bankbook

 

One of the most serious problems of my mother who had Alzheimer’s disease was repeatedly losing bankbooks. We reissued her bankbooks again and again. After we reissued, the lost old bankbooks would be found, but these were already invalid. However, the new bankbooks would get lost again. We could not deposit money from the banks. To take care of my mother, we needed money.

At that time, my mother had a secretary and an accountant. One day they asked me to keep my mother’s bankbooks. I felt odd because I assumed children should not read parents’ bankbooks. I did not realize Alzheimer’s disease could cause a situation like this. I kept my mother’s bankbooks, but I did not read them. I just put them in my desk.

One day, when I came back home, my mother was angry and said, “Do you know where my bankbooks are?”

I answered honestly, “Your secretary and accountant asked me to keep your bankbooks.”

She got angrier and said, “Don’t touch my bankbooks! Give them back to me immediately!”

I did not have a choice, so I gave her back the bankbooks.

After a few days, the secretary and the accountant extremely scolded me. “She will lose the bankbooks soon. You do not know how complicated the required processes are to reissue the bankbooks!”

They were right. My mother repeatedly lost the bankbooks.

The solution I thought of was to fake the bankbooks. First, I pretended we lost my mother’s bankbooks to the banks so they would give us new ones. Second, I gave my mother old invalid bankbooks then kept the new ones. When my mother insisted she lost the bankbooks, I pretended to look for the bankbooks. Secretly, I would put the new bankbooks where my mother could find them. I let her find the new bankbooks by herself. After she found them and attended to something else, I would take back the new bankbooks and keep them.

To prevent my mother from realizing that her bankbooks were invalid or from using her bankbooks, I always needed to put enough money in her wallet.

It was so complicated and bothersome. Furthermore, I felt guilty as I tricked my mother and the banks. However, I could not find a better way to solve it.

Some older people tend to feel secure when they view their bankbooks, but I feel otherwise.

Picture by Graphs

 

 

Disgrace to the World

Minakata Kumagusu (1867–1941) was a Japanese author, biologist, naturalist, and ethnologist. He worked internationally. He would sometimes contribute an article to a foreign magazine. However, he was famous as a kind of freak.

Once, he argued with a governor on a government policy. Kumagusu picked up mushrooms in a mountain and put them into a bag. Then he visited the governor’s house and threw the bag to the governor’s head. Kumagusu was immediately caught by the governor’s supporters and was arrested by the police. After the police scolded him, he was released. When he met his granddaughter, he explained the incident like a heroic story: “I beat up most of his supporters, but there were too many supporters. So finally I was caught.”

I read this story on a newspaper that interviewed his granddaughter. I wondered, Why mushrooms? He was a genius. He might have a reason that I could not understand.

Afterward, he wrote bad things about the governor on foreign magazines. Kumagusu boasted about them on his book and wrote, “Disgrace to the world!”

I just thought of never fighting against any governors and geniuses.

Picture by Anastasia Lembrik

 

Shopping

 

My mother had a successful life. She turned her hobby into her job. But this also meant that she was hobbyless. When she was active, she had really busy days. I think her recreational activity was shopping. Every weekend, she and my father would get into their car and head out to shop. Both of them had grown up during WWII. During those days, there had been shortages of various supplies in Japan. Hence, for my parents, shopping could be the most attractive leisurely activity.

About seven years later, after my mother had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, she attended adult day care daily. But, this was not an option on Sundays. Hence, my father would take her shopping on Sundays. But he ultimately passed away. My wife was busy on Sundays because she was a stage lighting artist. That meant that I had to stay with my mother at our house because we could not leave her alone. If she had gone out, she could have gone missing.

During those days, we spent Sundays shopping. The nearest small supermarket was half an hour’s walk away. We would walk to the supermarket slowly. It was said that walking was good for those who had Alzheimer’s disease. After we arrived at the supermarket, I would give my mother a shopping basket and say, “You can buy anything you want.” Then I would leave her alone and go to the smoking area. All exits were visible from the smoking area. So there was no possibility of her leaving the supermarket and getting lost. After smoking, I would reenter the supermarket and find my mother. She usually had something in her basket. We would pay for that and go back home, where I would cook the food she had selected.

Sometimes this worked; sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes I didn’t know how to cook the food my mother had chosen. When that was the case, I would wait for my wife to come back from work and ask her, “Do you know how to cook this food?” When the answer was positive, she would cook the item for us on the next day. However, sometimes even my wife didn’t know how to cook the food. I had previously assumed that a supermarket would sell only food that was familiar to us. But my mother sometimes picked up food items that were unknown to us: “Hey mom, even you have never cooked this food. I know because I have never eaten it!”

Farmers and fishermen, I own you an apology. Sometimes we had to dump the food because we didn’t know how to cook it. But please forgive us: After shopping, my mother would appear to be very happy.

Picture by Sato