Waking Up

Over the weekend, my mom slowly started emerging from her month-long fog. When I called on Sunday, after a few minutes of chatting with dad and hearing that she ate well all weekend, he asked if I wanted to talk with mom. Surprised, I said, "Sure!"

Mom got on the phone and her voice had energy that I hadn't heard in a month. She sounded like herself and she actually carried on a conversation that made sense for for than a minute. She said she felt great, which was really encouraging.

After several minutes, dad took back the phone. "Mom sounded great," I said.

"Dont kid yourself," he said. "That took all her energy."

I felt a little struck down by his pessimism. After all, no matter what the situation is, when you have a good day, you have a good day. I was thinking to myself that it would be nice if he could just say, "Yes, she had a good day, and I'm glad."

When I called on Monday, he gave me the run down of what she'd eaten,how much time she'd spent up and about and I said, cautiously, "It sounds like she's moving around and eating incrementally more every day now."

He didn't say much in response, but I noted that at least it wasn't a negative comment. As my sister said, "From dad, that's as good as a positive response."

Mom doesn't remember much from the past couple of months. She doesn't remember my visits, and she didn't even remember her trip to Colorado over the holidays until my sister reminded her of some of the things they did.

This morning, she said she was tired from her "big day" yesterday, but I can hear in her voice that she's really trying to pull herself out, which is great, because I was feeling like dad had lost his enthusiasm for encouraging her.

No matter the outcome, I want him to be able to think back and know that he did everything he could for her. I don't want his memories of this time in her life to be full of lost hope, shortened patience and frustration. I don't know how to explain that to him, though.