Then new normal isn't so bad

This morning mom picked up my cell phone from the dining room table and turned it over in her hand. What’s this?

It’s hard to tell how much memory she has of anything current but one thing is certain, most advantages of modern technology are lost on her. Even before being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in 2010, I recall trying to teach her to use the computer to send email to her friends and family or to even to play solitaire. She almost seemed afraid of it. She did manage to use a flip style cell phone for a few years but today my iPhone 5 was a foreign object.

As are many common things like the coffee maker and the hair dryer. Putting on her seat belt in the car used to be automatic but now she doesn’t recognize its significance.

She recognizes things like a kind touch, a soothing voice, the comfort of logs burning in the fireplace, and is consistently delighted when I offer to make her a hot fudge sundae. I have come to learn there are things that matter, and things that don’t.

About a year ago I noticed that her prosthetic breast, the one that replaced her actual left breast lost to cancer in 1979, was ending up in her pocket by the end of the day. It was then I realized her skin had become so loose that having the fake boob bouncing around in her bra was probably irritating. The bra straps would leave red marks on her skin. So I liberated her. Mom was never big breasted to begin with, and wears layers of clothes even in the summer so the missing bump has hardly been an issue.

She has had three sets of hearing aids. None seemed to help a great deal. The first pair disappeared in what I fear was a malicious act of defiance to rid herself of the annoying buzzing noise in her ears. The audiologist swore the latest set would be more comfortable and improve her hearing without the irritating noise but he was wrong. They sit in the drawer unused and we have to repeat ourselves often in a loud voice and when she finally understands she laughs and says, Well I think I heard you now!

The latest thing to go was her dentures. A few months ago it seemed like she simply forgot how they worked. I watched her fiddle with them from just outside the bathroom door. At first she would turn them this way and that and ultimately get them in, then chomp her teeth together to get a tight fit. Then it became more troublesome and she couldn’t seem to get them beyond her tongue. She would gag and choke. I tried to help her but she wasn’t having it. So the dentures have been retired with the prosthetic boob and hearing aids.

We speak at her directly in a loud clear voice. We cut her food into digestible bits, and when I dress her for the day her slightly asymmetric appearance is a blur.

I’m not a perfect caregiver. There are certainly times I have become impatient especially when the change in my mother involves forsaking things we perceive to be normal like having two breasts and a full set of teeth. But the new normal is really whatever mom is comfortable with so long as she is otherwise healthy and happy. So if my iPhone is a paperweight, so be it.