the part of you that wants to sleep

When I called Mom's room at noon, I wasn't surprised that she was still in bed but I was surprised that none of the care aids had been in to get her up for lunch (or, in her case, the first meal of the day). Or at least that's what she said. If that's to be believed, given her current memory. But I said I'd call her back in 15 minutes, thinking that a care person would come in by then.

I was wrong.

I told her, "Mom, press the button on the thing around your neck." Sometimes I don't recall the name "pendant." It's no piece of jewelry, that I can tell you for sure.

Well, today she was able to press it and while it was blinking we had at least lots of time to talk. You know that having conversations with somebody with dementia can be challenging. 

"I'm tired," said she.

"I know," said I. 

"I just want to go back to sleep," said she.  

"Well, you can go back to sleep after lunch. It's not a very busy day. I don't have anything scheduled for you," said I. I know to say this, to promise her she can go back to sleep, which she can. I'd rather she do an activity, or sit outside in the sun, but I know to promise her the thing that will give her comfort. The thing she wants to hear. Then something surprising happened.

"I'm afraid," said she.  Now I start to think maybe I should have the facility psychiatrist come in and talk with her because she's talking about emotions! And she's in touch with them. This can be a good beginning.

"Afraid of what, Mom?"

"I just want to sleep." This is not such a stupid statement. This is a moment of self-awareness. For a person with dementia to be so self aware and to be able to share that, to bring me in to this thinking, is a moment I'm cherishing.  "I'm afraid that I"m going to be like this."

"Like what, Mom?"

"To be like this, and I'm not going to be more active." Suddenly we are in another zone of consciousness.  This word "active" is not a word I've heard her say in a long very long time.

"You me to be more active, and do things? Like what, Mom?" Am I pushing too much? Too fast? How far can I take this? Will I get another chance to have this conversation again?

She doesn't answer. The pendant is still blinking and the care person has not come in. I know that lunch will be over soon but I want this conversation to continue.

"So part of you wants to sleep and part of you wants to be active. Which one would you like to have right now?"

"I want to be active but the one that wants to sleep is stronger."

It is strong. And it's her biology at this moment. And while this moment is intimate, I think that after lunch the part of her that wants to sleep will win.

She may not remember this conversation but it made my day.

 

Today Is Not That Day

If you don't know what a rollator is, you are either not old enough yet or you're probably not a caretaker. I fit into the latter group. Those who are also caretakers understand just what a challenge it is.  In my case, we do it by phone. We live 300 miles apart.

 

I think I've got it down to a science now, even though all science pays big respect to the notion of randomness. And there are lots of things that even science cannot predict.

At least I know to phone my mom between noon and 12:30 every day- sometimes even in the middle of a doctor's appointment - because that's when she's waking up. Not from her nap but from her night's sleep. Getting her up and to eat is a delicate maneuver.

"Why is she sleeping so much?" people ask. The easy answer is "That's her disease." But I"m not sure really what disease she has, other than one symptom is she sleeps an awful lot. Whatever disease she has, this is what it does.

I'm not sure what disease she has because the doctors say it's one thing but none of us believe, even 4 years later, that that's what she really has.  Like Alzheimer's.  They don't really know if you have it until you die and they look at your brain and even the they don't really know because many people with a so-called "Alzheimer's Brain" are perfectly fine. But she does have a disease.

The other phone call is, on most days, between 3:30 and 4pm and that call also is a wake-up call, after she has gone back to sleep after lunch. This call is to get her to get up, stand up, walk down the hall.

"I'm comfortable here in bed," she says. "Why can't I just stay here under the covers?"

Then I have some sort of answer. I've been practicing this answer for a long time. "Well, you need to stand up straight, it's better for your back"

"I'm tired." I've practiced this too. "Then you need to walk some and get your blood circulating and get some oxygen to your brain." 

"But you told me I could sleep until dinner."

"No, Mom, I didn't. Somebody else might have said that but I didn't.  I said, "I'll phone you between three thirty and four and you'll take a walk and you said "okay."" They tell us to go along with people who don't remember things like that. I've found that telling her somebody else may have promised her that she could stay in bed until dinner works.

And back and forth we go.  Doing this for close to a year now, I know to say "Take the walk and then you can go back to sleep until dinner."  The promise of being able to go back to sleep is often enough to get her willing to walk down the hall and back.

Today we had version B of this. As she was getting up and out of bed and reaching for her rollator, she said, "I'd rather be dead than get up and walk down the hall." She wasn't kidding, either. We don't take this lightly. I know life is difficult for her.Wanting to live is difficult for her. But this is no time to focus on this truth.

