10

Feature Articles

11

Feature Articles

My Journey with Mom to the Jewish HomeWhere my mom lives, there’s a beautiful garden right outside, rows of brightly colored flowers, and a vividly patterned sculpture. A fountain adds a lovely tinkling sound to the serene environment. Mom is a resident at the Goldenberg•Ziman Special Care Center.

By Barbara Meltzer

“I am in awe of the care that is given to her and the other residents at the G•Z building. My demanding work schedule does not allow me to see mom as often as I did when she lived closer, and I miss her…but I worry so much less. I know that she’s in good hands. Caring hands. “

Her journey – our journey, really – to the Jewish Home began seven years ago. It has been filled with pain, frustration, and fear, but also with love, revelation, and gratitude.

It all started with a call from a social worker in Tamarac, Florida. I flew there from L.A. the next day and walked into a nightmare. My father’s health was rapidly deteriorating. My mom, whose name is Sara, had moved past the beginning stages of dementia and was still trying desperately to help him.

Dad died a few weeks later – just days after their 62nd wedding anniversary. I moved my mother to Los Angeles. She came willingly. Her memory loss and dad’s illness had distanced her from her friends, and she was very lonely.

When I started the search for an assisted living facility in Los Angeles, I soon realized how difficult it would be. It’s not something one can find on MapQuest or Expedia. I looked at about a dozen homes. At the time, I wanted her

to live near me in West Hollywood. The Jewish Home was “too far.” We had a limited budget, and I soon realized that my long list of “must haves” needed to be shortened.

I found a place on Fairfax Avenue. It was not my ideal choice, but it was fine and very close to both my home and my office. I could watch over her.

About two years after she moved there, I decided to add her name to the Jewish Home’s waiting list. If that was really best for her, then it was selfish of me to insist she be near me.

I anguished as I watched her memory worsen and her past slip away. For her, there is no past anymore and no thoughts of tomorrow. I guess one could say she lives a Zen life – mom is always in the moment. Happily, she enjoys the moment. When there is music, she will dance. She loves to sing and will “la-la-la” her way through a song. Words don’t come easily any longer.

I remain a constant in her life and, until recently, her eyes would light up when she saw me. She would jump up, grab her walker, and away we went. Sometimes that still happens. Mostly it doesn’t. I find myself willing her to know me and feel very sad when she doesn’t. But, there is always a smile and her lovely warmth.

As her memory became worse, I knew I would need to find a new home for her that offered more care. And then, on a Monday last December, a miracle happened. There was an opening in the Joyce Eisenberg-Keefer Medical Center. I went there with mom and found that it’s an outstanding facility, but I wasn’t sure that it was right for her. It is big and bustling and mom had been accustomed to a much smaller, low-key environment. I worried about her ability to adjust. After much deliberation and apprehension, I decided to do it. She moved in on a Friday.

Mom was terribly confused and didn’t understand what was happening. My misgivings grew. She was used to taking an elevator each day and kept heading in the direction of those at the Medical Center. She was looking for the room she no longer had. Now she was “wandering.”

The second miracle took place the following Monday. There was an opening in the Goldenberg•Ziman Special Care Center. Once again, I raced to Reseda and moved mom there with not a moment’s hesitation. Annie LaClair, clinical manager for the Goldenberg•Ziman Center, took us around, showed us mom’s new room and then took us to a special activity – a luncheon for the “Red Hat Society.” All the ladies were wearing red hats, some were singing, others were swaying to the music. Mom started to dance! I stood there watching with tears in my eyes. I knew that she was finally “home.”

I now make regular trips to and from Reseda…gladly. I am in awe of the care that is given to her and the other residents at the G•Z building. My demanding work schedule does not allow me to see mom as often as I did when she lived closer, and I miss her…but I worry so much less. I know that she’s in good hands. Caring hands. And I’m grateful for that. I no longer wonder if her room is clean. It is. I’m not concerned that she might be bored. There are so many activities at the G•Z building, and she still participates.

Mom is now 92 years old. She has a wonderful spirit, and folks love her. When we visit, nothing else matters. We are a team. Both ‘foodies,’ we eat out and ooh and aah over special treats. At one time, she even looked forward to doctor’s appointments because it meant we would be together. Now that’s love!

Mom goes in and out of knowing who I am. My name is lost to her. Sometimes she will recognize me as the “nice lady who takes her out.” Sometimes not. She always comes with me willingly and eagerly because she still enjoys having adventures. I miss her when I don’t see her, and now, I miss her when I am with her. It’s a hard, hard journey. But, I’ve had so many moments to cherish and, I am sure, there are many more to come. They’ll just be different.

I have heard people talk about “parenting our parents,” but it isn’t like that – not really. She is still my mother and will be for as long as she is here on Earth. I like to believe that somewhere deep inside she knows that I am her daughter.

I rest easy knowing that the folks at the Home know all about mom now, including her love for dancing. There is no doubt in my mind that they will keep the music playing for her.

Mom is now officially a member of the Red Hat Society and I’m officially a member of the Jewish Home’s community of family members. How lucky we are.