Playing along

The thing about watching my mom lose her grip on reality is that I feel like I’m participating in some way. For years now, I’ve honed my skills as mom-whisperer: she’s always been a rambling talker and I’ve learned to decipher the meaning. Now, though, my mental habit of pulling multiple threads of conversation together into a meaningful web is making me feel a little crazy myself. I find myself grasping for a throughline that is fading fast. It’s been a taxing day. It was already going to be busy, covering for a staff member on the day after a holiday. Then mom called, wondering where everyone was. I heard her tell a nurse that she and her family arrived last night and Jeremy was still at the hotel. The hospice aide, bless her kind heart, was covering for the usual aide and so knew very little about mom. She was as confused as mom when I talked to her on the phone. My mind was shot for the next two hours. I worked in a haze. The reconciliations came out right, which honestly…