"Well, Mom, I don't think today's going to be that day." She doesn't bite back.

 "Are you ready? Okay, let's go!" 
 
I've gotten out of that one, for now.

Presidential Primaries Among the Amyloid Plaques and Tangles of Alzheimer's

 

In the tumult and the excitement of the decades of the '60s and the '70's, my dad insisted that I go to college, and ranted and raved if I indicated any level of disinterest or interest in attending a college that wasn't on his list. Although I would be the first child, and daughter, to attend college, the word "feminism" was never spoken in our home. I was expected to attend college but, ironically, the notion of women's rights was taboo.

My mom knew when to keep quiet so as not to raise her husband's hackles, and quiet she continued to keep for years when he had his temper tantrums -- even for years after he, the self-appointed chief of our family's Thought Police, walked out. It took another 45 years after Dad left home for my parents to be officially divorced, allowing Mom to finally sell the family home and discard as much of the old (emotional as well as physically moldy) baggage as possible, and move into the present. The hallelujah celebration was muted, however. Just a few months earlier, signs of Alzheimer's had appeared. Mom now finally free from one form of oppression, another toxic and unknown form took its place. I wondered about lots of things.

Among all the millions of little details of moving an elderly parent from one home to another, and one year later to yet another, is the change of address for the Bureau of Motor Vehicles. And in that process is yet another question:

If you are a registered voter in PA and are changing your drivers license or photo ID address, would you like us to notify your county voter registration office of this change? Yes or No?

YES! Sometime later, she received her official new voter registration card, which I put in a safe place.

In a political vacuum, Mom and I would talk about whether she was registered as a Republican or as a Democrat. The ghost of the conversation was always about what party her ex-husband, my father, chief of the now former Thought Police, thought was best. Pennsylvania had a long history of being a Republican state. Meanwhile, her memory and cognitive functioning were in declinem as was her ease with walking.

And then came Hillary.

Primary after primary I heard my mom talk about Hillary. Mom wasn't interested in watching the debates on TV. If the content of the debates was lacking in substance or difficult to follow an argument or a position, the brain disease of Alzheimer's made it even more impossible for her to follow the candidates. No matter. My mom knew whom she wanted to vote for. Hillary. She also knew whom she hated. Trump.

"I want to throw things at the TV when I see him."

The Pennsylvania primary was months off but meanwhile we would just have to figure out how to get her to the polls. The senior community would be running buses to the polling site. My biggest fear was that I would determine she had registered as a Republican and would be unable to vote for Hillary in the primaries. When I had time one day, I checked that out... Nope, Democrat. My other fear was that when she got into the voting booth, she would forget whom she wanted to vote for, or wouldn't be able to figure out how to actually vote. Or maybe she just wouldn't want to get up and out of bed on that day.

The Pennsylvania primary was one of the last. THIS POST WAS ORIGINALLY POSTED on youreadermejane.com The afternoon before the primary, I phoned her to check in. "Hi, Mom."

In the most casual voice, she answered: "I'm sitting on the floor. I just fell. I used my cane to pull the phone toward me. My legs are off to one side. "

Okay, I remind myself to not panic. Among all the other thoughts encircling what remained of my brain was: Had she broken a bone? Had she fractured the hip that had been replaced years earlier? Did I need to figure out how to get her to the hospital for evaluation and x-rays?

"Mom, I'm going to call the front desk but they might want you to go to the hospital for x-rays. Would you be willing to go?"

"I'd rather not."

I phoned the front desk, who got security there right away and a nurse from the clinic to her apartment to assist. The nurse determined that it was most likely a groin pull. That was a relief! Still, the nurse asked me to make a judgement call on whether to get her to the hospital for x-rays, just to be certain. I hate making judgement calls like that. Just to be certain.

The rest of the evening, her aid made a special trip in offer assistance, as did my mom's sister, with ice, food, anti-inflammatories, over-the-counter painkillers, and love and comfort. Mom's sister brought the supplies of a democracy: a paper sample ballot for a serious training session. She had my mother practice picking the candidates of her choice. Also of concern was now getting my mom to the bus to the polls the next day. Mom already was walking slower than a sloth even with the assistance of her walker and making more and more stops along the way to catch her breath. How would she ever make it to the Main Building where the bus was picking everybody up?

