Sex Drive ~ part 3 ~ the drive continues

For the next few weeks, I slide into a bubble of denial and try to pretend nothing is wrong. It had only been just over a year and a half since I had moved back to Vancouver. 

I wanted to be closer to my mother. I had left in my mid-twenties trying to get as far away from her as I could (I made it as far as Edmonton, and then I came back to visit every 6 weeks). It seems the further I went the better and stronger our relationship became. The only child, my mother had always wanted more of me than I could give. I wanted to be out with friends traveling and living life, she wanted me to be hanging out with her. After I moved away she began to live her own life. By my early 30’s I had made it as far as Toronto, but I wanted to move home. Our relationship had grown strong and I was now my own person. I didn’t want to miss any more time with her as she entered her 60's. 

A few Sunday’s later I call as I am on my way over for breakfast, can I bring anything, I’m on my way over? Yes, my mom says, "a man".  

I lose it. “Listen Mom” I say in anger, “I’m not finding you a man, okay? It is not my job to get you a man!,” I yell in my car. “Tricia, I want you to find me a man!” “Mom, who do you think I am? Do you think I have hanging out of my pockets? What do you think - that I have a catalog full of men to choose from?” I scream so loud I almost lose my voice (and feel instantly bad about it - but I DO like the idea of a catalog full of men ;-). Almost without hesitation she says: “Can you bring the catalog when you come for breakfast?” I shake my head in disbelief.

You have got to be kidding? I have enough on my plate without worrying about trying to get my mother laid. I’m grieving, working full-time, and in the middle of a major renovation on my house. More importantly, I am trying to get her a more specific diagnosis. The hope is that I can get her stabilized on medication to reduce and slow down the progress of the Alzheimer's. This means more doctors, specialists and tests. All my mom wants is for me to find her a man? Fuck, this is unbelievable. 

Except for Kristina and a few other close friends, I'm to embarrassed to tell anyone what's happening. 

To be continued in part 4... 

Sex Drive ~ Part Two

A few weeks later I pick my mum up at her office for an emergency road test (a test she thinks the doctor had requested). But it was me that scheduled it (and begged the road test people for the safety of all those on the road) after she pulled into three lanes of oncoming traffic and nearly killed us both. An hour prior to this incident, we were meeting at my office for lunch. She had gotten lost and parked on the other side of the city. I called the police and reported her as a missing person. That night I drove to her house stole the keys (and the car) and left a note telling her the doctor didn’t want her driving. She refused to listen. I was outsmarted. In the morning she had taken a taxi to my house and used the spare key. 

After the road test a woman calls from the Motor Vehicle's Office. My mother had failed the test. The official letter would be sent to her in the mail. I am devastated. My mother, the strong, courageous independent woman who ran her own company has lost her license. Our lives are changing at a pace I can’t keep up with. 

I vow to do everything in my power to protect her, and help her maintain her independence for as long as possible. I tell her I will find her a driver and he will drive her everywhere she needs to go. I go to bed early that night with the aid of a sleeping pill the doctor has prescribed. 

I wake up in the morning to a voicemail: 

“Hi darling it’s your mother, don’t worry about your mother, she is going to be fine, and you’re going to find me a driver and he’s going to drive me around and screw me...okay darling, bye-bye."

What? Did she really say that? I replay the message over and over again...yes, she said it. Okay. 

I call her and am careful to explain - that the person I hire to drive her will not be her sexual partner. She tells me she understands and that she will be happy with just a driver. 

The following day there is another message: 

“Hi darling it’s your mother. Have you found me a driver yet? Make sure he can get a hard-on...Okay? I love you, bye-bye”. 

Okay, in all honesty, I’m devastated, but I laugh my head off at the message. I think it is so funny I can’t believe it. This is not my mother, this is hilarious. But a few moments later, I’m heartbroken, this really is - not my mother. This is the point where her decline really begins.