It has become an unusual phenomenon as of late that there are three of me. Mom refers to Donna her daughter (#1), Donna the caregiver (#2), and Donna the director of the home where she lives (#3). They seem to be three distinct roles. In her mind, they are not related; they only share the same name. It is curious to me she wouldn’t think they know each other, but she is often certain that I don’t know the Donna of whom she is speaking.
I first started noticing it towards the end of the summer. Many times she would call me by name but would be looking for one of the other Donnas. She gets the caregiver and the daughter mixed up occasionally. The director #3 Donna is usually spoken about in the abstract. She’s the bossy one who make things in this home run smoothly. She is sometimes quite critical of the décor in this place. It’s a bit cluttered and fussy, but she does concede it’s okay as long as she is comfortable.
She has told many folks the back porch is “Donna’s porch.” I’ve done some rearranging to put a work/office space and an art studio space. If we are eating together at the table, she’ll often mention that it’s Donna’s (#3) stuff. If I pick something up from one of the tables, she’ll warn me to “leave Donna’s things alone because she doesn’t like for people to mess with her things.” When I assure her I have asked permission, she relaxes slightly but reminds me to put things back when I am finished. Apparently, Donna #3 runs a tight ship and should not be bothered. Occasionally she’ll tell me she really likes living in this facility and wonders where everyone else has gone today. When I say I’m not sure of the schedule today, she acts quite surprised. Each Donna is supposed know everything.
When I am spending the night, I am Donna the caregiver #2. If she doesn’t want to do something, she’ll tell me to call Dwight or Donna. Since they are family, they wouldn’t make her do what she doesn’t want to do. Sometimes she’ll warn me that she’ll tell Donna #1 on me if I don’t acquiesce to her demands. Donna #2 is allowed to do the grunt work. This is the Donna who lives with her most of the time. When I return from some time away, she’ll wonder from what room I came.
Her daughter Donna #1 is very busy. I get tickled when Mom describes her life. She usually starts by saying, “Do you know my Donna?” She’ll proceed to tell them about conversations she’s had with Donna #1. This Donna teaches lessons and works at a church and has three small children. She’s still looking for herself, trying to find her calling. She drops by occasionally but doesn’t stay very long. Sometimes it’s okay that Donna #1 isn’t here. Other times, Mom really misses her. In an instant, she can slip from knowing I’m Donna #1 to thinking I’m Donna #2. Since they fulfill different roles in her life, I try to keep up with who’s who. The two roles are somewhat interchangeable but not the same. Apparently they look similar. If the visitor suggests that I might be Donna #1, Mom just laughs.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot since it began. Maybe she doesn’t like the idea of her daughter caring for her in such an intimate way. Maybe she doesn’t want to believe her daughter would make her do things against her will. She often can’t believe Donna #2 would make her bathe, change clothes, or eat. When I try to divert her by saying she made me eat and bathe when I was a child, she’ll growl at me that she didn’t know me as a child. If I need to take care of someone, maybe I should take care of my own mother! If she doesn’t like her lunch choices. She’ll ask to speak to Donna #3 so she can get things going better around here. She realizes that I don’t have any authority around here, but she knows someone who does!
My past years of caregiving really help in those situations. I can simply care for her without the emotional weight of her not knowing me. I’m simply here to love her and make certain she is safe and clean. When I first started working in caregiving, I tried to think of each person as if he were my grandparent or parent or sibling. Now I have the privilege of caring for the woman who took care of me.
It’s an honor for all three of the Donnas.
