Reflections on Raindrops
A Daughter’s Diary of a Decade of Dedication to Two Parents Struggling with Alzheimer’s Disease and Vascular Dementia
by
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New Year’s Day 2005, we were expecting Mamma and Sam to leave within a few days, and I wanted to make the afternoon special. I prepared an attractive buffet for the four of us to enjoy while we continued watching the marathon of bowl games. The assortment wasn’t elaborate, but the food surrounding the centerpiece on the large, round coffee table included meatballs, small sandwiches, sliced vegetables, crackers paired with dips, fruit, a relish plate, nuts, and sweets. There would be no reason for me to return to the kitchen and miss a single play.
To my dismay, before the end of the first quarter, Mamma and Pop were silently and meticulously removing the mini-feast. I voiced my objections. “Don’t bother putting things away. Why don’t we let the food wait until half time? Have another snack. How about some grapes? Did you see that catch?” My protests went unheeded, and nothing would allow the food to remain in the living room. As I reluctantly supplied plastic storage containers and loaded the dishwasher, under my breath I grumbled, “Happy New Year!”
*****The next day Sam asked Mamma whether she was ready to go home. He mentioned to her that I would be going back to school and that they had been with us for two weeks. To our bewilderment, instead of agreeing with him, she left her seat on the sofa and elegantly strolled from the room. We all looked at each other and wondered, what just happened?
She didn’t seem anxious to return to her conflicts in Key West, and it was a beautiful day, so she and I retreated to the dock to go fishing. The spacious deck and dock at one corner of our little acre provides ample space for casual entertaining. Lake Spivey is small enough for us to see cypress trees and orange groves beyond the still waters, but it’s spacious enough to safely allow boaters to pull members of the younger population on skis, knee boards, tubes, or rafts.
Florida’s Nature Coast was literally soaking up the benefits of a wet winter, and our lake system had returned from the previous year’s barren shores back to productive fishing basins. The rising waters brought a bountiful supply of freshwater species, and we were once again able to catch fish with a cane pole from our dock. (Since I wasn’t remotely interested in cleaning or cooking our trophies, we agreed on a “catch and release” policy. In other words, catch what you can and then release what you catch … and we’ll all go out to eat.)
Whether the fish are biting or not, the ever-present water birds are entertaining. Redwing black birds, bluebirds, or a lone kingfisher might be seen clutching a cattail stem, while swaying in the breeze. The large blue-black grackles swoop through the air, begging for scraps of bread. A lone white egret or great blue heron will appear along the shore, expecting a handout, while a limpkin wades and searches for mussels. Storks, ibises, and small herons are regular visitors to the floating islands of aquatic plants; as purple gallinules stroll across the lily pads, and coots bob like decorative corks in the water. Fishing our side of the lake in the morning calls for sunglasses and hats because the sun rises intensely across the cattails, but in the late afternoon the oaks provide a canopy of shade that, along with the breeze, make the dock comforting and relaxing.
Mamma quietly fished throughout their vacation, while Pop was happy to be a spectator; although one chilly afternoon he pulled in two large catfish that dwarfed the panfish the rest of us had caught. He was thrilled as I photographed him with his trophies. A few days later, when I reminded Sam of his catch and asked him to retell the story of his success, he boastfully exclaimed that he had caught two large mangrove snappers (saltwater fish) and had given them to Eddie to sell.
*****Sam didn’t seem overly concerned about their return, but he did mention that the first-of-the-month mail would need attention. Mamma rose from her seat and walked out of the room. The next day he asked for the third time, “Are you ready to go home, sweetie?’’ There was no response from Mamma. Gene and I began to wonder what was going on.
She asked, “Do I have to go?”
Gene and I assured her, “You do not have to go now or ever. We love you both, and we would love to have you stay. We all have so much fun together.” We emphasized that we had lots of room and that it was her decision to make.
For the next few days each time Mamma discussed moving here, Sam told her, “Your younger daughter isn’t going to like it.”
And each time Mamma would reply with determination, “I have to do what is best for me.”
Their need for full-time eldercare was being met head on. Sam agreed to support her decision while voicing concern for family unity. For years Colleen and her husband had helped Mamma and Pop from their home three houses away, but I believe Mamma thought that losing her control of her own home would be worse than leaving it.
Gene and I expected her to change her mind at any time, so I avoided discussing her wish to live here with other family members. Pop agreed the move would be good for them, while expressing concern about Colleen and Ricky in Key West. Mamma maintained her position, “I have to do what is best for me,” I called Eddie. When I asked Mamma if she wanted to talk to Colleen or Ricky, she said, “Not yet.”
But if she has children or grandchildren, their first responsibility is to show Godliness at home and repay their parents by taking care of them. —1 Timothy 5:4
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About the Book
Be careful what you pray for! The first week in January 2005, a family’s prayers for direction were answered. Reflections on Raindrops, by Jeanie T. Roberts, is the memoir of a couple in their sixties who delay retirement dreams to care for parents with dementia. With only eighteen years between their ages, Jeanie and her mother had grown up together. It was natural that Jeanette should surrender her battle with the advancing stages of Alzheimer’s disease to her daughter and son-in-law. Their story is often painful, sometimes humorous, and authentically coupled with survival tips learned during their on job training. Gene and Jeanie were aware that dealing with the mental and physical deterioration accompanying her mother’s fight with Alzheimer’s disease would be difficult, but they had not recognized the challenges arising from her step-father’s advancing vascular dementia. As her parents regressed from familiar functioning adults into childlike strangers, Gene and Jeanie drew on strategies learned while teaching and coaching sometimes reluctant teens. The story of their ten years together is enriched by poems Jeanie wrote during times of mounting stress, along with scripture references that would help them mold their struggles into victories.
About the Author
A home economics scholarship to Florida State in 1960 allowed Jeanie to escape the limiting world she knew as the oldest of six children in a family of migrant shrimpers. At FSU she met her future husband Gene, who was on a football scholarship. She worked in science labs while each pursued a degree in secondary education. Family, Bible study, sewing, painting, and following FSU football are among her passions.