I walked in at Mom’s yesterday to take her for a ride around town.  Our wonderful caregiver, Sharon, was with her, and Mama just smiled when I walked in like she knew me and had not seen me in years.  She does that every time I see her and it never gets old.  While Sharon was explaining how Mama’s day had gone, and that she’d all but fallen on the steps, Mama looked at me and and in that pleading, worried voice said, “Bobby?”.  I almost naturally said “I’m not Bobby” or “Mama, I’m Tracey” but I stopped myself.  I realized it didn’t matter.  She wanted me to be my Bobby so I said, “Yes?”.  She asked in her garbled language if she could go with me and I said “Yep!  Grab your pocketbook and let’s go to Zack’s!”.  And off we went, me, Mama and the Bald Eagle…. my heart breaking.

My brother had just been saying last week that he doesn’t believe Mama knows who Daddy is anymore, that she just knows she is safe with this person.  She’ll be in the room with Daddy and ask where he is; she’ll go looking for him or his truck while he’s sitting next to her. I now believe my brother is right (don’t tell him I said that).

But after this happened, I helped Mom out to the truck.  She’s walking so slowly now, her gait changing rapidly.  She’s leaning to the left as she walks, losing her balance.  She’s not picking up her feet hardly at all, it’s just different.  She came so close to falling twice the past few days. Thankfully someone was close enough to catch her.  And last night her face was twitching on one side badly.  We’re all concerned this could be signs a stroke has happened and we’re taking her in tomorrow.

This and the other changes are escalating so quickly at this point and there’s not a darn thing we can do about it.  I have never been so helpless or frustrated with a situation in my life… we all feel this way.  To take her to the doctor to hear yet again it is what it is…this is to be expected… there’s nothing we can do.  It steals your belief in helping her to get better, knowing no rehab, no treatment, no medication can do one darn thing.  What is there to believe in other than knowing my Lord and Savior has a place waiting for her where she will be Linda, be Mama, again. But still, to hear there’s nothing we can do…

…it’s like watching a person drown while your hands are tied behind your back.  You see it happening, you want to jump in and save them, pull them to the shore, but instead you have just sit and watch it happen.