled and counted to ten. “Yes, the family dynamic where I am the peacemaker, the one who always compromises…” she stopped. Dr. Haytko warned against using “always” and “never” statements. “Let me start again. I feel that ever since I was a child that a pattern developed where I am the only one to compromise. I feel that this hasn’t been fair to me.”

Her mom’s wrinkled face, saying she didn’t understand. “That’s not true.”

“You don’t see it because you were fine with the way things were until I stood up for myself. When I expressed my feelings, you became angry and demanded that I obey you like a child. You do not respect me and that’s not okay.”

“There was nothing wrong with the way things were. We were happy and had family dinners every Sunday. What other family do you know getting together like that? I treated you with respect. You went off the deep end and became downright mean.”

“I wasn’t happy with the way things were, and I didn’t go off the deep end. No, I quit letting everyone run over me and use me.”

“What do you mean you weren’t happy? You were happy. You’re my career girl, off taking over the business world. You didn’t need a man. And that’s what happened. That man filled your head with nonsense and put you against us.”

“Not true. My career was a joke and going nowhere. And J.P. wanted me to make up with you from the start.” And he wasn’t in her life anymore.

“I always liked him,” she said, wistfully.

“Mom.”

She shook her head. “I just don’t know how you can now claim after all these years that things with you were so different than what I thought. The truth didn’t change.”

“I realized the truth, and how I had to bow to the whims of you and Jill to keep the peace. I was never allowed to voice an opinion.” There wasn’t a point in continuing an argument.

“Why does everyone always blame the mother?” she sighed.

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