A Strange Peace

“I hope you have a Plan B. I’m not staying here!” my stepdad said. I’d never heard him so angry before. After Mom developed Alzheimer’s, we helped them find an assisted-living apartment near us. Her confusion was progressing, and in the middle of the night, she talked about wanting to “go home” to the house she remembered from thirty years earlier. My literal-minded stepdad thought they should move out.

I felt like a failure. I’d tried so hard to care for them both. Every step was a battle. The doctors advised socialization, but unless I coaxed Mom down the hall to an activity, she refused to leave the apartment. The experts recommended exercise and Mom refused to go for walks. We upped the level of care and she sent away the staff that came to assist her.

I called the palliative care nurse. She reassured me, then said. “Even when you’re doing everything right, Alzheimer’s won’t go away. And no matter how gentle you are with your stepdad, you can’t make him happy about the changes they’ve had to face.”

That truth brought a strange peace. Mom’s disease wouldn’t disappear this side of heaven. But by showing patience and persistence to both my mom and stepdad, I could help light their way until then.