The Inevitable (June 18, 2019)

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I know the signs. I remember them vividly. It starts with little things: adding an extra letter in a word, calling someone by the wrong name, asking simple and unnecessary questions. Most people wouldn’t see these things as a problem. They will just simply pause for a second and then move on, shaking their head, blaming it on a long day. But not me. For me, all of these things are signs. Signs that it’s coming; the inevitable is coming and I’m not ready.
Next, the bigger, more obvious things come: speaking of someone who is long gone as if they were still around, asking questions over and over again, getting lost in the middle of somewhere she’s been everyday. Sure, it could just be her light-hearted personality joking that there is a panda in the front yard, or it could be something else.
Maybe I’m paranoid. Maybe it’s not fair of me to assume the worst when everyone else brushes it off. But I can’t help it. You can’t unsee a person you love growing to forget everything – even their own granddaughter. I didn’t see the signs with Kiki. I brushed it off as a long day. When she lost her keys, when she wrote “Kikiki”, even when she forgot how to stop a car and we crashed, I didn’t see it. I was too young, too naive. But looking back I can recognize it. And I see it now.
I see the confused looks. I see her trying to process simple information and it going right over her head. I hear her calling me “Lisa” and not catching herself. I see the increased anger and frustration. I’ve seen it for a while. I’ve convinced myself that I’m looking for it, hoping to catch it before it’s too late – not that there’s anything I could do. I’ve convinced myself that it is all in my head and that it’s just her carefree side coming out. But I’m losing my conviction. I’m losing my hope that it will skip over her; that it will take me, not her.
I want to know. I know she doesn’t, but I want to. I want to know if I only have five years left with her. I want to know if I should soak up every second; if I should ask her questions. It shouldn’t make a difference, I suppose. A test result shouldn’t decide how nice or attentive I am with my mom, but I’m terrified that I’m taking these years for granted. I’m terrified that by the time I have a child, I won’t have a mother to answer my questions. I’m terrified that I will be alone. I see how Matti is with Kiki, and although it’s terrible of me to say this, I don’t want to be the sole person taking care of my mom. Matti shuts down. She can’t even look at Kiki, it’s just too painful. What am I going to do if mom suffers the same fate?
Why am I the only one seeing the signs?
Why am I the only one worried that Alzheimer’s will strip us of our family?
Why did this have to happen to us?
Where is my supposed optimism when I need it?
When will the inevitable finally catch up?

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