Disappearing numbers were the first real sign to me and my sister that Mom's flakiness was a means of alarm. She would call us over, genuinely upset when writing checks to make out her bills. "I know how to write `7,' " she'd say, "but I can't for the life of me remember how to write "teen."
She made the best of it: January 17 would be "January 7teen," and a check for $40 written out "4t dollars and 00/cents."
As it got worse, we changed things up: Teri and I each carried a debit card for Mom's groceries and other shopping, while I took control of her finances and bill paying. Legally. If you're facing a similar situation with your own parents, get an attorney and do it right: Get Legal and Medical Power of Attorney to cover your bases. When it comes time to "force" [hospitals, IRS, cable TV] to give you information that your parents will not retain, you need that piece of paper.
So, great! We got the money figured out, right?
But money was never the issue. Numbers were.
- I'll pick you up at 5:00.
- Today is January 6.
- Microwave for 3 minutes.
- 40 mph
- Take 1 pill every 6 hours day for 10 days.
- 1234 Main Street
- Please call 217-555-1212.
- I will be there in 2 hours.
- Brian will be home in 11 months.
Man, we need our numbers for a lot more than math, and even when you still have all of your other faculties about you, having them deleted from your repertoire can really jack with your life. What do you do?
You acclimate.
What's today's date? becomes "Tomorrow is Christmas, and we're going to have a big dinner with the entire family!"
I'll be there in 2 hours becomes "I'll call you when I'm on my way."
Microwave for 3 minutes becomes "Hit this button that says "DINNER PLATE" (Circle said button with a big old Sharpie marker. Yes. Get over yourself, and write right on the brand new microwave.)
Drive 40 mph becomes...Driving is long gone, she gave it up willingly after staring at the dashboard and realizing "I don't know where the turn signal is."
(Still, "Want to drive today, Mom?" is a joke that makes us laugh every time "Oh, SURE," she'll say sarcastically, "hand me the keys." We laugh and laugh...while she crawls into the passenger side, hopefully of our own car.)
For other issues, we outsmart Alzheimer's with Gadgets:
2 pills in the morning, and 3 in the evening? Here's a Godsend that only I have the key to, in Mom's house:
Beep-beep-beep, grind grind, rotate rotate, here are your pills, little chicken! No more "did I take this mornings pills? Maybe I should eat some more!" Seriously, I can't remember to take a vitamin a day; if I ever end up with a slew of Rx, I'll be buying one of these for myself.
"If you ever need anything, just call me, Mom," is easy with this gadget. "Just pick up the phone and punch me in the face!" I tell her. My photo is there, along with Clint, Tim & the kids, her sister Karla in California, and cousin Mary.
Don't get your panties in a wad if you're not on the immediate phone list—consider yourself lucky! Remember that numbers/time issue? Seeing 5:00 on the giant digital clock we bought her means nothing to Mom...in the morning.
Neither does the time change from Illinois to California.
Poor Aunt Karla.
