Eight Calls

Since yesterday just before 3PM, mom has called eight times regarding her eye appointment today. I called her back to learn/reassure her about:

  • The appointment is 1.5-2 hours long.
  • There is no surgery tomorrow. (A procedure, not surgery will be done at some point)
  • She needed to know if I was taking her because we haven’t talked in SOOOO long. (what was Friday?)
  • I’d pick her up at 10:15 today.
  • We needed to get to the doc’s office at 10:45.
This morning’s voicemail instructed me to arrive much earlier because she found out yesterday afternoon she needed to arrive by 10AM for an 11AM appointment, because there were ‘preliminaries.’ I looked at my husband and said, “She has lost her mind.” Then I called the doc’s office, because what if she was right? Hello Anxiety!! She’s wrong, I’m right. Hola, Dementia. I do not know where this stuff comes from, nor will I ever get to know. What I do know is that in moments like these, when I’m feeling assaulted and vulnerable by my mother’s own cycling anxiety, driven/caused by her dementia, I just want to flee. Lucky my hubby took my car today… The fun, powerful coup that would make escape easy… In order for me to drive his wagon, which is easier for mom to get in and out of. More tea, and a few deep breaths.

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