The Crazy Gene

I think my mom secured me as her care giver when I was a little girl.  She often told me about "the Crazy Gene."  She worried that one of her kids would inherit it.

My mom has a wild story, it's more than likely the real reason I feel the need to care for her.

She grew up during the Great Depression in Roxbury, Massachusetts.  She was the youngest of 4 kids, born to Italian immigrants. 

My grandmother foraged for food, pulling dandelion greens, sorel and other food plants we would consider weeds today.  All foods that are rich in nutrients, which I believe my Grandmother intuitively knew would be good to help her kids ward off the "Crazy Gene."

My mom, never spoke a word to her mother in Italian, never.  Her mom never spoke a word of English to her.  They communicated somehow.  I still find it amazing that my mom never spoke to her mom.  It's sad that she never was given the chance to learn from her mom the things that could have helped her to raise a healthier family and avoid the illness herself.

When my mom was 6 years old, her dad passed away from pneumonia.  He worked in the sewers of Boston, he had a great job that afforded his family lots of luxury, one of the few who had a job during the Depression.

Life changed for my mom and her siblings when their dad died.  My grandmother didn't speak English.  She never had to worry about anything, my grandfather took care of it all.  Everything. 

Time passed, not a lot of time and my grandmother lost their house.  Homeless, she took her 4 kids to the local Catholic Church where they slept in the pews.  I don't know how long they slept in church before a family member took them in.

I remember my mom telling me that when she was 6 years old and her life turned upside down, she was laying in bed and saw the Infant of Prague appear above her bed.  The baby Jesus floated above her and scared the shit out of her.  She tried to close her eyes but she couldn't.  Then she told me she felt peace, that the Christ Child made her feel like she would be protected.

And she was....

The family moved in with cousins, I think one of the cousins was Louise of "Louise's Raviolli's."  My mom often told me stories about how great a cook Louise was, she made the biggest and best homemade raviolli's.  My mom will still talk about Louise's Raviolli's if I salt the conversation with the right words to jog her memory.

Living with relatives, attempting to get some assemblance back in to their lives, my grandmother began hallucinating.  Well, that's what the family believed so they had her committed to a mental institution, Gardner State Mental Institution in Gardner, Mass.  My mom was about 12 when her mom was locked up.

My mom's older sister Florence, she was locked up when she was 16, diagnosed with schizophrenia.  Mother and daughter were both institutionalized, leaving my mom and my Uncle Al to fend for themselves.

Flo pictured above, just before she was institutionalized.

No dad.  No mom.  No family.  No nothing.

I'm not sure of timing. 

My mom's oldest brother, Auggie, he loved my mom and often gave her advice.  Advice that my mom passed on to me and that I often didn't listen to, only later to have regrets. 

My Uncle Auggie would say to my mom, "words can cut like a knife.  Becareful of the words you use because you can never take them back."  Oh... wise words, words I wish I heeded before I got mad at my own sister a few weeks ago.   Emotions got the best of me.  I'm sorry, but these words could be too late.  Time will tell.

Auggie would have been an awesome uncle, if he survived.  He was in World War I but didn't make it.  He was the head of his platoon, in the US Army, honored to serve his country. 

My Grandmother, before she was institutionalized, didn't like the idea that Auggie was going off to war.  She had a preminition that he wasn't coming home so she hid his uniform.  My mom saw where she hid it.

It was time for Auggie to return to the Army, his leave was over.  He couldn't find his uniform.  He was freaking out and crying.  My mom, she loved her brother so much that she went and got his uniform for him, she didn't want to see him crying.

He left for the war, never to return.  He died in France.  He stepped on a landmine as he led his men through a mine field.  It was devastating for my mom, she always blamed herself for the death of her brother.   Of course it wasn't her fault, but for years she's held a bit of guilt for giving him his uniform.

When Auggie was killed, I think this is what pushed my Grandmother over the edge and to cross the line of sanity.  My mom, all she knew was that her mom was crazy.  Her sister was crazy.  Her brother was dead.  Her father was dead.  Her living brother Al, she wasn't a big fan.

My mom lived with relatives and when she was in high school she lived with a doctor and his family.  She took care of the doctors kids, she was the live in nanny.

Mom graduated from Lynn English High School in 1947.  She was great at accounting.  Her teacher thought she should become an accountant.  She didn't. 

My mom, she loved to dance.  At the Oceanview on Revere Beach every night, dancing, with a dance card filled with so many suitors.  My mom was stunning, beautiful and a fabulous dancer.  There was Mario, the short Italian guy that she fancied.  She believed she would marry him.  But, he went off to war and didn't stay in touch with my mom.

My mom, she wasn't a wall flower, my dad saw her and knew he had to be with Jo.  6 months later, they were married.  Mario came back.  Too late Mario. 

I'm grateful that my mom married a Polish man, I wouldn't want to go through life short.

My mom and dad had 5 kids.  I'm the 4th child, the youngest daughter. 

I wouldn't say any of us caught the crazy gene, it's more like acquiring it through poor nutrition.  My mom didn't learn about nutrition from her mom.  All the natural remedies that my grandmother brought over with her from Italy were lost.

