We received a surprise message from Mom’s care facility late last week that they were reinstating visits. My dad and I were so excited! It would be the first time in about a month that we’d be going to see her. We’d been in touch via video chat and we’d sent a family photo to the home for Israel’s Family Day, but nothing can compare to visits in person. We still weren’t sure if they’d allow us physical contact, though. Indeed, when we arrived, we were restricted to the other

We seem to be in a kind of dance. We take three steps forward and one step back. Now that we are all vaccinated with our second dose of the vaccine, Mom’s facility has stopped all visits because there is fear that the vaccine will not protect against the COVID variants. We are reduced once again to calling her via video chat which does not engage her attention. Our hearty hellos fall hollow and we are often wind up silently watching Mom sit at her table either playing with a

I’m going to call Mom’s care facility soon to request an appointment to visit with her. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. I do get reports from my dad. Some visits are priceless. Others, like today’s, are more difficult to swallow. Mom desperately wanted to be near him, and when he explained that they had to keep their distance, she became upset and abusive both verbally and physically to the staff who were caring for her during the visit. The staff actually asked my dad

When my parents moved to Beer Sheva from Netanya in 2017, the transition was very difficult for Mom. She never seemed to settle in their new house. She’d search the rooms and hallway for a hidden staircase, gather books and clothes and bundle them up to take on a journey, constantly seek my dad when he wasn’t with her, and roam the house at night searching for the bathroom. Mom’s emotional state became more brittle, too. The anger flared daily and she lashed out at us physica

Round two of worries to contend with. Two residents at Mom’s care facility have been taken to hospital after contracting COVID-19; four staff members are in isolation. To isolate the residents from one another so as to prevent any further spreading of the virus, they are all being kept in their separate rooms for most of the day, though the staff does take them out on an individual basis for exercise. Presumably, the staff makes rounds as well on a scheduled basis. I just can

Is it true that “No News is Good News?” This week, our interactions with Mom were difficult and depressing. We were unable to connect emotionally with her via the video chat, though she looked well and was certainly responsive to the staff who tried to coax her to interact with us. When we expressed our frustration to the director of Mom’s facility, she invited us to once again meet with Mom outside in the facility courtyard. The August heat is unbearable, though, so I wrote

Perhaps the uncertainty in our world-wide predicament is similar to the permanent sense of uncertainty that Alzheimer’s patients experience.

In the absence of our touch, the staff is now responsible for doling out affections to Mom.

I forgot to visit Mom yesterday at her memory care facility. When I realized I’d missed my appointment, it was too late to do anything other than sigh and berate myself. There are many reasons why I might forget the meeting, chief among them that I didn’t mark it down in my phone’s calendar. It is not because Mom has gone out of my head or that I’m forgetting her. It’s that I got caught up in the various and sundry other things that I was doing. I was supposed to see her afte

We might think that the easing of restrictions means the end to the coronavirus scare, but we’d be wrong.

How can I not hold her hands and pull her to me for kisses and hugs? That’s how I tell her I love her.

The terms of visitation sound like they’re straight out of a horror movie.

Mom is no longer in our orbit of care. Neither I nor my father—who still visits her everyday—can know what befalls her during her day.

My mom is still here, diminished though she is, and I have the privilege of seeing her.

It’s not a matter of how many goodbyes we have left, but how many hellos