We did it! On Tuesday, Fumiko and Mom and I took the Amtrak Acela express to Boston and successfully installed Mom in her new home. On Mom's part, it was a largely peaceful transition. She enjoyed the train ride, which included a number of "snacks," and was impressed with the attractive building and grounds of the nursing home (Hebrew Senior Life). Her personal space there is of course rather small, but my sister Margie was cheerful about taking to her house some of the mountain of Mom's possessions we had brought, to hold for future needs. Margie reported the next day that Mom seemed to be busy and happy there, and Margie was very optimistic about her adjustment.
To backtrack a bit, I had a busy weekend. On Saturday, I washed almost every bit of Mom's clothing that is washable (if not machine washable, I won't send it). I hadn't realized until then what a lot of clothing Mom actually owns. I referred to the coming trip about every two minutes during the day (Let's take this when we go to your new home in Boston on Tuesday..."), and I instructed the weekend caretakers to continue this litany. Even so, she continued to express surprise from time to time (and one of her reactions after arrival in Boston was that no one had prepared her for this!).
Sunday afternoon we had a party at Mom's apartment for six of the current and just-past caretakers who have worked with her. They were all interested in meeting each other, and in saying good-bye to Mom. Fortunately, Mom does seem to evoke affection in others very easily! We brought in fried chicken and wine, Fumiko made miso soup and salad, and Cora (one of the helpers) brought a big apple pie. I encouraged the helpers to take some memento of Mom (clothing, book, art object), and almost all of them chose a few books to take away.
On Monday, I went to a little cake-and-coffee ceremony at Mom's day center, where everyone said good-bye. Mom was very gracious and appreciative. Monday afternoon and evening was a whirlwind of packing. I quickly realized that we would have to cut back on taking everything, but even so we had four suitcases and a cardboard box, including two radios, her calendar-clock, and a number of framed family photographs, plus the wheelchair and a walker!
I slept over at Mom's and got up at 6 to start gathering loose ends. Contrary to my fears, Mom woke up easily and was full of energy and cheer. Fumiko arrived at 7 and began wrestling the luggage into some portable mass. We were downstairs ready to go, Mom in her Queen-Elizabeth red hat looking very pert, by 8:40. By 8:45, the car had not arrived, so I called and they had lost my reservation! They promised to send another by 9 a.m., but I was a bit distraught, since the train leaves at 10. We managed to cram everything into the standard sedan when it arrived, and I white-knuckled it through the heavy traffic for 30 minutes. We got to Penn Station at 9:40, somehow blundered our awkward way to the elevator, picked up the tickets, and were escorted to the train by a redcap. In our seats with 5 minutes to spare!
The ride was pleasant, we arrived on time (actually a little before we expected, so we had a mad scramble to get out before the doors closed on us), found a taxi and got to the nursing home at about 2 p.m., right on schedule. Margie was there to meet us and we successfully negotiated the various formalities. At 4, I said a quick good-bye to Mom, and Fumiko and I left to have dinner with my Boston son and his family. Margie seemed to be gamely taking up the reins of control, and for myself I could only feel an enormous relief as I turned over to her almost all my responsibilities (I'll still be handling the finances from a distance). I hope Mom will do well there, and I think she will. Everyone seemed very friendly; lots of kissing, which Mom likes. And lately she's been so confused about where she lives and what her life consists of that I don't think she will actually miss anything. One small advantage of dementia is the absence of nostalgia and regret.
We were back in New York by midnight, and up early the next morning to begin the process of emptying Mom's apartment. Though it's exhausting work, I feel some satisfaction at clearing out cabinets and closets of 40 years of accumulated stuff, which I have been trying to ignore and work around during the past 4 years of caring for Mom. Most of the stuff has no history for me (ancient suitcases, an iron with a frayed cord, etc.), but occasionally there are surprises, like a huge white Irish linen tablecloth with the labels still intact. We'll have an apartment sale and then donate what's left over.
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