I was mulling over the Caregiver's Bill of Rights on Alzheimer's Los Angeles and would like to share one more right which has been pivotal for me: I have the right to see the absurd humor in the bizarre behaviors and speech this disease causes.
Early in my days of caregiving I would feel offended or wounded by some of the things my mother would say to me. There was a part of me that believed some of those things. Things like "you're a terrible daughter, the worst in the world" or "I was such a good mother and this is how you treat me". Actually, there is still a part of me that buys into some of the hurtful things. Yep, it's a process not feeling guilty all the time; however, I've learned that laughing at the absurdity instead of crying is a far healthier choice for me.
One day she was angry because I was "abandoning" her to go to work and called me a daughter of a bitch as I was leaving the room. "Wait a minute," I said. "If I'm the daughter of a bitch...". "Yeah, I know, then I'm the bitch!" she shot back. I began to laugh and then she did too. I could have just as easily cried because never in my life had I heard that language from her. That was so contrary to the strict etiquette and manners my mother raised me with, that it was truly seeing another person. Witnessing the complete, but slow annihilation of your loved one's personality and traits is the most painful aspect of this callous disease, but it can make for some crazy laughs as well.
Another evening she was irritated I wouldn't give her a third piece of chocolate cake at eleven o'clock at night and demanded I leave her bedroom. She didn't want to see me ever again! As I was leaving she yelled after me, "come back here. First give me a kiss and then go to hell!". I obeyed and then I laughed for five minutes before I could share with Jerod our new house rule.
This Christmas I was putting ornaments on her bedroom chandelier and asked her if she liked them. Her reply, "they look like your father's balls". Again, such a foreign speech coming out of my repressed, rigid, well raised 1950s latina catholic mother that I nearly fell off the step stool. "I like saying bad things" she said with a certain look on her face and then proceeded to say a string of profanities. I gasped in mock horror and she continued to shout out dirty words in between peals of laughter.
So much of my mother is gone, but I must admit I find some of my new mom's antics hilarious in a black comedy sort of way so instead of cringing or apologizing for her behavior I've decided to have fun with her. As Billy Joel put it: "I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints."
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