Another cookie, please!

Have you ever fallen?

I don’t mean a stumble, you know, one of those quirky missteps where you quickly managed to compose yourself, hoping no one was looking?  Hell no, I am talking about a full-blown, body-twisting, head-banging header here.  You haven’t?   

Well I have, and it was a doozy!

Allow me to take you back to around almost two weeks before Christmas in 2003.  As with most people during the holiday season, the typical seasonal madness had taken over my sensibilities which were already challenged from taking care of my mother who had Alzheimer’s and was residing with us at that time. For almost one year, her presence had greatly impacted life around us, she was in rare form those first months of living with us.  Constant escapes from the house and endless bouts of “sundowning”, night after night, allowed me little sleep. On top of it all, my work schedule had been drastically modified to allow for mom’s attendance at a local day care facility.

Six days each week involved a 100 mile round-trip rushing to and from the office.  My return trip home would often send me into a state of frenzy if I encountered heavy traffic; the facility my mother was in mandated a prompt 4:30 pick-up and had a strict rule, successive caregiver-tardiness would result in the dismissal of a given senior citizen from its program.  So, drive like the wind did I, not taking any chances of losing the little respite that I had been fortunate to find.  That was the exact scene on that fateful afternoon.

I share with you my diary entry from that fateful day.

Friday, December 12th, 2003

Secured mother from day care.  Stopped at supermarket, mother refused to get out of car.

Had to purchase just a few items so I left said parent sitting in back seat.

Ran, like hell, into market, grabbing items from shelf like a lunatic. Fast checkout, then out the door towards my car where I see mother high-tailing it across the parking lot at a fairly respectable rate of speed.

Run after parent, yelling at her to stop.  Parent gives me “the thumb”.  Either she couldn’t get her middle finger up or, for some reason, she thought waving her thumb would be much more insulting.

Catch up with mother, grab her by the arm.  Get cursed at. Person driving out of parking lot stops and gives me a dirty look.

I return dirty look and curse back at passer-by, under my breath. Get mother back into car, hook her into the seat belt.

Mother un-hooks seat-belt and tries opening door. I secure seat-belt, again, and hit the child-lock (which I had earlier neglected to do) to prevent her further escape.

Ride home proceeds without incident except for a good deal of parental cursing from the back seat.  Did I share that mumsy could cuss like a truck driver?  

Pull up the driveway, mother asks “where are we?” I tell her that we’re home, she insists “that’s a filthy lie, no we’re not!” Ignore, ignore, ignore.

Park and remove mother from the car.  Help her into the house. As we go in, she comments on the Christmas decorations.  The same comments she made on the way out the door earlier that day.

Sit her down in the kitchen with coffee and cookies.  Head back outside to gather packages but as I hit the top inside step, I become airborne.

Darkness.  For a few minutes.

Through my foggy head, I hear muffled yelling, dog growling.   Head and ankle hurting and sense a horrible heavy feeling on my chest.  Awake to Tonka, our 150+ lb. Rottie-Lab, lying across my chest as my daughter yells at him to move.

He won’t allow her anywhere near me, keeps growling.  Daughter keeps yelling.  My head is almost implanted in our front door (leaving a sizeable dent) and my left leg is, well, somewhere.  Just cannot feel it at that moment. Ankle is throbbing like a champ so I know leg is still connected to my body.

There, in the midst of all the commotion, a voice can be heard at the top of the stairs, causing even the dog to look up. A shrill voice not expressing concern or even offering help.  Not at all. Oblivious to her daughter lying in a puddle of chaos at the bottom of the stairs, my mother stood on the upper landing, yelling, in her typical, demanding form, constantly repeating “will someone get me another cookie, please?”

Fortunately, for her, I lacked the ability to climb up those steps and address her demands, face-to-face; a mild concussion and sprained ankle prevented me from carrying out any action of revenge.  When I managed to get back upstairs, I bit my lip and gave mother another cookie.  

That incident ended up becoming the inspiration for my book, and this website, Another cookie, please!

 From the Writer’s Workshop…Tell us about the worst accident you ever had.

One more older post from several years ago.  There was no need to go back into my memory banks for any other falling incidents as this one took the proverbial cake!  Dealing with someone suffering with Alzheimer’s/Dementia has mixed moments of sadness and humor.  Aside from any personal discomfort involved, this one was indeed laughable but the sad part was my late mothers inability to focus on anything but her wish for more cookies.