I had such a lovely surprise today! My mother’s former live-in caregiver called to say she had visited my mother in her care facility. Susana was so excited at how well my mother looked. “Lydia”, she said, “she looks wonderful!” My mother was going for a walk with one of the care aides we hired to spend time with her. We believe it important to keep Mom engaged with life.
It was nice to hear these positive words, as my last few visits with Mom have been tough. She has been in congestive heart failure since 2011, and it appears that her pacemaker and various medications can no longer regulate her heart. After +30 years of erratic high blood pressure, her damaged heart is wearing out. Her laboured breathing reflects my own heavy breathing as I train for Kilimanjaro. Listening to her, I realised how well the thin air simulates this last phase of her life.
A new care aide doing her practicum came and visited us for a while. Her first comment to me was: Your mother is such a nice woman. She is such a nice woman. My mother of course, looked at her with her blue eyes and flashed a smile. She then started to speak in either Russian or Ukrainian. Unfortunately, neither I nor my siblings understand these languages, so when she reverts to her mother tongue, communication is limited. Thankfully, her confusion usually subsides, and she comes back to English or German.
The first time my mother started speaking to me in one of the Eastern European languages, I flipped. I have secretly dreaded the day when she would return to her maiden language. How could I possibly communicate? I forget that verbal communication is only one form of communication; there are many others.
As a child growing up on the farm, I quickly learned that my parents often communicated with their eyes. They had learned to converse in this manner during the War. There were times when they were travelling through Soviet-occupied territories, and their speech would have revealed their origins, so they did not speak. When I saw them flash a message with their eyes, I would demand, “What did you just say?” and they would laugh. “You can’t fool me! I saw the eyes…” and they would laugh and laugh…never revealing what they had said. It was for their eyes only.
It was nice to hear these positive words, as my last few visits with Mom have been tough. She has been in congestive heart failure since 2011, and it appears that her pacemaker and various medications can no longer regulate her heart. After +30 years of erratic high blood pressure, her damaged heart is wearing out. Her laboured breathing reflects my own heavy breathing as I train for Kilimanjaro. Listening to her, I realised how well the thin air simulates this last phase of her life.
A new care aide doing her practicum came and visited us for a while. Her first comment to me was: Your mother is such a nice woman. She is such a nice woman. My mother of course, looked at her with her blue eyes and flashed a smile. She then started to speak in either Russian or Ukrainian. Unfortunately, neither I nor my siblings understand these languages, so when she reverts to her mother tongue, communication is limited. Thankfully, her confusion usually subsides, and she comes back to English or German.
The first time my mother started speaking to me in one of the Eastern European languages, I flipped. I have secretly dreaded the day when she would return to her maiden language. How could I possibly communicate? I forget that verbal communication is only one form of communication; there are many others.
As a child growing up on the farm, I quickly learned that my parents often communicated with their eyes. They had learned to converse in this manner during the War. There were times when they were travelling through Soviet-occupied territories, and their speech would have revealed their origins, so they did not speak. When I saw them flash a message with their eyes, I would demand, “What did you just say?” and they would laugh. “You can’t fool me! I saw the eyes…” and they would laugh and laugh…never revealing what they had said. It was for their eyes only.