I’ve been thinking lately a lot about ships. The ones which pass on the horizon and the ones which sink.

My mum and I are somewhere in between, but I feel we’re taking on water. We’re beginning to list, sometimes to port, sometimes to starboard. I don’t believe we’re about to plunge suddenly into the depths. We’re no Titanic about to split in half and go down while the band plays on. We’re more like a boat with the captain wondering how the heck we got out here so far from shore. Or on a dory or a trawler, or a tugboat which lost its way.

Regardless, on we sail attempting to plug the leaks where we find them. Doing a periodic walkabout from stem to stern with a cart full of rags to plug whatever breaches we may find. Thankfully, so far they have been manageable to a greater or lesser degree. But we are definitely riding lower in the water than when we set off a few years ago.

The other day we went to my mother’s doctor. Apart from a toe fungus, which her doctor says we are managing well, my mother is in pretty good shape. Blood pressure: good; heart and lungs: good; iron: good. She can still walk, though not too far. She can still get up the stairs to our condo, slowly, of course, and with the use of her cane. And we have the push chair for outings. Yesterday, a man from Victoria Lifeline came to change out her call button as the battery was running low. (How they know this I’m not sure.) So help is but the push of a button away. And we have telephone numbers we can call for advice from Geriatric Services and the Alzheimer’s Society.

We went to the South Beach Casino with friends last week. We had a wonderful time playing the machines and had a delicious lunch. (We went out with $60.00 and came back with $59.00! Not bad for an afternoon out.) She was animated, talking and laughing with our friends. But did she remember it? Not so much. She forgot she had called our friend’s house as soon as we arrived home to thank them for a lovely time. Then fifteen minutes later she wanted to call them to thank them for such a lovely time, until I reminded her, “Mum, you just spoke to them.” “Did I?” She did not quite believe me. “Yes, Mum.” “Oh, okay. Thank you. I don’t want them to think I’m losing it.”

And the next day, she can’t recall going to the casino at all.

But she’s pretty good for a 92-year-old gal, though one does have to take with a grain of salt her claims that she has a good memory and that she can still hold a conversation. Yes to the latter, but a qualified no to the former.

Her sense of time is erratic. She’ll insist so many things happened only a few weeks ago, like the passing of my stepfather who passed away in 2020, over three years a go. And that she only came to live with me last month. It’s painful to watch the confusion arise in her face when she realizes she may not be right after all. “Let’s not talk about it,” she might say or she might stick to her guns. In any case, I desist and ask her what she would like for supper or what TV shows she wants to watch.

And her sense of geography can be equally erratic. Sometimes she seems to think we live out in the country when we live only a half-hour drive away from the heart of the downtown.

Minor things to be sure, but we don’t argue about them. We have more important things to concern ourselves with.

So, adrift at sea? Not quite. And although we may not know where we’re going we’re going there full steam ahead. We don’t really have any other choice.