Unmarked Path

Mother is back. This last month has been a difficult journey as Mother recovered from the flu.  Today she was talking again.  I didn't think I would hear her be herself again, but she was back today.  She knew me when I walked in the room, and she said my name.  She commented on the TV show that was airing.  I was amazed.

This journey with dementia is an unmarked path.  Many have traveled the path before, and there are generalities that apply to many people, but each person's journey through dementia is different.  I had no idea that the flu could cause such profound changes, and after three weeks I was losing any hope of Mother regaining speech or interest in the world.  The virus that the rest of us throw off in a matter of days knocked her down completely.  It led us into deep shadows.  I was trying to process what kind of a life Mother might have in the depths of that shadowy place.  It was bleak.

But now the path is brighter.  She watches the activity in the hall and comments.  She is interested in the advertisement on TV for Shirley Temple movies.  She wanted to hold hands while we watched TV.  She sipped her Coke and said, "Whoa, Nellie!" as the first sip stung her throat.  She was back.

I'm profoundly happy to have her back.  The shadow has been pushed back into the corners, but I know it is still there.  Something else, some virus or fall, could send her back into the shadow and onto another unmarked path.  Now even in the happiness of the moment, I have to acknowledge that at some point it may come again.  So, I stack my mental cairns along the way trying to mark the path.  Trying not to be surprised.  Trying not to be frightened the next time it comes.