Choose peace, not war

I was minding my own business, browsing on my laptop, doing as we are told to do as carers and 'not react'. I picked my battles this particular day and chose peace, not war. Mum was on one of her raging bull outbursts, and my gosh, was she going for it.

In the blink of an eye, a freshly made cup of tea came hurling at me, spilling all over our hardwood floor, the rug, and smashing into one of Mum's much-loved elephant ornaments.

'Please don't do that, Mum, that's dangerous.'

I'd leave the room to fetch a towel and ask Mum to 'stay clear of any debris'. I couldn't be in two places at once. Another clatter—a plate of food had now been hurled in the same direction too. Luckily, these experiences were rare.

Moments like this really got under my skin. Yes, I know she didn't mean to do it; this was Alzheimer's through and through, but it truly challenged my inner peace. Why does Alzheimer's make our loved ones do the most outrageous things? I hate it. I know Mum would have been mortified if she knew what she was doing.

Looking around our living room, nearly every ornament had a nick or a scratch on it from this kind of behaviour. There was nothing left untouched in our house by Alzheimer's; it claimed nearly everything. Our family heirlooms all held that vicious reminder of just what Alzheimer's did to our home, and along with the memories, they will be a constant reminder.