"How much does this cost you?" That was the question Mother had today. She was lying in bed and chewing on her skin. She grabbed the loose skin at her wrist between her teeth and pulled it out. She repeated both the question and the chewing. It struck me as such a typical Alzheimer's moment.
She had been lying there thinking in some manner about the cost of her care. She has no sense of money anymore. She will tell you that a soft drink costs one hundred dollars or that a car costs twenty-five dollars. It is all jumbled in her mind, yet she had a moment of awareness that her care in the home cost money. She was worried. I told her she had enough money and not to worry. She smiled and kept gnawing away at her arm.
I put the small terrycloth wrist band on her arm so that she could chew that. She told me it didn't taste good. She pulled if off and went back to chewing on her arm. (Last week I had to throw away a shirt that had a hole in the shoulder from her chewing.)
"My inheritance will pay for this." Inheritance? There is no inheritance. And truth be told, she doesn't have enough money for her care. But I cannot tell her. It would only worry her more, and the chewing would increase. She is just lucid enough today to think about money and care, but not lucid enough to know that there is no money or that she is chewing away her clothing and her arm.
Last week she grabbed my hand and pleaded, "please take care of me." Of course I will. I do in the best way I know how. There is no road map to follow, so I do the best I can from day to day. I tell her not to worry. She will be ok. She doesn't have to worry about the cost. We will take care of her. Somehow. It will work out.
