June 23, 2008

Dying ditsy

By the time my mom was 90, she was a prune mentally as well as physically, incapable of sustained conversation. Confused by Alzheimer's and senile dementia (exacerbated, in my opinion, by her inherently ditzy nature), bedridden by two broken hips and internal infections, she was in no condition -- physical or mental -- to think about her face.

A few days before her death, I had gotten a call from a friend in the States that Mom was in the hospital again with an infection in her feeding tube. As this was my mom’s second hospitalization within two weeks, I understood the gist of the conversation, even though Gina was vague, calling from a phone with my dad standing next to her. (My dad was deaf by then and unable to make a phone call on his own). Sounded like Mom really WAS dying this time.