The following day, my mom's aid showed up, got Mom dressed, and fed, iced her knees, groin area, and hip area, applied Voltaren Gel, and had her take more over-the-counter painkillers and anti-inflammatories. She stayed a little longer, long enough to get my mom into her car and drive her to where the bus would pick her up for the 4pm run to the polls.

At 3:35 I phoned my mom. "I'm sitting outside. The breeze is blowing and it's lovely here. I'd rather be here than inside." So far so good. Her sister would be along shortly and the two would take the bus ride together to the polls. Mom was relaxed and calm. I was not. "This is so exciting, Mom!"

"What's the big deal" my mom asked. "I've voted before."

Later that night I phoned my mom.

Through all the amyloid plaques and the tangles of the Alzheimer's brain, through the loss of memory and what they call cognitive functioning, through her depression and her desires to stop living, feminism - and Mom's voice - had finally broken through. Mom had voted for Hillary.

In the aftermath, I asked her what she liked about Hillary. Said she, after she'd had some rest, "She's a woman. I like the fact that's she's married to a president. I like her policies. Liberal woman. Aggressive. Conservative. I think she'll do what's good for women. Good for the country. Her husband was a good man and they can talk it over. I voted for a Republican candidate once but I can't remember who." 

Then she answered the question that hung in the air, which settled this question, "I wouldn't have voted for a woman if I didn't like her policies."

Nice going, Mom!

Haiku: The Calendar, our Blessing

I call it a weekly ritual, but it's not really.  Really, mom and I do it whenever we can. Ideally, it's every week but sometimes it's every two weeks. And sometimes it's whenever I can, whenever other things haven't intervened to bump this one down the priority list.

It was exceptional when we did it on the first day of January of the new year. Off the wall came the one calendar, and up onto the wall went another. Something we all do, but for an elderly parent who has dementia and isn't sure what day of the week it is, marking a new year carries heft.

My preference is to do the calendar each Sunday. It's the lightest day of the week, and prepares her for the coming week. She finds her pen and marks a big X on the day that just passed. 

It's always interesting to see what she's willing to do if we do the calendar at, say, 9pm and there are only three hours left to that day. She is not willing to X that day.

"I'll just leave it." 

I see that as a good sign. There is still time in that day, time to be lived. "Okay, Mom. That's fine."  In fact, that's great.

The ritual usually begins with "What day is today?" and I'm not willing to tell her. I want her to figure it out. 

"Well, Mom, yesterday was your doctor appointment. What day of the week is your doctor's appointment?" I want her to think this through. I want her little nerve endings to fire away and connect. I'll supply the safety net when the memory fails, which it is inclined to do.

"What day is today?" It could be overwhelming. More than 1, less than 30. Last night when we did the calendar, I suggested she try to find my birthday. She found it, and was surprised when I told her that my birthday was two weeks ago. She X'ed the days and there were a good number of X'es but she ripped right through them and landed properly on Sunday the 25th. 

Last night she also wrote down her 2:45 hair salon appointment for today. While I doubted she'd remember when "tomorrow" came, it was important for her to do, for many more important reasons.

All the more interesting is this process, because we do it by telephone: I'm 300 miles away.

TJ's household weekly haiku website challenges us this week with the household item, a calendar. To me, this has a unique significance. To elderly moms, to elderly dads, I dedicate this haiku:

I summon Mother

to mark this day from others.

Behold! We're still here!

This is the blessing!

Aromatherapy for Seniors, Alzheimer's Patients (and Others)

"There is no cure for Alzheimer's" I read again and again. I've alternated between accepting that claim and refusing to accept it. Scientists promise a cure in the future, but what about now? Even if there is no cure currently, maybe it's possible to stop its progression. This - stopping the progression of Alzheimer's - is in itself a blessing and this is my goal for my elderly mom.

I think I get a wisp of a sense of how difficult it is to remove plaque when I think about my semi-annual teeth cleanings! Ouch! It is so  much easier to not allow the plaque to build up in the first place. Or when I think about my own high cholesterol numbers, which is why I've been on Lipitor for so many years. As I just discussed with my doctor, the plaque in the arteries cannot be removed, but it can be stabilized. Or its buildup can be contained by smart eating. Such would be the plaque in the brain of Alzheimer's sufferers.

When it comes to my elderly mother, my mission is to halt its progression, and to stop this dreaded disease from further debilitating my mom's mind and robbing her of her intellect and memory. When Aricept had to be discontinued due to gastrointestinal side effects, I discovered that the Exelon patch bypassed that issue, as it was transdermal, and she's been on the Exelon patch ever since with minimal side effects.

