Something Else For Mom To Focus On

How to write about the veil of Alzheimer’s that’s appears to be enshrouding my mother, disguising here as a shrunken, glassy-eyed, remnant of the vibrant, funny, independent, and fierce woman that she used to be? How to write about the hope that flashes when, all of a sudden the veil lifts and she makes a joke and gives you that mischievous smile she used to be so good at—Then the veil comes crashing down and she becomes that shell again.

I bought her a baby doll the last time I came to visit. I read somewhere that “baby doll therapy” is good for Alzheimer’s patients. It gives them something to care for, something to focus on, something to carry around with them. I thought it would be more stimulating than sitting in front of the TV.

I ordered her baby doll from the Alzheimer’s Store—a website chock full of items to make an Alzheimer’s patient’s life a bit easier. After a few days, the package arrived. I opened it in front of her. Out of the box came a beautiful, brown, baby boy with curly hair and his finger in his mouth. He felt almost like a real baby. My mother looked at the doll with skepticism—almost as if she didn’t trust it. “Mom, here’s your new baby doll”. “What do you think of him?” No answer—just a look that now has turned inquisitive. “Well, I’ll just leave him sitting right here on the couch, Mom”. No answer.

The rest of the visit was spent with me trying to engage my mom in conversation. I did her nails for her. She smiled and held up her hands to see for herself when I said they looked pretty. I left when it looked like she was getting tired. My trip ended and I went back home.

A few days later my sister called. “You would not believe mom and that baby doll”, she said. “She’s not taking to it, huh?” my response. “Not taking to it”, my sister replied. “She takes it everywhere in the apartment with her—She loves that doll.” When I asked her how she liked the doll she said “He’s great—he’s no trouble¬¬—he doesn’t cry much—he doesn’t do much either—just sits there.” I gave that huge belly laugh of joy that I give when something is so absolutely funny to me—I can’t stand it. There is precious little to laugh at in my mom’s life these days---Each one counts.