Additional Observations From Today

It had been my intention to take mom somewhere other than sushi next time we went out to lunch, but that’s what was within her walking distance from the dental office, aside from pizza and sandwich shops, which I can’t indulge in. The same perfect waiter who seated us last time we ate there, guided us to the same booth. I ordered edamame, and mom and I looked at the menu. She seemed more interested in the menu this time, but let me order in the end.

When our meal arrived mom took wasabi, placed it on her plate, mushed it around, and then poured soy sauce from the little dipping dish onto her plate to mix the two together. I watched with fascination. After a moment she realized she’d done the operation backwards, picked up the plate and poured the mix back into the dipping dish. She did this in between each piece of sushi she ate. By the 5th piece I said with a smile, “You like it spicy!” She replied, “I like mixing the wasabi in my soy sauce.” By the seventh piece of sushi, and ever potent soy, it’s surprising she didn’t blow her head off due to the heat of the wasabi.

At the beginning of our time at the restaurant mom admired the wooden chop stick, saying how much nicer they were than the usual ones offered in most establishements. Part way into the meal, she changed her tune, saying the ones we were using were inferior to the bamboo variety. She had less trouble using her ‘sticks’ today.

We returned to the car, and pulled out of the parking place when mom asked if we could stop at the drug store. I parked in the garage. The store had what she wanted (which I noticed later she had written down on a list on her counter!). As we turned from the cash register to leave, mom tried to walk out onto the street. I redirected her, and she asked, “Where are we parked.” “In the garage, mom.” She again tried to exit at the next door leading onto street. This time I touched her shoulder, gestured the way I wanted her to go, and said, “This way.” We went through the doors to the elevator that takes you to the garage, and she asked again, “Where are we parked?” This all happened in the space of 6 seconds.

When we got back the mom’s apartment I excused myself to use her bathroom. I observed:

  • Two bottles of shampoo.
  • Two bottles of body wash.
  • Two pump handsoaps.
  • Three bottles of lotion. And…
  • That she didn’t need to buy the astringent at the drug store, because there was a half a bottle left.
This leads me to ponder that her redundant supplies (all out at once) are about:
  • Her feeling safe. 
  • Her routine driven shopping life from when she lived independently. Then it was food. Now it’s toiletries.
  • Dementia.

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