Author Archives: daughter3

About daughter3

My mom has Alzheimer's disease. She's 91 and lives in a nursing home. She has three daughters. I'm her youngest.

Falling

I got a call from the Hebrew Home a couple of months ago. “Your mother fell today,” said her doctor. “Is she okay?” I asked. “Yes, she’s okay, but she has a cut on her forehead. There was a lot … Continue reading

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Three Husbands

Mom is sitting at her table across from Donald, and they’re smiling at each other. When she sees me, she beams. “Hi Donald,” I say, as I lean over to kiss my mom. “Is that his name?” she asks. “I’m … Continue reading

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An Alzheimer’s Thanksgiving

The Sunday before Thanksgiving, the weekly concert at Hebrew Home was held in the library instead of in the large, open concert hall where it’s usually held. The closed-off quarters of the library made for a more focused, even more … Continue reading

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Birthday Card

“I have the best mother in the whole world,” read my mom. She was reading the card I had given her for her birthday. She didn’t know it was her birthday — not the first time I told her, or the … Continue reading

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Courage

Kenneth was recently moved to another unit, so I took my mom to visit him. “Do you miss me? Do you know me? Are you okay? Do you like it here? Do they take you outside? Is the food good … Continue reading

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Music

My mom is sad. I arrive to find her lying on her bed, weeping. “I just want to die,” she says between sobs. “What is happening to me?” Kenneth is almost completely nonfunctional. He’s no real companion for her anymore. … Continue reading

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For Mom, what once was

As my mom moves ahead with Alzheimer’s, I find myself missing some of the earlier stages, when she still had some sense of who she was and some memory of her past life. Many of those days were incredibly painful, … Continue reading

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What My Mom’s Alzheimer’s Disease is Teaching Me about Life

Seven things I know today that I didn’t know before my mom got Alzheimer’s. Continue reading

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A Child

When I arrive for my weekly visit at the Hebrew Home, I can almost sneak up on my mom in the dining room because her gaze is transfixed on a baby. She is leaning over to caress the child, who is … Continue reading

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“What’s My Name?”

“This is my daughter,” my mom says to everyone we meet, as we walk the halls of the Hebrew Home. “Why am I so short and she’s so tall? She should be the mother,” she says, pointing to me, and … Continue reading

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