Mothers know, when you are sick with a cold, chicken noodle soup is a warm steamy comfort-food. It soothes a sore throat, breaks up congestion, warms chills from a fever, and makes you feel loved and cared for.
Some purists might only want the homemade variety, rich with vegetables and thick dumpling-type noodles as well as big chunks of chicken and seasoned broth.
When we were young and sick with a cold or flu, Mommy served us Lipton Chicken Noodle Soup. The packet contents, reconstituted with water - swimming with little noodles and warm salty broth soothed many a symptom, and we knew we were getting special treatment if she gave it to us.
These days, whenever I want to serve Mommy soup of any kind, she wrinkles up her nose and frowns in disgust. No matter how warm, how creamy, how chunky the ingredients, or how rich the aroma... she cannot be tempted to have some.
Calling up some memory of "living off of" the stuff during the Depression, the rationing days of WWII, or just times when she needed to stretch a dollar, must be at the root of her feeling like she does about it.
Still,I want to give her something warm and comforting. Something that will make her feel like she's getting special treatment. Something that soothes the aches and pains, and warms the heart.
I want to give her soup... or at least what it represents... the love and care she gave to us.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
"To sleep: perchance to dream"
In one 24 hour period, Mommy may have been awake for 4 of them. Of course, some days, the exact opposite may be true. Her sleep patterns are so varied, it would be hard to guess from one day to the next when she might be awake.
I noticed in one particular sleepy day, that she was having dreams from which she would awaken, thinking that events in her dream were real, and expecting them to take place.
I told John, it was like her reality was in the dreams, and being awake was the dream-like state in which you had no idea what was going on. I thought to myself, if your dreams make more sense to you than your actual life, why wouldn't you want to remain asleep? Is her subconscious mind somehow untouched by the dementia, or not to the extent that her conscious mind is?
She sometimes wakes up with questions about things she has forgotten in her everyday life.
Similarly, when she watches a lot of the Weather Channel, she will think that WE are the ones with a blizzard/snow/flooding rain, instead of looking out the open blinds of the window, next to the TV, at the sun shining in.
Just like the story Plato told of the people who lived in a cave all of their lives, and only saw the shadows of passersby - to them the shadows were the reality, the forms that those passersby took, in their minds, rather than their flesh and blood selves... Mommy's reality is skewed.
When your reality in waking life is unbearable, you seek reality elsewhere... in your dreams.
If she can find it there, I hope she has a restful sleep and pleasant dreams.
I noticed in one particular sleepy day, that she was having dreams from which she would awaken, thinking that events in her dream were real, and expecting them to take place.
I told John, it was like her reality was in the dreams, and being awake was the dream-like state in which you had no idea what was going on. I thought to myself, if your dreams make more sense to you than your actual life, why wouldn't you want to remain asleep? Is her subconscious mind somehow untouched by the dementia, or not to the extent that her conscious mind is?
She sometimes wakes up with questions about things she has forgotten in her everyday life.
Similarly, when she watches a lot of the Weather Channel, she will think that WE are the ones with a blizzard/snow/flooding rain, instead of looking out the open blinds of the window, next to the TV, at the sun shining in.
Just like the story Plato told of the people who lived in a cave all of their lives, and only saw the shadows of passersby - to them the shadows were the reality, the forms that those passersby took, in their minds, rather than their flesh and blood selves... Mommy's reality is skewed.
When your reality in waking life is unbearable, you seek reality elsewhere... in your dreams.
If she can find it there, I hope she has a restful sleep and pleasant dreams.
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