We came home and found my mother beside herself. Since she’s lived with us (and apparently before as well), she’s been very concerned about her “regularity”. In fact, the first night in our home, she complained and I went out and bought her a pack of suppositories. Apparently, and thankfully, they worked well. Considering her vision, I was concerned about them simply lying on the bathroom vanity, so I put them in the closet. She hasn’t needed them since. Until the other day. When my wife went in the house, my mother complained that she went looking for the suppositories and couldn’t find them. “Somebody stole my suppositories”. She declared.
This isn’t the first time she couldn’t find something and jumped to the conclusion that somebody stole what she couldn’t find. Sadly, my mother has become very distrustful to the point of paranoia. This isn’t new. Many years ago, when she was living along in a senior high rise, she would get together with some other residents and play Scrabble. My mother has always been an excellent Scrabble player and her advancing age was no impediment to her success. What brought her down, however, wasn’t her ability to create high value words out of a set of obscure letters, it was her hearing.
What on earth does her hearing have to do with playing a quality game of Scrabble. Nothing really, what took her away from the game was her inability to hear, accurately, what the other players were saying. She began to complain to me on the phone how when she played, the others would whisper so she couldn’t hear them. Of course they did so, she said, because they were talking about her. It’s actually a bit heart breaking to hear her say that. Of course they weren’t whispering, it’s just she could barely hear them anymore. That, combined with her tendency to distrust others, led her to the that negative conclusion and finally led her to stop playing scrabble with her friends.
Getting old sucks.