“I consider myself fortunate. If I had to place her in a nursing home, I’m grateful it happened before the global pandemic.” Fortunate. That’s a statement I shared with a friend in March 2020, shortly after learning that my mother’s nursing home would no longer allow visitors due to COVID-19. As those words left my mouth, I felt anything but lucky. I was enraged.
I was furious that my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s at the age of 67. I was upset that I had to navigate the long-term care system and place her in a nursing facility while I was still in my 30s. And I was infuriated that a global pandemic hit right after I left her there, making visits impossible. But, at least my father wasn’t alone in quarantine caring for her, so I guess I should feel fortunate?
My family’s experience is not unique; many families are grappling with this devastating illness. It began with my mom being “forgetful.” Then, it escalated to her struggling to make sense of things, leading to a confusing series of tests and ultimately a diagnosis. This disease, which I thought mainly affected the elderly, invaded my mother’s life in her early 60s, abruptly ending her career as a kindergarten teacher, transforming our family dynamics, and thrusting me into a crash course on elder care.
As my mom’s condition progressively worsened, my father found it increasingly challenging to cope. Caring for someone with Alzheimer’s means preparing a meal only to see it thrown away, or realizing your loved one has wandered off, putting them in danger. It means sleepless nights because they may roam around restlessly. Encouraged by me, my dad eventually sought help through a local “Adult Day Care,” allowing him to drop my mom off with trained caregivers while he ran errands. Despite my brother and I trying to assist, our own young children and demanding jobs limited our availability. Who would have thought I’d be managing infant daycare and adult daycare simultaneously?
As difficult as it was for my father to accept my mother’s rapid decline, I knew that a nursing home was inevitable. I began the challenging process of researching and touring facilities, ultimately getting her on a waiting list for a local memory care home. In February 2020, two years after she was placed on that list, I received the call: they had an available bed. We had to decide quickly—was it the right time? If we didn’t take this opportunity, would we find ourselves regretting it later? We accepted the bed.
On March 3, 2020, I moved my mother into the nursing home. Prior to our arrival, I crafted a manifesto detailing her life—who she was and what she meant to everyone—so her caregivers would know her beyond the confines of her illness. I packed her favorite clothing, some family photos, and artwork from my kids. That day, we settled her room, met the staff, and shared a meal together. I promised her I’d return soon, next week with the kids and more outfits. I envisioned being back quickly.
Then came COVID.
No visits allowed.
I could call and attempt to speak with her, but those conversations rarely went well. Alzheimer’s patients often struggle with phone calls or video chats. Eventually, we could schedule a window visit, but I couldn’t manage to get there—juggling two kids at home and a full-time job was overwhelming. I feared that seeing her so close yet separated by glass would break me; I might throw a rock at the window just to reach her.
Finally, in-person visits resumed.
274 days after I left her at the nursing home, I sat in a room with my mom again. Temperature checks, masks, social distancing—no physical contact, yet we were together in a conference room. Between the masks, her disease progression, and the time apart, I wasn’t sure she recognized me, but that didn’t matter. I felt her presence in the room, and for that moment, I wasn’t a working parent during a pandemic, or a stressed caregiver—I was just a daughter again. Sitting with my mom, the woman who had always represented home to me, I saw the most beautiful person, despite the Alzheimer’s and the mask.
When our time together ended, I stepped outside into the New Hampshire rain and cried. Perhaps I wept because I didn’t know when I would see her again. Or maybe it was because cases were surging, putting her at further risk. But above all, I was overwhelmed with gratitude.
I know families who have had to say goodbye over video calls. I understand the pain of those who didn’t get to say goodbye at all or who had to attend virtual funerals, facing an unbearable grief. I recognize that our leaders have mishandled this crisis and that the future remains uncertain. Yet, in that moment, I felt immense gratitude. Today, I sat with her. I looked into her eyes and repeatedly told her how much I loved her.
I can’t predict what tomorrow holds, but today, I feel incredibly fortunate.
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- Managing Alzheimer’s care in your 30s
- Navigating nursing homes for parents
- Coping with a loved one’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis
- Impact of COVID-19 on nursing home visits
- Resources for families dealing with Alzheimer’s
Summary:
In her 30s, the author reflects on her experience of placing her mother in a nursing home due to early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, navigating the challenges of caregiving during a global pandemic. Through her emotional journey of loss, confusion, and gratitude, she emphasizes the importance of familial love and connection, even amid adversity.
Keyphrase: caring for a parent with Alzheimer’s
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