Posted 7/1/19
Growing up an Applegate, we were pretty tight with the money. It wasn’t that we were poor or my folks didn’t work hard. We were fairly middle class-ish and dad worked his rear off at the post office to support his family while mom stayed home with us (until later when she worked here and there as it would fit her expectations.). One of the ways this frugality manifested itself is in the forced treks to go to garage sales. While I appreciate a good garage sale these days, it wasn’t the case when I was a kid other than getting an occasional toy. But, as usual, mom and dad get much more smartererer the older I live and garage sales are a great example of this. Why I brought this up will be made clear…so read on, fellow digital cornie!
Grief in dementia is a terrible thing…terrible. In many illnesses, one can process the condition, study it and work through it a little as you go. In dementia, you face two losses…you lose the old person and, eventually, they succumb to the disease and you lose the “new” one too. While everyone grieves differently and there is no right or wrong way, the pattern of grief arguably seems to follow a well-recognized pattern. In light of these double griefs, I submit to you a pithy summary of the 5 stages of grief and the same 5 stages, except the garage sale version:
- Denial– When you first suffer a loss or a trauma, the tendency is to deny it happened. You expect that the ill or deceased loved one will soon just waltz through the door and hug you and resume your daily schedule. Boy are you going to “let them have it” for making you think they were in danger!
- Anger– When you finally shake off the denial and realize that the person is very ill or even gone, anger can take hold. It could manifest itself as anger toward the loved one, toward God, or just a bird shot shotgun blast of anger at everything that moves. “How could this happen?” Grrrr!!!!!
- Bargaining– Bargaining can be begging God to heal your loved one or to even bring them back. Promises are made, tears are shed followed up by a fake, but strong looking resolve to hold up your end of the bargain. The “what if’s” start flooding in like somehow you can turn back time and fix the mistakes you made.
- Depression-Once the reality has struck and you no longer think you can just fix this situation, but have to try to move on, a deep depression can set in. You realize that things cannot/will not/should not ever be the same again, and it is pointless to try. We are sad that they are gone and are sad at how we treated others through the trial. Sad here, sad there, sad everywhere.
- Acceptance– This one may not come quickly, and for some it may not come at all. Accepting the reality of what is happening or has happened is not the same as “moving on” or “forgetting”, but it does afford the grieving person with a new normal that he or she can work within. I would like to tell you that things then become fine forever, but that is not how we were wired. One of the beauties of a relationship is also a downfall…loving deeply and losing hurts and is always waiting to rear its ugly head later. Guilt can also factor in intermittently in the acceptance phase as we feel guilty for accepting the situation and sometimes the nifty guilt wheel starts spinning again from the beginning.
Grief, Garage Sale Version
This is the process I went through when mom would drag me all over tarnation from garage sale to garage sale as a kid:
- Denial— “No thanks, Mom. I’d like to skip the garage sales this week! I will just stay here and watch Saturday Morning cartoons instead! Just grab a sample of my clothes to hold up against the ones at the sale to see if they will fit.” ……then….. “Hey Dad, come in here and watch some Wil E Coyote and Roadrunner with me!!” (Loud, grumbling, guttural sounds from Dad– who got 3 hours sleep– including the threat to call fire down from heaven if I don’t stop waking him up)…then shortly…(Shuffling sounds and Dad emerges with hair in disarray)… “OK…(wheeze, hack)… let me get a black coffee”…
- Anger— Mom-“Nice try, son! You are going to garage sales with me. Don’t make me mad on this one…there is no other option…you are going!” Me— “Ahhhhh! It looks like a great episode! Plus I don’t want to miss Richie Rich or Justice League! I am NOT going!”
- Bargaining– (Mom grabs a belt, a hot wheels track or whatever ominous instrument of her wrath she can find) “Mark Allen Applegate, don’t you try that attitude on me!!” Me, seeing said objects of wrath and knowing her ability to use such: ” Awwwwww. Can I go just go next week? The weather looks better next week. Grandpa said so!”
- Depression — (Me loading into the car, forlorn and wishing they had already invented a small telephone with Angry Birds on it that I could take for games or texting my friends, but satisfied with my Stomper and a couple Hot Wheels for fun in a pinch). “Can we get back before cartoons are over?”-said with a genuine whimper.
- Acceptance– (Ten hours later, mom worn out from bringing her pain-in-the butt gradeschooler with her… and me with several new toys and books but very few new clothes) “Well, it wasn’t as good as cartoons, but it wasn’t bad! Can we grab a Pat’s Pizza for lunch??”
Note, again: An insidious part of dementia is the two deaths/double griefs of the illness: the death of the old person–slowly but surely in many cases– and then the death of the “new” person. It is a crushingly hard situation for families and friends and one that previous grief “experience” may not prepare them for. I feel grief, and I feel guilty for grieving someone who is right there with me as if she wasn’t. I hug the new mom and want it to carry on back to the old mom too…then lament the thought. I so wish mom was better. I also very much wish she was “worse” so she could just hurry up go to heaven where there is NO ALZHEIMER’s….then I see her profound happiness and grieve that I thought that again. A cure would be ideal!!
Well, fast-forward from Carter all the way to Trump and now I drag my kids to sales and thrift shops too. I drive them around in my junky cars hoping to save enough to take them on fun trips with what I save. First-grieving mom is a ever-present mind lurker and just knowing second-grieving time will join in the fun someday too makes me give pause and be thankful for all of the lessons I was taught as a kid. Oh for the days when the biggest thing I had to grieve is missing Smurfs on a Saturday morning…
#EndALZ
Update: Mom had another great weekend. She is settled in a gradual decline with a beautiful smile on her face and a hug for every visit. I am so thankful that things are better than they were not 6 months ago in her symptoms. Now all that is left is the wait. I guarantee she would trade this mess for more garage sales with pain-in-the-butt kids like me now. 🙁