Why I Should Be Paid the Big Bucks

Mom awoke from her afternoon nap a bit disoriented today. She does often forget various facts about the past and present (good news: my sister is no longer in jail), but most often she recognizes the information when I tell it to her. Today, however, I was surprised to hear that she wanted to get dressed in a blouse and skirt. So I fetched her a selection of blouses and skirts, and she chose a set. Then she told me that she had to get dressed because her parents are coming.

I said, "They're not coming this evening, Mom. We aren't having any visitors tonight."

"Are they coming tomorrow?"

I tried to get out of telling her this, but she is not quite confused enough that I am sure that I will not be caught in a lie. So I took her hand and told her the news: both of her parents are dead.

She didn't remember this at all, and cried while asking me a lot of questions about how they died, where they were buried, and whether there was a space for her between them because she didn't want to be all alone on the end of the plot.

I just wish that her confusion could be less upsetting. In a way, I will be so grateful when this is over for her.

Then she perked up for a while, even joking with me, giving a little attitude. We ate some dinner, and then she picked up the phone and asked for her brother's number. I said that I didn't think Uncle Ivan had a phone. She looked up at me in horror, and said, "He's dead, isn't he?"

This is why I (should) get paid the big bucks.