Lucy and Ethel and Dementia

          Mom and I used to refer to ourselves as Ethel and Lucy, which I have mentioned here 

           Yesterday we were laughing together.  It felt almost like it had a very long time ago.

          Of course I don’t remember all of the conversation – just pieces.  But it went something like this

          During the Password game show:

          Mom:  “Humphrey.  What kind of name is Humphrey?  Who would name their kid Humphrey?”

          I laugh.

          “Humphrey.  That sounds like a hump.”

          “I never liked the name Dylan.  Whenever I hear that name, I think of dill pickles”

          Later we were working on a crossword puzzle.  Let’s get real.  Sometimes the puzzle creators reach for definitions. Or else it’s taken for granted that the puzzle solver just automatically knows the name of every geographical location (including fictional ones) and the histories behind them.  Give me a break.

          So we’re laughing at some of our rationalization and realizing just because the word fits doesn’t mean it goes.

          “Viola relative.  Do they mean a flower?  Or are we supposed to know the actual person?”

          “Or it could mean an instrument.”

          As it turned out, mom was spot on.  The answer was cello. 

          We had asked all of the “across” questions, but not all the downs.  She decided it was taking us too long and looked the answers up in the back – writing down some and still asking, “What the heck is that?”  or “Oh, yea. Right.” Followed by the rolling of eyes.

          And then the phone rang.  It was her friend, Erin.  For mom, the phone call came totally out of the blue.  I wasn’t as surprised as I had just mailed a card to her daughter’s address (which you can read about here) 

          Mom related what we were doing and Erin asked to speak to me.  Mom handed me the phone saying, “It’s my friend, Erin.  She wants to talk to you.”

          Of course Erin and I couldn’t have the conversation that’s been missing all of these years.  She thanked me for finding her. She said she had no idea.  Well, of course she had no idea.  That’s understandable.  We only learned about it less than a year ago.  And mom’s mind seems to have gone downhill rapidly since she was first diagnosed with dementia.

          Erin gave me two phone numbers, her mailing address and email address to pass on to Fran (which I did once I got home) and I sent Erin a more detailed message than the one I had sent her at Christmas time. 

          I visit mom again today.  I hope it’s as pleasant as yesterday’s visit.