The Reason Why

There really is a method to my madness; a rhyme to my reason. 

My mother passed away almost ten years now. She died with vascular dementia. She went to her room for a Sunday afternoon nap and never woke again. She went peacefully and quietly. But that is not how the days and years were prior to that afternoon. They were anything but peaceful and quiet. 

If you know anything about Alzheimer’s and dementia, you know that often it is not peaceful for the inflicted person. Caretakers suffer as well especially if they are family members. For all her life, my mom was known as Sweet Helen. She was quiet, meek, and pleasant to be around. She taught us kids kindness without actually teaching us kindness. She was the example. 

My family moved to North Carolina in 1982. I was married and pregnant with my first child at that time so I stayed in Indiana. We were never to live near each other again, but Mom and I sure spent a lot of time on the phone. During those early years long-distant calls cost a pretty penny as you were charged for the length of your call and the time of day. But it was worth it. 

One day I remember telling my brother and sister that there was something off with Mom. They lived near her and saw her frequently. They couldn’t tell. But I could. I noticed the subtle changes. Finally after a couple of years, they started noticing too. It was a gradual change for her. 

Then it was as if all hell broke loose and this person who was sweet and gentle starting swearing and was in a constant state of anger.  She said awful things to my siblings. She always expressed love to me though when we talked on the phone. That was because I wasn’t there telling her what she needed to do and how she was going to do it. No, my brother and sister took the wrath from this person who stole our mother. 

It took a very long time to get a true diagnosis. It was a complicated process. My brother and sister were doing the best they could to get her to her appointments which she was often reluctant to go. During this period,  Mom contacted her niece in Wisconsin and told her about her awful children and how they were taking her car away and putting her in a home. Even though it had been decades since my mom had even spoken to her niece, my cousin believed her every word. 

We still don’t know how it all came about but somehow the niece bought Mom a plane ticket to Minnesota to my mom’s sister’s home near the Fargo, North Dakota border. That’s a very long way from Raleigh, NC. We have no idea how she packed or got to the airport or how she even managed to make her way through any part of the journey.  All we know is we couldn’t find Mom. You can only imagine how scared we were. We filed a missing persons report with the police and eventually that’s where they found her. 

The police called my aunt and asked if our mom was there. She said yes but refused to let Mom talk to the police. The police insisted that they must talk to her since there was a report filed. Mom told the police she wanted to stay there. Since she didn’t have an official diagnosis they had to assume she was of sound mind. There was nothing we could do. My mom’s sister and her neice thought they were rescuing my mom from her evil children. Had they just listened closely to my mom they would have known she was ill. My mom’s whole world revolved around us kids and her grandkids. Mom never had an issue with any of us. Her sister should have known that because they were fairly close. 

Mom stayed up there for a couple of weeks. Then my sister and my aunt started talking to each other by phone. My aunt and uncle were seeing the true Helen now and knew she was ill. And then my mom wanted to go home. I’m not sure what all transpired but the police were involved and they found Mom at the airport in NC and got her home. 

When my brother and sister finally found a “safe” facility for her to live after her diagnosis, Mom escaped her room by crawling out the window. It was the only unsecured window in the whole facility. She gathered all her possessions and pictures and wrapped them up in a sheet. Out the window all her things went along with Mom. Once outside she set the sheet next to a dumpster and made her way across the front lawn and then across a street. She went to a home and knocked on the door. She pleaded with them that she needed help because her children were trying to put her away. Well, the homeowner also owned the health care facility where Mom had just escaped. She was taken back. But by then the trash man had come and hauled off Mom’s possession-filled sheet. 

This is an extremely short version of only a couple events that took place. It no way describes what my siblings had to deal with or work through for a couple of years. Lots of tears were shed during that time. When Mom passed we found relief that she was no longer tormented by a mind that didn’t belong to her. 

When I think about what could happen to me in the future, I know I just cannot put my kids through that type of agony. So I decided I must do all I can to prevent or ward off dementia. I’m not of the mindset that simply because my mom had it there’s nothing I can do to prevent it. I just don’t believe that. It’s not my destiny. Well, not if I have anything to say about it. 

So this is why I have made the choices I do about my health. This is why I choose to be carnivore. Sugar is a huge issue when it comes mental illness. I know how sugar (carbs) adversely affects me. Doesn’t matter if it’s refined sugars or not. My body treats it all the same. I know how I feel when I eat SAD (Standard American Diet). I also admit that I have an awful sugar addiction. This is why I need to avoid foods that will destroy my mind and body, especially if it will affect my mind. I think I’d prefer to handle a broken body over a broken mind. 

I don’t want to say hurtful things to my children.

I don’t want to mix up stories or create false ones.

I don’t want to tell them that I hate them. Or, that I love one and despise the others.

I don’t want to swear at them.

I don’t want to physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually abuse my children.

What I do want…is to leave my children with loving words filled with wisdom. I want our final days to be a beautiful summary of our life together and our conversations to be filled with encouragement and love. 

This is why I do the things I do, even as strange as they may seem. I may not be able to prevent all that is bad but if I can ward it off, soften it, or eliminate it altogether, it will be well worth it. 

For my children….

♥️

Andi