One of the other mental health issues that Ruby was diagnosed with was Dementia. Not Alzheimer’s disease but dementia nevertheless. There have been times when not even the psychiatrist could tell whether she needed more psychotropic drugs or if it was the dementia that affected her behavior.

 For example, there was a period of time when Ruby refused to acknowledge me as her daughter. She would never say my name and along with this, she refused any forms of physical affection. My mother has never been a really affectionate person to begin with but during this period it was a lot worse. She was repelled by me. No, nothing had happened at this point between us. It was just the way she felt.

 There was really no proper way to resolve her issues during this time. I definitely did not want her to be medicated with more psychotropic drugs. The dosages she was on were pretty substantial already. I chose to accept my new moniker, “that girl that comes to see me.” This didn’t stop her from sending me to the store to buy toiletries or her fast favorite foods. Was I hurt by this? Yes, but I had come to accept that even when things were ugly between us, I would still be there.

 Some would say that this was a wonderful thing to do for Ruby. But, I had to implement some type of protocol to protect my own emotional wellbeing. After all, this is not some random patient-this is “my” mother. When she would not take her medications, her behavior became particularly ugly. During these times I would: limit my visits to ten minutes; decrease the visits per week; call the board and care to ask about her condition; make sure that she had the minimum of toiletries; and lastly, screen all phone calls from her.

 Some may say, “That was cruel! She was your mother!!” I say that I did fulfill my role as her daughter.  First, she was in a safe place. Second, I kept looking for resources to help her. It is very, VERY difficult to find a psychiatrist who specializes in geriatric care but I finally did because of my job (…will explain later). I physically checked on her enough to make sure that she was not being abused or being abusive. Ruby did not want for food or clean clothing. She could no longer be trusted in a house alone. As a working adult, I used the limited options that I had but didn’t relinquish my role as a daughter. As that girl that used to go see her, I learned self-preservation of my own emotional well-being and am the better for it.