A Rough Day: 15 August 2026

Chicago: Saturday, 15 August 2026

So today was a bit rough.

I was wide awake at 7 AM and just felt like I couldn’t sit still. It’s pretty humid and overcast this morning, so after breakfast, I threw on some walking shoes and went out for a walk. I ended up walking for an hour although I got dizzy a few times and had to slow down. I’m pretty sure it’s the going from dry winter to humid summer thing.

We got Mom up and had lunch at home. At one point, she got really upset about something and just ugly cried. It was breaking my heart, and I was trying not to cry too. This visit, again, she is different. Not as antagonistic or aggressive but she sometimes gets agitated easy. The mood swings are more pronounced. There are times where it is very hard to follow her train of thought (which is okay), but she gets upset or frustrated or silent and it’s hard to communicate with her so I can understand how to help her.

Dad and I went to a few different places today with her to get her to walk off some of her energy and also so Dad could usher at church. I’m not going to lie that there are a few mixed memories around one of the places we went and St Paul. I also admit that I’m probably overtired and that makes me more emotional, but I was fighting off tears. Lots of ghosts. I don’t know how else to describe it.

One of the things I discovered, during the church service, was I just am not into the whole rote reciting stuff. To me, it feels disingenuous. I’d rather show my Christianity (as a philosophy more these days) through my actions, which I try to do. The last few years it’s become painfully clear that actions speak louder than words. I’m not saying people don’t have good intentions when they say something. But I’ve just become a little more painfully aware of the chasm between what some people say and what they do. (Not a criticism because even I am guilty of that.)

We went out to dinner after — a proper sit-down restaurant — and it was packed. There was a large group of people at a table behind my parents who were loud and a bit rowdy. I’m not saying they shouldn’t or couldn’t be. But we found out that for someone with Alzheimer’s, that really can throw things for a loop. Mom didn’t eat. She was trying to leave. She was playing with her food. And we tried to coax her to eat, but she wouldn’t other than a few french fries. The restaurant quieted down when some people (including the group) left, but by then, she was antsy and wanting to go. So we paid the bill and left.

On the way home, we were worried she hadn’t eaten. And it seems that sweet foods (especially ice cream) get her to eat. So we called into Dairy Queen and got her an ice cream cone. She devoured it. But before we left, she had to go to the bathroom — this seems to be a thing with her in restaurants — so we showed her the women’s room. She went in.

There were two high school girls in there. One came out with nothing seeming to be the matter really. Then the other one came out and said something to the first girl which sounded a lot like they were talking about Mom. And then Mom came out, and she was upset. From what I could tell, she was trying to talk to at least one of the girls and they left without saying anything and may have even shut the door on her.

This was one of those moments I was writing about before. Should I let my anger get the better of me, march over to their table, and let them have it? Or do I just give them “the look”, be the better person, and walk away?

I did the latter. They knew what they did to a confused old lady. And hopefully they reflect good and hard on that, if they have any sort of conscience.

Dairy Queen, on an otherwise empty stomach, seems to have the same effect on a tiny Alzheimer’s patient as it does on a kid. Because when we got home, Mom wanted to go to bed but she was on a sugar high and all over the house. She wanted to go out. She wanted to go do something. At 10 PM at night. So we kinda followed her and herded her all around the house until she seemed to unwind a little, then convinced her to go to bed.

She does this thing — again, like a little kid — where she kinda talks herself to sleep when she’s in this state. And we could hear her talking quieter and quieter for a few minutes until nothing at all.

Going back to St Paul: for those of you not in the know, St Paul Lutheran has been my family’s church (at least on my Dad’s side) since before I was born. I went to pre-school, grade school (from 4th grade), and junior high there. As we were leaving, I bumped into my 5th grade teacher (and St. Paul Lutheran School’s principal when I was attending) Mr. St. He said one thing that stuck with me: “Scott, you’re so lucky you can come home and help your family out with your Mom and spend this precious time with her.”

And yes, I guess that’s the lesson today. Even though it was hard, even though I’ve come back to yet another version of my Mom — one who keeps hugging me and kissing my cheek, who the other day when she broke down in Culver’s and I held her as she cried, looked up at me, stroked my cheek, and told me she always loved me, “her baby” — I get to spend this time with my parents, my brothers and sisters-in-law, my nieces and nephews, my wider family, and my friends. And, for that, I am grateful to have a life that allows me to do that.