For the past two years, life with Mom has been sweet. Alzheimer’s is such a debilitating disease, and the silver lining was that she was so loving and so sweet.

The honeymoon is over.

It started about a month ago. She insisted she witnessed a child being beheaded. My immediate reaction was, “No! That didn’t happen!” thinking that may reassure her that it was a bad nightmare. Big mistake. She screamed at me, “It did! I saw it!” so then I resorted to, “Oh my goodness. That must have been so terrible, Mom. I’m so sorry you saw that.” And she would cry. And cry. And cry. And retell a strikingly similar story each day. And become just as upset. This would go on for hours. Nothing would console her. I reached out to her doctor and we adjusted her medicine.

After a few weeks, one day she didn’t talk about the child who was beheaded. And I thought to myself, “Thank goodness that phase is over.”

Lordy. We’re now in the “I hate you!” “Get away from me!” “How could you be so mean to me?” phase. She has an uncanny knack of waiting to melt down until I’m on a work call. She storms into my office, crying, screaming, and stomping her feet. I attempt not to look at her and continue with my call, nonplussed. I text her caregiver to please come get her. She screams at her caregiver, shoos her away, and tells her to go away and get out of her house.

I try comforting her. It doesn’t help. I try ignoring her. It doesn’t help. I try talking to her logically. That really doesn’t help. I try agreeing and sympathizing with her. Not helpful.

Tonight she was so angry at me that she threw her purse in the middle of the floor, stormed up the steps, and slammed her bedroom door. I didn’t hear anything for a while, so I went upstairs and found her lying in bed, sobbing. I sat down beside her and she screamed, “Get out!” “Mom, I’m sorry you’re so upset. I love you so much. I brought you your medicine.” “I DON’T NEED MEDICINE! GET OUT!”

She did need her medicine. It’s a sleeping pill so that she sleeps through the night. Otherwise, she wakes up around 2 am, hysterical, and comes into my room.

“GET OUT!” “Mom, I’ll leave as soon as you take your medicine.” “I CAN DO THIS TOO.” “I know you can, Mom. Take your medicine and I’ll leave you alone.” “I SAID, GET OUT!” and she pulled all the covers over her head so she couldn’t see me. “I’m going to sit here until you’re ready to take your medicine.” After a few minutes she said, “FINE. GIVE IT TO ME!” She started to sit up, and I handed her the small pill. With one movement, she tossed the pill over her shoulder as if she were making a wish at a fountain. “THERE!”

I really tried to keep my composure, and I couldn’t help but laughing. “Mom, I’ll bring you another pill. I have a whole bottle. When you’re ready to take it, let me know, and then I’ll leave you alone.” I got another pill and brought it to her. She laid in bed, sobbing. I sat beside her, quietly. Finally, she said, “ok” and took the pill.

I tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and told her I loved her.

“Just go away….” she whimpered.