As with every other day, our live-in help and I got my mom ready for her shower.
She kept eyeballing me as we got her ready, with a slight alarm in her big eyes. Her behaviour was so odd that I stopped moving and asked "Do you know who I am?"
She went quiet, seemed a little unsure of herself.
I asked again.
"No."
It's common for patients living with dementia to lose their short-term memory. At times, faces and names of people form a porridge of messed up memories. I knew of this but it was a strange phenomenon to be in front of someone who has known you for all your life and poof! That's gone, snatched by some evil memory stealer.
I was also taken aback. The jarring of it all. In that split instant I wondered, is this temporary or a permanent thing?
I didn't know how to respond so I became quiet. Not quite sure of my feelings then. We continued with our tasks. Each step of the way I sought her permission to do little things which she approved – washing her hair, cleaning between her toes, wiping her down. Each time, her eyes never left me. Felt like her brain was trying to solve a giant mystery of someone who seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite place.
That went on for a couple of days in a fog-like trance. When out of nowhere on the 3rd morning, she greeted me with a big smile as if to say "Oh you are here…".
I hadn't quite processed it all. There was sadness for sure. But nothing else that I could name.
The next time it happened, my psyche was far more ready than I had planned for. I greeted my mom in the morning. But instead of her usual nod or greeting, she was eyeing me suspiciously yet again. Ah-hah! I know this.
It was a Sunday and our live-in help has the day off on a regular basis. It would be just me and my mother. I asked her "Do you know who I am?"
This time, she shook her head. I asked, jokingly, "Am I your daughter?"
Head shake.
"Son?"
You'd never know. Same reply.
"Sister?" — no answer.
After going through a litany of options, we landed on "Helper". Turns out her son (one of my brothers) had ordered a part-time helper as her live-in had the day off. Well, that's the story that I made up and she agreed to. I did ask on the whereabouts to her daughter and she answered 'Australia'. Mostly true as I had spent 7 years working there before the borders opened.
I spent the whole day and next 4 laughing with her as the part-time helper. On the day she became aware of my identity, her first response was "When did you come back (from Australia)?"
The laughter that echoed from me…
One thing my mom gave me and my siblings is our sense of humour even against the worst odds. I'm glad that it came in handy multiple times.