When your parent has Alzheimer’s, you never know from day to day what you’re going to find. Or not find.

pics of grandson’s, face down

Her glasses went missing recently – for four bloody days. We searched everywhere we could, in the sugar canister, the freezer, the oven, in every nook and cranny, every drawer and closet. No damn glasses. I was about to take Mom to her dentist optometrist to order a new pair but wanted one last kick at the hide and seek can. In one of those serendipitous moments borne of total frustration, I flipped the pillow off the bed she never sleeps in (technically, I smacked it in anger and it flopped over without fanfare) and tada! Glasses. They were under the pillow the whole time. Now it’s the first place we look for stuff.

pics of grandson’s hidden in a drawer

Her black television remote went missing the same day as the glasses. It was a few days later during a cleaning session that I found them. Needed some cleaning supplies, so down on one knee I bent and stuck my head under the sink. Voila! Remote control, standing upright in a bucket next to a duster and a can of Ajax. In its absence, we were lucky to have the Flipper that I’d ordered from Amazon. It would also go missing but be quickly found in the freezer, under the couch, or more recently, in place of baby Jesus in the year-round nativity scene.

One morning, all of her lamps were gone. They wouldn’t fit under the pillow, so we checked Dad’s snuggery (the room that used to be my brother’s bedroom but was turned into a treatment room for dad’s dialysis. Now, 20 years after his death, it’s a dumping ground for hidden stuff, unused Depends stuffed into a velvet box, and Mom’s rarely worn clothes).

another pic hidden in a drawer (often found under the couch)

We got the lamps back in place, but they had no light bulbs. We never did find those. So I stole some from the ceiling fan.

Another visit, most everything was missing from her stereo. She has an old fashioned console kind that is just used to display pictures and hold lamps. Hasn’t played records in decades. I asked where her stuff was. She had no idea and wanted to know who moved it and why?

The popular philosophy is to go along with her version of reality. Or as baby girl and I put it, buy into the crazy. It’s not a skill I’ve learned. Sometimes, rare times, I can do it. But how do you let her think strangers are coming into her house and moving her shit? I’m not going to tell her that I do it. So we tell the truth, we seem to be better at that. We explain that, in a tired state, likely in the night, she moves her things. She can’t believe it, says she would never do such a thing.

Painting done by my Grandpa, covered by mom’s jacket

Sigh.

We discovered later that she’d cleaned off the stereo the night before. My systir had been over and it was all gone. She found the lamp and put it back, then discovered a cord PINNED to another cord. Luckily Mom couldn’t get the pin THROUGH the cord, but I bet she tried. The next day, baby girl found everything else. Under mom’s bed.

She moves pictures a lot. Sometimes she just puts them face down in situ. Other times they disappear – into drawers, under the couch, under the bed. My working theory is that they turn into strangers staring at her, watching her. She keeps school pics of my systir’s boys on her dresser. They disappear and reappear and appear face down at regular intervals. One time she asked who put them there. I said she did.

No, I’ve never seen them before.

They’ve been there for about 17 years.

found under the bed – all the pics from the stereo

Tagged as: Alzheimer's, dementia, lost and found, Mom