Promise Me ...

When I met up with Rose last month she was talking about her mother. I supposed it was out of exasperation and she needed someone to talk to. The early signs were there. Dementia or senile would be the blame. I could empathise with her situation. Even Loh faced the same problem with her mother. The exasperation, desperation and hopelessness of the situation. She cared for her with as much patience, tolerance and love until her mother passed away.

I had gone through all that with my mother. Back in early 2000's, we were not very informed about this debilitating disease of the mind. We lose our patience. My siblings gave up. Once when one of them enquired why Mak had turned into this kind of person which was so alien to us - all I could say was to remember what she was before to us. Mak had become confused and muddled her memories of the present with the past. Most of them started to avoid going home as they wanted to retain whatever sanity they had among them. In the end, she moved in with my youngest, single brother who gave her freedom to do whatever she wanted to do. She was a very lonely mother - always waiting for her children to drop by for a visit. She was not able to comprehend that what she had talked about created rifts among her children. In the end, she passed away alone, sitting by the door ... always waiting and waiting. Sometimes I wished I knew what was going on in her mind.

We did not know she was facing this disease then. She had a case of swollen heart that saw her in and out of hospitals often. The doctor could not do much as she was very fragile and thin. Yet, she was able to handle herself physically without anybody's help. I tried to make my siblings understood her situation yet they were not receptive. I was the only daughter who lived far up north. Whenever I had the chance I always went home with the three young boys in tow. Whenever she felt so down, Izwan would call me and ask me to talk to her. I could always make her laugh. I was the last one to be with her before she passed away a couple of months later. I spent the night with her. Ikram and I slept together in the room with her. When I woke up early morning, she was awoke and kept looking at me. I told her to get some rest but instead she told me to go back to sleep. Thus, when Izwan called the others about her death, they called me for confirmation. She had forgotten yet I knew she could still remember.

Thus, when Loh talked about her late mother then all I could advise her was to make full use of this opportunity given. Strive for patience. Give her everything - time, love, indulgence, tolerance ... - even when she felt like giving up and screaming out of frustration. Same advice was given to Rose. Thus, when they have gone from us, there would be no regrets. Just fond memories. We would not remember the hardships and difficulties of looking after them and caring for them. We would have the mother we used to have, known and loved in our memories. What she once was before she started to forget.

I am starting to be forgetful. At times, I got mixed up with the information, names and faces. Due to genetics possibility, I was afraid I would, one day, end up with Alzheimer. My father and paternal grandmother suffered from stroke. I always asked my sons to be patient with me. Tolerate my idiosyncracies. If one day, they could not take care of me, they have been instructed to place me in a home. Under no obligation are they to commit themselves to take care of me. Thus, my prayers are the same as my mother's - "I pray that I will not be dependent on my children - physically, mentally, emotionally or financially." I always refer them to the advertisement where a father keeps asking his son the name of the bird repeatedly much to his son's annoyance. I can only hope and pray.

"The Notebook" written by Nicholas Sparks is a touching, loving dedication of a husband to his wife who ends up with Alzheimer. It is made into a motion picture. It is worth watching and reading. The notebook is written by the wife before she starts forgetting who she is, her husband and children. The husband and wife are put together in the nursing home and he reads to her the notebook every day even though she cannot remember anything at all. She does not even recognise him. She thinks he is a patient and her friend. Even when the children have given up on her, the husband is still dedicated to her until her death. Very touching and heart-rending.