Support Group

We did it. Yesterday, we went down to the community center over in the next town, partook in the senior luncheon, and then Dad and I attended the Alzheimer's caregivers support group while Mom was in the next room with a respite worker and one other individual with AD.

It was quite the harried experience, even for me. We arrived at the luncheon at just a little before noon, to a room packed with lovely seniors (many of whom I recognized from my four years of working in the local market as a produce clerk), and the workers had to scramble to set up an extra card table for us. It was placed by the main door, which would let in a chill every time another individual entered or left the building. The utensils, paper plates, jug of water, paper cups, butter pads and individual creamers were strewn sloppily across the tiny table, fairly dismal, but we tried to keep our chins up, especially being the new kids.

There was a loaf of sliced fresh banana bread in a basket. Mom nodded her head "no" when we offered her a slice at first, but she soon she conceded and ate a few bites. We were joined by another senior man, one I knew and had spoken with before, harmless but one of the dullest conversationalists. I introduced him to Mom and Dad, and Mom, bless her heart, tried in vane to get a conversation going with him, but every time she asked him a question, his answer would drone on, drool on his chin, and basically only face me!

The slop they called "lunch" was soon served; a chicken and noodle dish, really wretched, to be honest, but Dad loved it, and everybody else in the room seemed to swill it down, except for me and Mom, who ate as much as she could before announcing she was "full."

After a small styrofoam dish of chocolate pudding with whipped cream and coffee was served, an announcement was made about next week's Christmas dinner, and soon the room was active with people rising and putting on their coats, clutching bags and walkers, canes and aides arms. The door by our seats was opening and closing, letting in the cold air. Mom was getting restless, and we still had fifteen minutes to go before the meeting started.

That is when things got really confusing and stressful for Mom. As it was our first time attending, we did not know who to look for, where to go, who to ask. Eventually, Mom got up and asked somebody herself! "I have Alzheimer's Disease, where is the meeting?"

During those moments, people coming and going, introducing themselves, Dad and I getting our bearings, Mom was clutching her bag and telling as many people as she could that she had Alzheimer Disease and was this were the meeting was? At one point, I pulled her aside into a quite room, sat her down and tried to calm her and explain what was happening. Dad was off trying to find out where and who we were to meet, and Mom was getting more and more agitated. She actually seemed to want to have a group meeting, some conversation, something.

Finally, we met the social worker who was running the group, and she directed me to where the respite worker was. I recognized the respite worker, and she me, from my produce clerk days, so I was relieved. She sat Mom down with one other man with AD (the husband of another woman I recognized from town who was a long time group attendee), and the respite's husband was there, too, not with AD, but legally blind. He set up a boom box and played Christmas music, while we left Mom to work on a Christmas card project. I tried not to worry too much about her.

Dad and I finally got into the group meeting, and besides the social worker, their were three other senior women, with Dad and me. The group went about as well as expected; some shared miseries, some shared information, announcement for a free class on caregiving for AD and dementia individuals later in the new year. A little venting, a lot of asides. I think the best thing Dad may have got out of it is the realization that he needs to meet with an elder law attorney to set up Durable Power of Attorney and Medical Power of Attorney (not sure if that's the same thing as  the "end of life" stuff they completed late last summer.)

Me? It was just nice to support Dad and Mom in this adventure. Finally, Dad admitted to the group that he was tired (it was to meet until two thirty), so we excused ourselves and left fifteen minutes early. Apparently, Mom stole the show out there, singing along with the music played and naming the singers.. naturally, she charmed them all.

Later, in private, as I drove them home in their car, Mom admitted that she nearly "burst out into tears two or three times" wondering about Dad and me, and wanting so badly, to go home. Can't blame her, really.

However, I gave her a lot of credit for going to this, and she was a trooper. I told her we did this for Dad, and now, "he owes her one." The support group meets once a month.

Next time, we will skip the luncheon.