Where's My Tooth?

My mother was diagnosed with dementia in April of 2009. I know because I was in the middle of my last set of law school exams. I called her on my way home, about 9:00 pm and she did not sound good. My mother has always been a hermit and prone to isolating herself for days at a time. Not answering the phone or the door if she didn't feel like it. She cherished privacy and "goddamn it, if I want to stay up all night and read and sleep all day then I've earned it. I'm retired!" If we didn't hear from her for weeks we considered it normal. She always called eventually.

I had not talked to her for several days, but I knew immediately that things were not right. She was slurring her words and not making sense. "Mom, I'm coming over, I can tell something's not right." "Hell, I'm just old and tired. I don't want anybody coming over. Leave me alone and just let me go."
WHAT? What is that supposed to mean? That was new, she had never said something like that before.

I called Jesse and told him to find someone to come over and stay with the twins because I knew it was going to be a long night.

He and I went over there and thank God I had a key. She was in her recliner, in a haze of cigarette smoke; dirty dishes and old food on the counters. She couldn't even stand up when we came in. Jesse had to carry her to the car. She weighed about 80 pounds. She had forgotten to eat and to take her blood pressure medicine. She looked out at the night and asked me if it was day or night. I asked her who the President was and she said "that actor." I left it alone. That was the last evening she spent at her home.

All night in the ER waiting for tests results. Every few minutes my mom would say "Sharon, I have to ask you something... Where's my tooth?" Her "flapper tooth" was somewhere in her house, it was the least of my worries when I found her. "Mom, it's at your house. We'll get it later."

"OK."

"Sharon, where are we?"

"At the hospital mom."

"OK, but what I really want to know is where's my tooth?"

 "At your house, we'll get it later."

 "OK."

"Sharon, where's my goddamn tooth?"

"Same place it was 5 minutes ago when you asked."

 "Where's that?"

"AT YOUR HOUSE." I am not proud to say that I was not very patient that night. Exams, exhaustion, worry, and fear overrode everything else.

"Why are you yelling? All I want to know is..."

"Don't say it mom."

"... where's my tooth?"

ARGH*%&&%$#**(()^%$$... I said it all inside my head.

This search for the tooth would continue for the next 2 1/2 years because she would lose it contantly. More episodes of "Where's my Tooth" are coming soon. :)