Dec 092015
 

“I don’t know if I’m lost or not,” Mom said as walked in the city. We were holding hands, the sun gracing us with warmth, the sheltering sky bright and blue.

I keep wondering what it’s like to feel that everything around you lacks substance, that what you knew a minute ago is now no longer familiar. What happens when your depth perception goes, and the general hubbub of the city becomes not just loud, but physically overwhelming? Or when you’re constantly feeling like something is missing—your bag, a shoe, your young child—but you don’t remember what it was or how to explain it.miriamblog

The other day as I was driving aound town, I suddenly realized I didn’t know where I was going. I could not remember how to navigate from point A to point B. The information I relied on was missing; it felt utterly blank inside my head.

Compared to some, Mom is doing great. She can still function in the world, to a lesser extent. We had a strange conversation at lunch where she asked me if my mother sang to me as a child. Who was I in her eyes, I wondered? Not her daughter. Not her sister. Who could I have been?

Sometimes it is enough to know that she enjoys my company. As I enjoy hers. As I leave my house each Tuesday and set out on my journey, I start narrowing my day’s focus. I put aside other thoughts, other chores, other aspects of me. I pack away my ego. I steel myself to the mystery, delight, and heartache of being with my child mother.

As we light the fourth candle of Chanukah tonight, let the light that shines so brightly from our individual flames light the darkness that is Alzheimer’s. Let us bring our precious loved ones into the light with us and treat them as kindly as we can.

I couldn’t let Chanukah pass by without making doughnuts. I love those ubiquitous fried dough balls. But who needs 600 calories every time you eat one! It’s not really about need, I know, but there are alternatives if you want to indulge without the shemen, oil, making you shamen, fat.

No-fry Doughnuts

These doughnuts are nearly as good as the real thing—sweet and light, and a whole lot fewer calories. Makes 12-16 bite-size doughnuts.

1 cup soy milk
¼ cup oil
¼ cup date honey
½ Tbsp yeast
1 tsp salt
2-3 cups flour

Coffee Glaze:

1 cup powdered sugar
2 Tbsp prepared coffee

Chocolate Glaze:

½ cup chocolate chips
½ tsp vanilla
½ tsp water

Directions:

Heat soy milk, oil and honey in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil then let cool. In a large bowl, mix flour, yeast and salt, and form a small hollow in the flour. Pour warm milk mixture into bowl with flour and mix. Kneed, adding flour if needed, until dough is springy to the touch but not sticky. Form dough into small round balls and place on baking sheet, making sure to leave room for them to rise. Let rise in warm room for up to 1 hour. Bake at 350° for 10 minutes. For toppings: Coffee—Mix 2 Tbsp prepared coffee with 1 cup powdered sugar. Stir to remove lumps. Chocolate—Combine ingredients in a microwave-safe bowl and cook on high for 40 seconds. Stir to melt all the chips. Dip rounded top of doughnuts into one or both mixtures, then let sit so glaze will harden.

About the Author: Miriam Green writes a weekly blog at thelostkichen.org that chronicles through prose, poetry and recipes her mother’s battle with Alzheimer’s.  Her unpublished cookbook, “The Lost Kitchen: An Alzheimer’s Memoir and Cookbook” is filled with advice for the novice cook, easy and elegant recipes and home-spun caregiver advice. Her poem, “Questions My Mother Asked, Answers My Father Gave Her,” won the 2013 Reuben Rose Poetry prize. Miriam is a 20-year resident of Beer Sheva, Israel, and a mother of three. You can visit her Facebook page here.

  5 Responses to “Light the Darkness that is Alzheimer’s”

  1. I work with people with dementia as an activity coordinator. My Mom is a resident in my community. I love your insight. It echoes my own. My Mom is still my Mom, but at at a new point in her journey, and I am committed to travel with her, even if it takes me to uncharted places.
    Amen.

  2. Linda you are a true angel. Your mother might not be able to tell you the way she feels loved because you are there, but I think she must value your presence. You hold her hand. You sing with her the memories you still have and touch her with them in a primal place which I am certain brings peace to both of you. Oh that I could be so loved.

  3. Growing up, I have lost many family members to Alzheimers. I too have always wondered what it would be like to feel like something’s missing, but never know what it is. I can imagine it being completely frustrating, constantly being confused like that. I also wonder, though, at some point farther down the road with Alzheimers, would you begin to forget that you were ever frustrated in the first place?

  4. Thanks for sharing your thoughts on caring for your mother. I always appreciate hearing about care-giver's experience as I am one, and need to learn

  5. Linda you are a true angel. Your mother might not be able to tell you the way she feels loved because you are there, but I think she must value your presence. You hold her hand. You sing with her the memories you still have and touch her with them in a primal place which I am certain brings peace to both of you. Oh that I could be so loved.

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