Memorial at the Beach – Days Six & Seven – Anesthesia

On our last night at the beach (Sunday) my husband walked my mom up to her trailer. When it came up in their conversation that we were leaving the next day, mom went sideways on him, insisting that I’d told her we were leaving on Tuesday or Wednesday. She spun on her heel, and, in the dark, went to find me. I received a text message and dodged the bullet by heading out the back door of the lodge as mom headed in the front door.

Each day we were at the beach mom asked multiple (4-5) times a day, “What day is it? What day are we leaving? What day are you taking me back to the ferry?” My answers were consistent. 
I need to trust my mother’s constant lack of short term memory. She was cheerful the next morning. Our five hour drive back home was just fine. I dropped her off at her place, and headed to mine to unpack, do a mountain of laundry, and decompress. When I picked her up two hours later, she told me she wanted to stay on an addition day to garden, punctuating it with, “…if that’s alright with you!” I said it was just fine, but if she wanted to get back to the Island on Wednesday, we’d have to get her on the mid-morning boat as I have commitments later in the day. She was surprised and looked a tad undermined. 

When I took her back to her place after a Chinese take-out dinner, and a go at Sunday’s crossword puzzle, she asked what we were getting up to tomorrow. While keeping my chin off the floor, I reminded her that she wanted to garden, and said I had a lot to do in the morning. She asked if she could help me, ending the sentence with her, “…I’m Just asking!” I said she couldn’t and why didn’t I pick her up early afternoon so we could hit the grocery store together, because it would be hard to survive on the celery and sour cream that was inhabiting my fridge. She laughed.

Mom’s manipulative streak has developed with her disease. I understand her having a hard time leaving the beach and the dear friends who are there. I’m even (sorta) OK being used as a scapegoat when she’s upset and doesn’t remember the travel schedule. I am bamboozled by what appears to be her manipulative maneuvering at getting her way (going home on Wednesday), creating reasons for staying here longer (gardening), fumbling those reasons last night (which is why I think she’s probably being manipulative), YET she’s no longer at the beach where she wanted to stay!! 

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