Tales from the Land of the Demented
Moving is a liberating bitch. You lose so much, you gain a lot. After 16 years in the USA, in July we moved our family back to Australia, partly to spend time with our parents, three of whom suffer from dementia and Alzheimer’s. During Blogher’s month of blogging, I’m going to post every day on the theme, “What I’ve Lost, What I’ve Gained, ” a light-hearted account of relocating a family with 9 year old twins.
My mother cuts through the water without a splash. She manages about 200 metres of evenly-paced freestyle before she stops and grins at me, panting behind her. Even in her demented state, she can out-swim her daughter. It still gives her pleasure.
These days, swimming is the only thing she does smoothly and without hesitation.
Getting to the pool took 90 minutes of negotiation. She didn’t want to swim so she took off her bathers before we left, after it had taken 30 minutes to convince her to put them on. Her rings came on and off, as did her hearing aids and her “ear things” (her earrings). Off and on, off and on.
One watch was taken off, another was put on. Neither mattered really. It’s been ages since she could tell the time.
After getting Mum in the car, I tell her to stay put for a sec. I dash back into her house to grab her swimmers, which I hide inside her hat, something she tells me she’s never used before.
My mum: In the water, she's Esther Williams
As we head up the headland toward the beach, we note the trees in bloom. She can’t remember any of their names, so I point out the oleander, the jacarandas with their purple finger gloves and some bougainvillea that someone has hacked back.
When the beach comes into sight, she smiles and asks me where her bathers are.
“In the car,” I say with a smile.
When she retired from work about five years ago, she often swam 2 kms a day. Now, she’s forgotten she loves to swim. Today the Alzheimer’s specialist told me she only had less than a year left in her own home. “It’s a terminal disease,” she reminded us. Isn’t life?
In the pool, she was my old mum, the old Jan, but without the prickly bits. Over a post-swim lunch, she looks snappy and happy wearing a “head thing.” That’s a hat for those of you who don’t live in the land of demented.
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About the Author: Julie Power is a writer and editor with experience in both the United States and Australia. After living in the United States for 16 years, she recently returned to live in Sydney with her husband and twin boys (9 years old).
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