We just returned home from a weekend trip away with the in-laws. This would be where I would love to be able to say that it is the first of many, but it won't be. It was probably the first and last.
This wasn't something we did often prior to the dementia diagnosis with my mother-in-law. Her and I get along great while we are together, but not well enough to enjoy it. She's never really appreciated me being married to her first born and I've never appreciated her desire to be over controlling and use guilt in her son's life. I just call it fair and go on.
Now that her dementia is diagnosed and getting worse, it's even more difficult to spend time with her. I am not saying that in a hateful or spiteful way. Even my father-in-law gets frustrated. This weekend was just a sampling of what life must be like for him daily and my heart aches for him.
Her obsessing began early in the week with multiple phone calls and emails asking when we would be leaving. With a crazy schedule, we were only able to guess and hope to stick to it.
She was insistent that we meet and eat at a favorite chicken place in Springfield. Admittedly, it was difficult to go with the flow and let her call the shots. With all the anxiety of the prep behind us, we met up at the restaurant. It is a fried chicken place, a place where you go for down home comfort food and gobs of fried foods. As was stated, "it's one of my favorite places to eat and we always stop there." Not one of my favorite places, but who I am to keep someone from enjoying their favorite.
I noticed several times walking into the restaurant that my father-in-law spends a lot of time physically guiding her. She seems to get lost if not. After they spent time looking at the menu and asking what was good, I realized the claim of it being their favorite place to eat was far from true. Needless to say, they both ordered chef salads....at a chicken place!
Onto Branson we went. We spent the evening relaxing or trying to. She spent the evening asking her husband for permission to make phone calls and constantly trying to feed us. Even though there were only four of us, she had baked cupcakes, muffins, two kinds of cookies, and brought several kinds of prepacked cookies.
The next day, I realized how her once professional style dress had long since slipped away. She wore a pink shirt, red high-water pants, bright pink shoes and socks that were an inch shorter than her pants. To top that off, she transferred all items from her purse to a fanny pack. She wore the fanny pack, not around her waist, but over her shoulder like a purse.
Through our day of shopping, she continuously stated that she wanted everyone to have fun and she didn't want to "bring anyone down." At times, she acted like a child who had been beaten down and made to feel like they were the root cause of everything wrong in life. She hasn't been treated that way, so it was difficult to hear this all day.
We spent a little time that afternoon and evening back in our condo, relaxing. It was a repeat pattern of her asking for permission to do everything and trying to feed us. I had the added fun of hearing her make not-so-nice comments about me when my husband was sleeping or walking the dogs.
We tried to find an activity or show to go to that would be enjoyable for each of us. Each suggestion was met by a quick, "I've already done that." During a drive through town and talking more about all the shows, we figured out that she really hadn't done all of the things she thought she had.
By Sunday, I think I was probably ready to go home more than anyone. I felt like I needed to get away from there to get a break from my weekend. She wore me out!
I hate feeling like that, but that was the truth. I thought the best thing to do was to provide a way for my husband to spend time with his parents. But wow, it's a lot of work trying to spend time with them. From the demands to the quirky behavior, it wasn't much rest for either of us. Definitely the last time for us for a long time anyway.
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