Bandage Box

This morning I received a call from Chrissy stating that she had fallen last night and had cut her arm. As her skin is so incredibly thin, it tears easily. I rushed over and found her sitting on the sofa with a bloody two inch place. She had brought the "bandage box" in and had it sitting on the coffee table. As I began to work on her arm she stated, "your grey hair makes me feel old" and continued with, "you need to put on some lipstick"! Nothing about how or where she had fallen. Nor did I let her know that I'd rushed over and was not yet ready for the day.

Last night she was complaining about her hair bothering her and we agreed that this morning it would be shampooed and I'd roll it up. So after bandaging her arm together I returned home to get myself ready. A little over an hour I'm back there and could see she had already shampooed her hair and it was practically dry. I so wanted to tell her, yet again, that she wasn't to do that unless someone's with her but didn't as those words are pretty much useless. Anyway, Ms. Chrissy insists that she has not washed her hair - even though the wet towel is lying on her chair, hair rollers are on the table, shampoo is out and her sink is wet!
So - okay, I just put in her hair barrettes.

I realize that for the past three hours I didn't argue or fuss or try to reason with Chrissy....I just went along. Later I called my sister to talk with her and relate the morning events. So this morning I am thankful that I live next door to my little mother, that I have one sibling out of six who provides encouragement, and for the Alzheimer's Reading Room, http://www.alzheimersreadingroom.com/.

And, while cognitively I know there will only be continued decline, as this insidious disease is ultimately fatal; my desire is to show her love and to communicate this love in whatever way she understands...              
she is still here.