Our Little Christmas Miracle
December 2024 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
Before I tell you about my little Christmas miracle, let me catch you up to speed on how 2024 has been going for Mom and I. Earlier this year, Mom had a scary incident with her foot slipping off the brake pedal when she was driving into her garage. She stopped the car before hitting anything, but decided it was time to give up driving. We sold the car, got her a mobility scooter, signed her up for online grocery shopping, and crossed our fingers she would adapt well to her new life.
Being stuck at home was harder than Mom anticipated, and she began having more bouts of depression. I suggested talking to a therapist to which she furrowed her brow. Mom’s family doctor suggested switching to a different antidepressant drug called duloxetine. Mom tended to be afraid of things she didn’t understand, like psychiatry, and jumped on the familiarity of the medicine approach. I wanted to strangle the doctor but thought better of it. This was not a hill to die on ... yet.
After about four weeks on duloxetine, the bouts of negativity, crying, and wanting to die continued. On top of that, Mom became more tired, and her eating habits deteriorated more than before. I went to her home one Saturday afternoon to drop off some items I had picked up at Walmart for her and found her asleep. When I woke her, she was disoriented and had a tough time thinking and verbalizing. She sat on the bed for a few minutes, gradually becoming more coherent.
While Mom walked from the bedroom to the dining room, she told me to transfer money to my account to pay for the things I had purchased. That sounded like the mom I was used to hearing so I went ahead to the dining room. I was digging in my purse for the receipt and told her that she needn’t worry about the money. She didn’t respond, which was weird because she usually talks a lot. I glanced in her direction thinking she hadn’t heard me, and my eyes stopped at her legs. She looked like she was walking in place next to the table.
I raised my eyes to ask her if she was dancing and I saw her face. Her catatonic stare looked straight ahead. One hand gripped the back of the chair and the other held onto the walker. She started slowly sinking to the floor as if she were sitting down more so than falling. I couldn’t get around the table in time to guide her to the chair. She went down so gently the fall detection on her personal medical alert monitor didn’t even kick in. Her eyes were wide open, but she was unaware of anything for a few seconds.
