My 84-year-old mother, who once took lessons decades ago, chuckles: “She should do what I did—find the best-looking teacher she can!”
“Well, she’s only 13, so that’s not the best advice. What kind of grandmother are you?” I reply, laughing as she recounts her own story of taking lessons to quit smoking while managing the chaos of raising six children as a stay-at-home mom. Her Alzheimer’s often makes her lose track of the present, yet she vividly recalls memories from long ago. Although she’s in the early stages of the disease, our conversations now feel like a comedic blend of generations.
Out of curiosity, I recently picked up a book my mother has always cherished: Erma Bombeck’s If Life is a Bowl of Cherries—What Am I Doing in the Pits? From the very first line, it became clear why my mom resonated with Bombeck, who humorously admits, “I’ve always worried a lot and frankly, I’m good at it.” She goes on to say, “But mostly, I worry about surviving…That’s what this book is all about.”
Humor has been my mother’s lifeline through various challenges: raising six kids, navigating a divorce after 28 years, coping with macular degeneration that robbed her of reading, and now facing the harsh realities of Alzheimer’s. By the time I reached the introduction, I could feel a lump forming in my throat.
The book unfolds through a series of vignettes, some of which may feel outdated since their publication in 1971, yet many remain relevant. Bombeck offers a survival manual for families, with classic themes like “Replacing [a] Toilet Tissue Spindle” and “Closing a Door.” Her timeless observations include, “There, but for the grace of a babysitter go I,” and “Some say giving children responsibility helps them grow; others argue it just raises your insurance rates.”
However, Bombeck’s tone shifts in a poignant section about her mother, titled “When Did I Become the Mother and the Mother Become the Child?” She reflects on the gradual transfer of responsibilities, where as children gain independence, their mothers often become more childlike. The child “isn’t ready yet to carry the burden. But the course is set.”
It felt as if my mother was speaking to me through these pages. Alzheimer’s has taken so much from her; sometimes, during our phone calls, she simply says, “I have no words,” feeling the numbness that the disease brings. On my end of the line, I struggle to find words for an entirely different reason.
Alzheimer’s has blurred the markers of time for us. My siblings and I often grapple with how to handle forgotten family birthdays. While we can remind her of her grandchildren’s special days, our own presents a dilemma: do we gently remind her, or do we spare her the anguish of forgetting? I lean towards the latter, though neither option feels satisfactory.
Yet in a twist of irony, Alzheimer’s sometimes bestows a unique gift. In her moments of clarity, Mom shares that her memory loss allows her to worry less and laugh more. She describes it as being “suspended in time,” free from the pressure of remembering. These fleeting moments of liberation from time and worry are some of the cherries still left in her life.
Bombeck’s wisdom teaches that even late in life, there are still cherries to be found—we just need to dig deeper. One of the best ways to uncover these gems is by sharing a loved one’s favorite book. During our calls, as I read the humorous passages from my mother’s beloved book, she sometimes recalls the joy of first reading them. At other times, her brain processes them anew. In every instance, we share a delightful, intimate experience that nourishes both our hearts.
In conclusion, navigating a loved one’s Alzheimer’s journey can be bewildering, but finding humor and connection through shared memories can lighten the load. For those seeking more insights on fertility and parenting, consider checking out additional resources such as this helpful blog post or visit Make a Mom for fertility supplements. And don’t forget to explore UCSF’s fertility insurance FAQs for invaluable information on pregnancy and home insemination.
Leave a Reply