“Mom, how do you clean LaoLao’s teeth?” my eldest daughter asked.
“LaoLao” （姥姥）means maternal grandmother in Mandarin Chinese.
“I gave up last month,” I replied with a sigh. “She wouldn’t cooperate…”
“How about using oral swabs?” She thought for a moment and then showed me a picture on her phone.
The next day, she started cleaning my mom’s teeth with oral swabs. I felt a sense of relief; with her help, caring for Mom felt a bit easier, both physically and mentally.
Last month, when my eldest daughter came home from school, she immediately joined me in taking care of Mom because Mom’s caregiver was on vacation. With her medical knowledge, she showed me the correct angle for Mom to sit when we fed her and reminded me to slow down while feeding her.
Since February, Mom has been in hospice due to her deteriorating health. She can no longer walk or stand and doesn’t recognize anyone except me, her caregivers, and my brother. She needs 24/7 care and has become completely dependent.
Oral swabs suggested by my eldest daughter.
Mom’s Dementia
Mom was an orphan, losing both parents during WWII in China. She survived wars, starvation, and illness. Despite only having no more than two years of elementary education, she excelled academically in middle and high school. Later, she attended a prestigious university in China to study physics and became an outstanding research scientist specializing in metallurgical physics. From her, I learned optimism and resilience in difficult times.
She used to be strong, smart, and independent. It’s hard to imagine that she lost all her abilities after developing dementia. Over the past ten years, she gradually became dependent on me, and the strong, intelligent figure I once knew slowly faded away.
Two years ago, Dad passed away. Mom and Dad had cherished and supported each other for over fifty years. I thought Dad’s passing would devastate Mom, but to my surprise, she forgot him after a few days. I was distraught.
“How could you forget someone who loved you so much?” I asked myself.
During Dad’s last days, I accompanied Mom to visit him in the hospital. Dad always urged us to take good care of her and not let her get lost. He loved her deeply and worried she would suffer without him.
My friends say it’s a blessing that Mom forgot Dad; otherwise, she would have been heartbroken.
In the past two years, Mom’s memory has deteriorated significantly. She has more nightmares and hallucinations, getting scared and upset like a little baby. I visit her daily to spend time with her and remind her that I am her daughter.
My Daughters’ Help
My youngest daughter is the only one still at home, as her older sisters are in college. She loves spending time with LaoLao.
“LaoLao is my favorite person,” she said, wanting to help care for Mom.
“Why?” I asked, since Mom could hardly make any conversation logically.
“LaoLao never criticizes me. She sings, she talks, she hugs me — she’s so cute,” she replied.
I’m glad she started spending Saturdays with me, the day I take care of Mom during the week so the caregiver can have a break. It’s a hard day for me, both physically and emotionally, so her company makes a difference.
Feeding Mom one meal can take up to an hour.
“Be patient,” my daughter reminded me when I got frustrated over spilled water.
“Mom, you take a nap. I’ll watch over LaoLao,” she said, hugging me when she saw my exhausted face.
Only with her help can I lift Mom into her wheelchair. We take walks outside to get fresh air.
“LaoLao, look, beautiful flowers!” she pointed out the bright followers growing by the roadside.
She sometimes sings for Mom.
Family and Love
“What will I do if I get dementia when I’m old?” I ask my daughters from time to time.
“Mom, you won’t get dementia. You’ll be like that 90-year-old yoga teacher on the news, strong and active,” my eldest daughter says, raising her arms to show strength.
Inspired by her, I began my journeys in yoga and taekwondo, and I constantly draw inspiration from her.
“Mom, I’ll cook for you,” my middle daughter says with a smile.
She’s the best cook. I’d love to move close to her when I get old.
“I’ll take care of you just like you take care of LaoLao. I’ll sing to you,” my youngest daughter says.
These words warm my heart. Of course, I don’t want to become a burden to my children. I aim to stay healthy and live an enjoyable life, for both Mom and my daughters. I don’t mean to ask them these questions repeatedly, but their comforting words always make me feel better.
In my book, Build Resilience, I shared many stories about Mom’s life and her dementia. One thing I didn’t get to mention is the help and inspiration from my daughters. Just as I learned resilience and optimism from Mom, I learned patience from them. Caring for elderly parents is tough, but my daughters have taught me to cherish the beautiful moments with loved ones.
In two days, we will celebrate Mom’s eighty-sixth birthday. It might be her last birthday on earth. She has become so weak and fragile that she no longer understands the meaning of a birthday. Thinking of this makes me upset because I am not ready to say goodbye to her yet.
What she has taught me and my daughters is invaluable. The values of perseverance, kindness, and hard work have been passed down to me, and through me, to my daughters. Mom’s final days are numbered, but her spirit will live on forever. She knows that she’s surrounded by loved ones. This is enough.
To Mom, happy birthday!
To my daughters, I’m so proud of you.
