The Google, The Mouse and It’s Not Her Fault Friday, Aug 21 2015 

I’m sure there are plenty of you that are dealing with an aging parent with dementia issues. If you’ve read any of my blog you know I’ve been down this path before, and that I understand exactly how this process works. But I’ve recently been slapped with a reminder that I might need to take a refresher course, or possibly adjust my expectations. I may need to dust off my mantra and restart saying a phrase I used to say all the time with my mother in law that helped me keep my balance when she was off. It’s not her fault.

This most recent awake up call occurred last week when my Mom called me to tell me her computer, a gadget she used to be very proficient using, just had ‘the Goggle’ on it. First of all, ‘the Google’ is not something she would have uttered a few years ago. She knew it was Google. Second, she would have known that if her PC was reaching Google, it was reaching the internet. I spent quite some time over the phone trying to figure out exactly what her screen was displaying, and how to get her to be able to open her email. I pictured the white Google search engine page, even went to my PC, pulled it up and started to direct her to her email link. Then she started telling me what she was seeing on her page, and none of it made any sense. I explained that if she had Google availability, she could get to her email, since ‘Gmail’ was Google mail. I asked questions. In the upper right hand corner of your screen do you see…? Read to me what your screen says. Etc. etc. Many answers were provided with a timid no, and I wasn’t able to tell if the items I was asking her to look for were really not there or she just didn’t understand. In her frustration she finally said all she wanted was to get to her email. I restated since she had access to Google, she had access to her Gmail account. After some time, we worked through the issues presented, and she was able to access her email. She was relieved and I was exhausted.

The situation was unsettling for me because I know how she used to be able to move around on her PC. But, being somewhat in denial, I packed the episode away and let it be. It wasn’t her fault.

Yesterday Mom called and talked about many random things. In the course of the conversation she mentioned that she’d had a computer person out to the house because she thought she had a computer virus. He’d told her she did have a virus and it was because she had been using her mouse backwards. Now this really didn’t make any sense. First of all, that’s just BS, because a right click just brings up a menu. Second, ever since Mom has used a PC, her mouse has been programmed backwards due to her wrist issues. Her right side is double click (main operation like the rest of us) and the left side is one click to menu. She uses her ring finger and pinky to operate the mouse and has for the last 20 years. But when the repair guy tells her mouse is backwards, she doesn’t recall this and lets him change it to normal mode. When I tell her mouse has been configured like this for a reason, at her request because of her wrist, she states she doesn’t recall this, but it makes sense because she’s been trying to use it the way he said and her wrist hurts.

I am used to her forgetting recent things, but the mouse issue is not a recent thing and it was a big deal, something she really was focused on. My full blown awake up call has arrived. We’ve moved into another level and I need to get a grip on where we are now. I need to dust off my coping skills, practice my balancing act, repeat my mantra “It’s not her fault”, and stow my frustration.

Because truly, it’s not her fault.

Just Close Your Eyes (Not a Country Song) Friday, Feb 20 2015 

No, really, I sat in the car, my Mother’s car, in the passenger seat, with my eyes closed.   My Mother is driving at my request.  I am testing her and she is actually doing okay.  Not “great” and she drives quite differently than she did previously, but I am not too worried.  But to keep from reacting when she skims too close to a car parked on the side of the road,  I just close my eyes.  I don’t inhale.  I don’t tense up or say anything.  I practice all my self restraint. When I don’t hear the mirrors crunch, I open my eyes.  It’s going to be okay.

I’ve started going to all Mom’s doctor appointments.  She’s taking what appears to be the only memory med she is going to be able to take and it is at a reduced level because she had side effects when she tried to step up to a higher/preferred dose.  They’ve already determined she cannot take Aricept.  She reacted to the higher doses of Namenda.  I am not sure if I am imaging she shows some slight improvement since she’s been on the med, but I sure want to think it.

For the last appointment, I decide that I need to see for myself how she is doing with her driving.  Dad is having more and more trouble physically, and she’s been taking on the driving.  But she did not do well on the driving memory test given by one her doctors, so I am worried.  The answer, I think, is to check it out myself.  I explain why I want her to drive, and she’s fine with it.  I expect her to be nervous, but she doesn’t appear to be.  I am ready for a slightly too slow trip.  I even allowed extra time.  Ha!  No need. That is not what happens, as she has sped up.  Acceleration is now her friend.  And as mentioned above, I closed my eyes (three times) when she fails to move away from objects too close on the side of the road.  But all in all, she did okay.  So the driving argument of ‘you can’t drive anymore’ is postponed for a while at least.  She even remembers to ask me when we get home how she did.  That’s why I think the meds might be providing a slight spark.  The Mom of a few months ago, probably would  have not thought to ask.