My family in 1968, first time visiting my mom's mom in the mental institution. It totally freaked me out. Everything was painted battle ship gray, the TV's were behind chain link fence hanging off the ceiling.

Life happened. 

In a sense, I feel like I'm completing my mom's circle of life.  I'm learning about the natural remedies and nutrition, all the things my Gram would have taught my mom if she could. 

My mom's life is winding down.  She is a little crazy sometimes, but it's not genetic.  Poor nutrition, no exercise and a few hits on her head from falls have brought us to where we are today.

I've learned through my mom that it's never too late to take care of ourselves.  I wish I paid attention to her health sooner than I did so that my mom could have had a few REALLY great years.

But, it is what it is and all I can do is what I'm doing.

My mom's final curtain call will be one of grace and peace, one where she feels the love of family, something she lost when she was 6.  I am committed to my family, I love them all, especially my mom. 

She deserves to be loved. 

Uncle Al and my mom are the only 2 left now. 

Uncle Al is 83 and my mom is 80.  Uncle Al is in a nursing home with an Rx of Alzheimers.  I think he has the same thing as my mom because he hallucinates.  Uncle Al has a story too, a sad story that I'll save for the book that I'm currently editing.

Shell Shocked in my Own Home

It's been a few days since I have blogged. I haven't been able to sleep very well since the incident where the police woke me up in my bedroom shining a flash light in my eyes. I haven't been inspired to write either.

Usually I've got several post topics in my head, the past few days? I've got nothing.

Something about having my personal space violated at 2am is a bit unnerving. I love my mother, but not more than I love myself.

Dementia is a truly crazy illness on so many levels. It effects everyone in a family. The patient has good days and bad days. The good days are usually awesome. The bad days, well... she called the police and reported me missing as well as told them that there was a strange man in bed with her... need I say more about bad days?

My mother definitely has abandonment issues that go back to her childhood when her dad died at age 6 and her mom was committed to a mental institution at age 14. Her and her siblings lived with relatives and other strangers that were kind enough to take them in.

Now, in her final years the old wound is resurfacing. I know I need to help her with this and have been working out a hypnosis script to help her to overcome the fear of abandonment.

It would be fabulous if my mom would socialize more with people her own age. This would definitely help her to have a happier life. Currently, she depends on me for everything. She gets mad at me if I don't take her out shopping when she wants to go. Usually, it's when I'm in the middle of some messy job and cleaning up before I can drive her anywhere is not always easy.

We've got her signed up so that she can call the ride bus for Seniors in town. She needs to give them 2 days notice and they'll pick her up and drop her off at times that she designates for $1 dollar. She is resisting using the service, she keeps telling me "I don't feel good." "What if the day comes and I don't feel good?" I told her to cancel the ride, but to just get going using it now because I need to get a job.

Instead she tells me that she's happy staying home. It's not good for her to sit and watch TV all day long. Her only social interactions are with me. She locks herself up in her room because she claims the rest of the house downstairs is too cold. In summer, she uses the heater in her room. I tell her that I'll move her upstairs where it's warmer and she says, "No, I like this room where I am." My mom has no social skills... neither does my mother-in-law for that matter.

Elderly people with dementia are difficult to deal with because their illness is mental. Illusions and visions where they can't distinguish between fantasy and reality take over. There's no reasoning with the demented mind. One needs to be calm all the time, even when the demented person is verbally abusing the caregiver. This is very difficult to take, even more so when it's coming from your mom!

Dementia causes the person to become someone else that you don't recognize. The smallest annoyance to them can and does escalate into a huge problem. Logic is out the window and comes through the backdoor. It's twisted.

My feelings can be hurt every day if I let it happen. Some days, when I'm worn down from caregiving, my feelings do get hurt. The thing that seems to bother me the most is my mom's apparent lack of appreciation for what my husband and I are doing for her.

For example, one day she'll tell me that she loves the food that I'm bringing her. The next day, I could bring her the same thing and she tells me it "sucks" while the rest of my family is raving about how delicious the meal that I prepared tasted.

My mom likes to tear me down and often says mean things as a "joke" when others are around in order to build herself up. It's definitely a sign of insecurity. I'm not sure that she'll ever stop doing this to me, it's been going on for a very long time. My husband doesn't like it when she knocks me down. Obviously, I don't like it either.

So, what do I do?

I need to find options. Today I am meeting with the Director at the Outreach Program for Seniors in our town. We've got lots of elder housing facilities. I pray that we have enough money to put her in a nice place, not too far from home where I can visit her often and take her out like I do with Uncle Al.

My mom always told her kids that she doesn't want to be a burden. She is a burden right now for me but she doesn't see it as a burden. She believes she's fine. She believes that she can drive a car and wants a car to replace the one that she gave to my sister.

I've got a new personal goal in life, to keep myself as healthy as possible and eat only natural organic foods with no preservatives. There's hope for my siblings and me to avoid a demented mind if we make modifications to our eating habits and lifestyle.