Today the room stank when I walked in. Most of my visits begin while she's at a meal so I can check things out. The last time it smelled like this was the beginning of a terrible stomach bug that went through the whole place and included my stomach and my place.
Quickly I assessed the bed was rumpled, but not soiled. The new pants purchased just a week ago were hanging over one of the dining chairs as opposed to the laundry basket in the bathroom. They were wet and soiled. Following my new self-preservation protocol I put on a pair of gloves, got a garbage bag, and without any fanfare put the new pants in the bag for the trash. Next, I wiped down the chair with a disinfectant wipe. I opened the patio door to air the room out, but the smell was still strong.
I hadn't looked at the chair at first, but there it was. Smeared poop on the edge of the beautiful upholstery and on the blanket covering the chair that I'd just washed last weekend. Another pair of gloves, another bag, another trip outside.
When I returned she was back in her chair having not noticed her guest chair had been turned against the wall so she wouldn't sit in it without the cushion. All she noticed was my arrival and that it was really cold in the room.
"Mom, I had to remove the chair cushion again because I have to get the poop off of it. Are you feeling ok? When did this happen? This morning? Yesterday? Are your socks clean? Let me see. I have your pants (no mention of their demise in the trash outside). I know you try to take care of everything yourself, but you need to call for help next time you have a mess. The aide can help you get your pants off without making a mess on the furniture. Can you try to press your button and call for help next time?"
"Yes."
"Good, that'll be very helpful. Now, do you want to play some Scrabble?"
"Yes."
And the next two hours wittled away with game after game. She caught every word I misspelled.
Later in the afternoon I hosed the blanket and slipcover off on my front porch. All the while I kept wondering "How can she still spell, but doesn't know when she has to use the toilet?"
If I were playing Scrabble only using words to describe this experience of trying to care for her through this dreadful dementia journey I'd use - baffling- pathetic - sad - maddening.
Two afternoons ago she started to cry when I was leaving, "Why are you crying?" "It's so sad that I have to live here." Yes, yes it is. What is happening to her is beyond sad, pathetic, baffling, and maddening. It's unstoppable and cruel.