The Hard Part

The hard part comes when my mother calls me and she is scared. Scared because she doesn't understand where she is or why people have given her a bath, a real bath with all her clothes off. This is the part that scares her the most, I think. This and the fact that she often truly doesn't know where she is. And if she doesn't know where she is, how will we know? I can't imagine that fear. When I walk into her room her face brightens with recognition and then as quickly as that smile arrives it fades and her eyes remain on me for a few seconds then wander to her photo album or her blanket or nothing at all.

In our routine what I see now is the complete lack of privacy for anyone in this situation. We visit and share our visit with staff who come in and out of her room freely, her roommate who may or may not hear and understand our conversation, anyone and everyone in the dayroom or in the lobby where we often sit hears our conversation and often joins in, as we do with theirs. In my career in health care I've often heard of the importance of developing a community within the long term care facilities, but it never occurred to me that some may not want this community. I don't. I want privacy when I visit my mother. I want her to myself. I want her to herself. I want my mother. Knowing I will never have her again, do not have her now, that's the part that scares me the most.