My most recent protocol is aromatherapy. AROMATHERAPY? I do yoga and all, but I have my limits in this wellness craze. 

Still, need mandated that I venture forth once again into cyberspace, at which time I found a study done by faculty at the Tottori University, Yonago, Japan, which used the essential oil rosemary. Rosmarinus officinalis. The same rosemary that we use for cooking to make food smell yummy? The same herb that I have growing in my garden? The study also used the essential oil of lemon. In this study, the two essential oils, rosemary and lemon, were added to water in a diffuser. Both are presumed to have properties that, by traveling through the nasal cavity, and thus avoiding being broken down in the liver, directly affect the hippocampus or amygdaloid body, which is in charge of discharging neurotransmitters. A compound in rosemary, 1,8-cineole, causes an increase in a neurotransmitter called acetylcholine. It is the breakdown of these neurotransmitters which causes the lapses in memory and cognition.

What did I have to lose? What does my mom have to lose by trying this?

I ordered a diffuser and ordered the essential oils, and we went to work. The morning aid comes in to give my mom her meds and follows the protocol indicated in the study, exactly. She puts just enough water in the diffuser that the oils diffuse in under two hours, while my mom goes back to sleep. She sleeps as close to the diffuser as possible because she loves smelling the sweetness. Pretty interesting from somebody who insisted she had no sense of smell. Is there something in this essential oil is igniting her sense of smell?

If there's any water left over, in the evenings she holds the diffuser close to her nose and just breathes in the vapors. She loves the sweet smell. And as a bonus it may actually be helping to WHAT the neurotransmitters.

Is it affecting, or improving her cognitive functioning and her memory?

I believe so.  I maintain a log of what she does, what she says, and have been keeping this for months now. We also have a week-at-a-glance book that her aids and she fill in daily. In the last 5 weeks I've seen extraordinary improvement. In addition to the Exelon patch (which, by the way, is designed to block the enzymes that break down the neurotransmitters), she is also taking the doses of coconut oil (see next blog post.)

Doubtful? Read the Japanese study for yourself by following the link above. If your parent or spouse is suffering from Alzheimer's, what do you have to lose? What does he or she?

As for the rosemary growing in our garden, I have snipped off some branches and every now and then take a deep whiff. A big inhale... AHHHHH! And while inhaling I think about how much my brain loves this.....

And this is over-the-counter! The same type of naturally-growing plant that pharmaceuticals often try to mimic in their medications.

With this nasty disease, Alzheimer's, which usually results in death, it's best to take an all-inclusive approach. And remember, it takes 20 years for the symptoms of Alzheimer's to appear. So why wait until it's too late? Do some aromatherapy with the sweet-smelling scents of rosemary and lemon.

(See also: BBC: What Does Rosemary Do To Your Brain?)

Caregiver? STRESS ALERT: Take care of your own health.

"One sixty nine over eighty," the nurse at the CVS Minute Clinic said as she unwrapped and removed the inflatable cuff from my arm. "That's high. Do you always have high blood pressure?"

Always? I never had high blood pressure. I'm the one who everybody points to as living a healthy lifestyle and getting plenty of exercise.I'm the one who does yoga. Back home, I put the numbers into the search bar on the internet. 169 over 80. Hypertension. I don't know what those numbers really measure, but I know it's not good.

My annual medical exam was scheduled for the following week. I would get my blood pressure remeasured by my primary care physician, and we would discuss this.

One week later, it was slightly lower but basically the same thing. It was as high as that of some long-time heavy smokers I know. 

THIS is stress. Stress caused by a full year of managing, or dealing with, my elderly mother's issues. Trying to save her from financial devastation and medical destruction. All the while I was trying to write, publish, and promote my book, and other creative and professional endeavors (not to mention time and energy for my husband). I knew that I wasn't getting much exercise, I wasn't sleeping well at night, I knew that my routine was so centered around her, but I never gave a moment's thought to that this might be affecting my own health in some major way. I knew I didn't have as much time for my work and writing and my book as I would have liked, and that created internal - I would call them philosophical but they play out in the real world and in real lives - debates about taking care of others vs taking care of self. I knew I was stressed but you should see the looks on people's faces when I tell them I have hypertension.

"You?"

At my annual medical exam, my doctor asked the usual questions: "Are you getting exercise?" My response was limp. Sometimes riding my bike, but no long distances any more. Sometimes but rarely getting to yoga. Sometimes but rarely running. Playing tennis with my husband, but only on Sundays in the spring and summer.  And my doctor told me to get more exercise and come back in three months and get retested.

