|Mom and one of her babies|
It's Christmas 2011. Mom is still alive. She believes that she has a baby named Joseph. She is lost in a life that only exists in her mind. The key to keeping her calm is often hidden, which is part of the challenge of caring for her.
"Hurry! He needs food." Mom was frantic as she spoke into the phone last night.
"Look. I got to go." She continued.
"Where are you going? Can I help?" I replied, hoping to understand what she was trying to express in fragmented phrases.
"Where's the key?!" Verbalizing a thought that made total sense to her.
"I have it." I answered.
"Don't you understand?!" Mom spoke through clenched teeth with a stern tone. A tone I remembered well; I was not a model child.
"How should I proceed? I need your help to understand." Calmly I asked for her opinion, a technique I use to figure out what is bothering her in order to redirect her attention to something more pleasant.
Our conversation ended as quickly as it began. Mom lost interest and rushed off to chase her hallucinations.
Today is Christmas; is it the last Christmas?