Losing And Finding My Mother After Her Stroke

The air outside a hospital feels especially cool and fresh. The natural light, even if it's gray January light is a blessed relief after the fluorescent tunnels I've been guiding my mother along. We had a funny moment of intimacy in the bathroom, trying to get her urine sample in a cup. It isn't easy: crouching, aiming, approximating where in the space below you the stream will collect. Add a daughter trying to micromanage her mother's urine flow and a line of weak-bladdered patients queuing outside, rolling their eyes and tugging at their waistbands and you have all the ingredients of a Mike and Elaine sketch. Sometimes my mother and I do seem to be a traveling comedy duo: arguing in circles in front of strangers in maddening fluorescent hallways. We are the Mike and Elaine of post-hemorrhagic-stroke-induced-dementia. At last I've found a niche in the entertainment industry. I've only been a performer for 30 years. Did Mike and Elaine ever confront the specter of eternal loss in their routines? It's doubtful; it's a real comedy killer. Yet somehow, between the bickering fostered by dementia's time warps and lost threads and a child-turned-caregiver's impatience, hilarity ensues. There's a quiet moment after the overture of a ballet and just before the curtain rises. The audience's breathing grows shallow as it waits in suspense: what will the opening tableau on stage be? As my mother and I sit in the crisp air of a not-too-cold winter's day and wait just outside the ho...
Source: Healthy Living - The Huffington Post - Category: Consumer Health News Source Type: news