This in combination with also being told I was borderline diabetic created some serious talks and evaluations regarding how I manage my own health, diet, life, and also my mother's.

This is what I learned:

• Walgreens is amazing for anybody with high or low blood pressure. They will take your blood pressure for free. When you go, write down the result, and date it. I keep mine on my "notes" on my iPhone. I went monthly. With Walgreen's, there is no excuse for not getting your BP checked. No Walgreens? There is surely some pharmacy nearby. Senior centers often have regular and free BP screening.


• The gym was amazing, especially given this awful winter. Even without the winter, it gave me a routine that I could stick with. I usually went late afternoon or early evening. I made sure I listened to music on my iPod that was relaxing, but kept me moving. For me this meant Neil Young, especially "Harvest Moon." I had a full workout, including 20 minutes running on the indoor track. Once a month I would use the steps machine, which would measure my average and high heart rate. THIS TOO I would write down and keep a record of. Because I don't have enough time to go to the gym and do yoga, I incorporate my yoga breathing and 'asanas' and relaxation techniques into my gym workout.


• Vulnerability. We know we are stressed but it's more difficult to acknowledge how that stress is affecting us physically, and the degree to which it is affecting us physically. While some physical conditions are beyond our control, high blood pressure is often well within our control.  As we age, we become more and more vulnerable to stresses on our system. We are faced with conflict - ourselves vs those we love. And some of us are in the "sandwich generation." There are things I couldn't not do: Help my mother with her divorce, help her move from her home to her apartment, help her move from her apartment to the senior community, and so on. But many things, such as maintaining her car and making sure those bills were paid monthly, were unnecessary and only added stress to my life and my body. oing off for the day or weekend or week with my husband became an big deal, because nobody else in my family was willing to share responsibility for our mother with me. Dealing with the continued blood-letting of my mother's finances in her codependent relationship was another that I ultimately had to take by the horns, be strong, and weather the harsh disapproval that I knew I'd be up against.


• Don't miss your annual medical exam. Schedule it. Put it in the system. Then make it to your appointment. If you're afraid of what the results will say, then face that and ask yourself honestly what you can do differently to make sure that your health is not irreparably damaged and that you haven't given yourself reason to avoid going to the doctor's. Have this discussion with your spouse or significant other, if one is in the picture. My doctor warned me, and I gave myself a goal of three months to get my emotional and physical house in order. Me, the healthy one.


• Do what you need to do to lighten your burden around your elderly parent. That will pit you against your parent but for your life you need to. For me, it meant selling her car, and other difficult actions I write about. We fought. Often the fights were about her desire to have her car, versus my need to reduce my stress level, which was, literally, killing me. The fights were horrible because they pit me and my needs, physical and emotional, against my mother, who couldn't "hear" me, and what she wanted to do. The fights brought up other feelings and long-term issues. But being dead is no picnic, either.

The next time I got my BP taken, just one month ago, it was 142/74. Lower but still hypertension. 

Today was my last visit before my three-month visit to my doctor for a retest. 

This morning I went before I had my morning cup of coffee. The pharmacist came out and took the reading. My BP was 120/79. I phoned my husband and reported the good news, as if I were 14 and had gotten straight A's on my report card. Then I came home, had my coffee, and made an appointment for my 3-month checkup.

And wrote this blog post.

When Your Parents Lie to You

I know that much of what she tells me is a lie.

I didn't always know that. I knew in my gut something wasn't right. But I didn't KNOW it was a lie. And I didn't know why it was a lie or why she lied. I still don't know but such is the nature of a person's psyche. 

If your parents are lying to you, it's okay to know it. It's better to know and accept it than to not acknowledge it and try to convince yourself that what is a lie is actually true. Then you get really screwed up for life.

For a few days now her memory has been awful. Just awful. She also doesn't want to wake up and blames it on her cold. But people who have colds can get up and function. I know there's something else going on.

"Is it (this)?" 

"No."

"Are you depressed?"

"No. I'm just tired. Can't I be tired?"

"Did Unidentified Male Relative telephone you?"
 
"Maybe."

"What did he say?"

I don't remember.

If you're like me, you've learned to trust your gut. In my case, I have to wonder: A) She doesn't remember the telephone call because she doesn't want to remember; B) She remembers the call and its contents but she doesn't want to tell you/me. C) She doesn't remember the telephone call because she has some condition independent of all other emotional issues. After all, how am I ever going to prove that she remembers?  Or doesn't remember? The memory loss serves a practical and convenient function.

