It took a long time for me to accept that my mother needed help. Deep down, I was waiting for her to tell me. It was frightening to realize that she never would. With very small steps, I began a journey that became taking care of Mama.
About twelve years ago, when she was in her early eighties, I noticed that her grasp on minor details like clearing out old magazines and newspapers began to loosen. I didn't take it seriously enough. "Just busy", I thought. Later, paying bills on time went by the wayside. I noticed that, too, thinking "momentary lapse". I would hear her on the phone cheerily making friends with a nice lady from the bank, explaining how busy she had been, and promising again to mail the check right away. Finally, the whole process of food preparation got the best of her - shopping, cooking, cleaning up, and eating good meals became too much to manage. Still, I continued to see her as the capable, independent person she had been.
When awareness settled in, my energy went entirely in the wrong direction. I pleaded with her to be more responsible, thinking it was just a matter of willpower - "You have to pay your bills on time! The bank will take away your credit card!" "Please eat more than crackers and cheese! You're not getting enough nutrition. Nine-thirty is too late to have dinner!" Reasoning and cajoling had no effect.
I was scared, peering into an unfamiliar landscape of medical care, supplies, insurance, financial management, and family responsibility.
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