I have to harken back to just a few weeks ago, when Unidentified Male Relative showed up unexpectedly (on my end), and I discovered that he and she had gone to the bank together and had wiped out her savings account. At that time, she said nothing to me afterward, as it it hadn't happened at all. It was an awkward silence, me wondering if she'd say anything, giving her the opportunity to bring it up on her own, and she being quiet out of - fear? Of me? Of what I might say? Of having to deal with what she had just partnered in? But yesterday when the topic of finances and the savings account came up, she was quick to offer: "I did it because I wanted to." Memory loss? Or convenient 'memory loss'?

Sure enough, I find out late afternoon from Other Person that Unidentified Male Relative is there in her apartment. Other Person doesn't want me to call her and get elderly mom upset. I, however, need to call.  We have to do a reality check here.

"Was he there when you and I were talking a little while ago, and doing your meds?"

"Yes. I told you."

"No you didn't. You said you were getting ready to take a nap. That was all." I calmly informed my elderly mom that there is no money in the checking account, there is no money in the savings account, and all the credit cards have been shut down.  She argues that she's financially responsible. I say "No, you're not financially responsible." She says UMR has not asked for money. I say "Not yet." She's playing a game with me. But it's a fool's game.

What does it take to be a good liar? A persistent liar? All it takes is for the other person to be a fool, or to want to be fooled, to want to cling to a relationship or a dream more than you want to cling to reality and yourself. 

She says, "I don't lie to you."

At any age, it's hard to tell your parents that you've caught them in a lie. Let alone repeated lies. I think that what she's really saying is that she doesn't want to lie to me. For most of my life my parents presented things in one way but the truth was quite different. But time is running out and I have to just be blunt and honest about this - because we have to exist in a place of honesty. How much more time do we have to get to this place?

I say, "Yes you do, you lie all the time."  It hurts her to hear this, it hurts me say this. To KNOW this. Relationships cannot thrive in an atmosphere of falsifications. I can't imagine how much it destroys a person to be a liar. I take that back. I can imagine it. I see it all the time, every day. I can't imagine how destroyed a person must be to lie. A person's humanity. It's an awful way to live.

This time UMR can't get any money. My mom's finances are, for now, as they were. They are safe. I won't have to do any clean up of the mess tomorrow. She may not be very happy about it but I'm relieved. I've protected her finances, I've protected myself from the angst and stress of cleaning up the mess each time, which gets harder and harder each time, and I've eliminated one tool that fuels the codependency. I'm sad, but I'm relieved for the moment.

And for the moment, there is honesty.

Mothers Who Are Always Putting Up an Argument

I have arranged for a nurse to go in every morning at a fixed time to make sure that my mom has taken all her meds. She is billed $5. per day for this. At $15 per month, it's definitely worth it.

With this, I know that my mom is okay and that she's taken all her meds, and it leaves me the opportunity to live my life. 

But then what? Life is more than just waking up and taking your meds.

My mom will probably sleep most of the day if I don't call her and make sure she's up and about. And it's not because of her age. It's because of depression.

It's past that hour.... By now the nurse has long gone in to make sure she has taken her meds.

So... Do I call my mom this morning or not?

I will call her for sure in an hour or two to make sure that she's up and ready and moving for her aid.

But should I call her now?

Of course, call, you'll think. It's your mother.

Maybe not. It's usually very depressing calling her. We start her day with an argument and we start mine with an argument. Arguing and opposing seems to be how she survives, but it's not how I survive. If she says she's sleepy, and I say 'have some coffee,' she says she doesn't like coffee. If I remind her that she does, in fact that she herself bought coffee and it's in her fridge, she says that she changed her mind about coffee. Yesterday she said she couldn't go to her Dr appointment because she was nauseous and couldn't eat. As soon as I cancelled the appointment, she got up and went to the kitchen to eat. "Mom, I thought you were nauseous." 

"I'm always nauseous when I wake up."

"So then why don't you just wait a bit until you're not nausous and then eat, and then we don't have to cancel your Dr appointment."

No answer. I'm aware of what she does and how she can egg a person on into an argument whose point is - what is the point?? from her point of view? Just the love of arguing?

She will always come up with a fact in opposition and if she doesn't have a fact in opposition, she will make one up.  In fact it's what destroys me. It's been that way since I was a kid. (And maybe it's what destroyed her.) So what's the point of calling?  I don't need the argument or the negativity. 

The point would be to make sure she's up and dressed and has taken her cold medication, so that it can be working by the time the aid arrives.

Whether to call or not is not always so clear cut.