Somedays Are Like That

Caring for an aging parent is often difficult. Fo me, it has been something that has recently gotten me back into therapy. The only other two times I have gone for therapy were when I was going through divorce.  Generally speaking, I am one to work through my challenging times with my huge love for finding my answers in current books, meditation, dreams, teachers, prayers, or by reaching out to friends and family for guidance. 

But last Monday, Labor Day Barbecue at my daughters, I just felt myself tipping over the edge of my sanity when dealing with my Mom, and sliding uncontrollably down the slippery slope of the other side.  She was absolutely horrid to me.  Horrid in the most frustrating way because no one else can really see it or feel it.  Only Mom knows, from our history, my buttons. Brooke picks up on it.  She is my partner in caring for Mom.  The only one who continues to go back, like me.  Tuesday found me on the phone, through tears, trying to find someone to see, and Wednesday morning there I sat on the proverbial therapist's couch.

I purged.  She smiled.  And stopped me and easily asked me, "OK.  Which thing do you want to talk about first?"

I smiled too.  And laughed a short laugh at my own self.  My floodgates are very strong, eh?  They were holding a helluva lot.

My Mom, of course.

She listened, had some good things to say, and sent me home with the assignment to read The Dance of Intimacy by Harriet Lerner.

Of course I got it immediately.  While reading the book and trying to find equilibrum, Mom gets sick. A bad case of the flu and a horribly painful flare-up of gout in her foot.  And my heart breaks for her.  Poor old woman feeling sick as a dog, horrible diarrhea and can barely walk...trying to shuffle down the hall with her walker, and make it to the toilet in time.  It makes me tear up right now just writing about it.

So Brooke and I tag team and try to work our own jobs while caring for her.  And she is sitting in her chair in her room, held hostage by age and physical limitations. (Oh, and I should mention that her phone quits working too, and her Lifeline support system is out with the phone.)  She is really a hostage - and she mellows.  She softens  out of necessity.  And I think she begins see more clearly from behind the prison bars of helplessness, that we are kind and loving to her. That we are the two dependable constants.  And then the unbelievable happens:  My Mom seems grateful.

But still, the weekend comes, Mom is feeling better and longs for some fresh air, and I am dreading the visit.  Her mood is still grateful and kind on the phone. (Although I did not buy the right toilet paper and she absolutley has to go to CVS and pick out her own) But she can turn in the blink of an eye. I know I have to go (because that's who I am) and I drive there praying out loud for patience and grace. 

I realize that part of the why of not going that I am feeling has to do with the daughter part of me that wants to stay in this place of grace.  Freeze time.  Part of me wants to believe that this is the time that will remain until she leaves this world...

OK, now hear this:

It was a great day.  One that we both seemed to enjoy completely!

I don't know why for sure.  Partly because she was still weak from the flu and didn't expect me to schlep her all over the county.  We went to CVS.  And then to Radio Shack so I could get a webcam and join the world of Skyping. Then to the fruit stand and home.  On the way I went by my house and picked up my laptop so we could have a chat with the Chicago family.

She was hungry for an old bean dish she used to love and I told her (that while I wasn't so sure about beans as her first solid meal) I would make them for her.  We cooked together.  We had a great, fun half hour Skype session with Shannon, Isaac, Ike and Fiona.  She had a glass of wine.  She was so sad because she could barely keep her glass from spilling since her hands shook so bad because her Parkinsons was getting worse...so I made the act of needing a straw fun, and added a drink umbrella thing she had in a drawer.  It made her laugh.  I found a Stevia cola in her fridge and even made myself a cocktail! 

 

 

We watched a movie, chatted and I knitted. Had dinner together.  And this was the first time that I can remember in forever that she just thanked me (again and again) for a nice day and didn't say, even once, "Oh you're leaving already?"

She just thanked me and told me she loved me.

The drive home had my heart feeling peace.  And the sunset was yet another gift. A message from The Universe that this was, in fact, the time that things wouldn't change back to horrible? I will believe that for as long as I can...

 

 

 

Comments

[Dona Morrison]

Thank You!!! In your infinite wisdom, you have sent me a neon message that even though my mom at a 'young' 79 yo who is in the deep dark depths of alzheimers and pretty much living in a 1 1/2 - 2 year old world 'but' because she had a gloriously happy childhood her world is an extremely happy place to be! Everyone is her friend and she welcomes everyone with a huge smile! Compared to your dealings, even with some moments of love & gratitude coming from your mom to you, I shall no longer feel like I (and my siblings) picked the short straw when it came to mamas in their golden years!

I send you peace. You have such a kind soul.~~~Dona

[kim]

Yes, taking care of an elderly parent is so hard. Because they are losing their independence, they try desperately in so many ways to hold onto it, even via trying to elicit emotional responses from people--to see if they still have the power to do that. I try to remember and follow the Dalai Lama's advice (about how to be in all situations): "Don't take anything personally." It is one of the most difficult things to do, verging on impossible! But when I meditate on it, it really makes sense: the way people behave is about them and not about the people around them. Best wishes to you and your mom.

[J]

Oh, to have you come and see me at my blog, and then to come here and read this...I'm in tears. I remember this so very well. My mom was so difficult when she was ill, and it was so hard for me to not take it personally. She was SO independent, and truly hated relying on other people. So she tended to be brusque about it, and bossy, and grumpy. It was difficult, because that wasn't the mom that I grew up with, or that I had become friends with as an adult (that sounds like we weren't friends when I was a kid...we were...it's just different when you're both adults with kids of your own, you know? Deeper in a way.). And she was on anti-depressants that really changed her personality, and we both hated that. I wanted my mom back. And the good moments, I wanted to freeze those as well. I have so many regrets about those last few months with her. I wish I had been able to help her to eat. I wish I had been more patient. I wish I had understood. But I try to give myself the grace of knowing that truly, I did the best that I could. As did she. Maybe that's some grace you can find for yourself and your mom, in your difficult times...that you're still, through it all, both doing the very best you can. Even if that's not as good as you would like. Hell, even if it's not good enough. Sometimes we can only do what we can do.

And yeah, I went to therapy to help myself cope with her illness as well. It helped. I didn't feel like I could really talk to my husband or friends like I wanted to, because I was SO stressed, I would just start crying and they wanted to give me solutions and it made them uncomfortable to see me in so much pain. Sometimes you need to talk to someone who isn't emotionally invested in your life and your feelings. Therapy is great for that.

Thanks for finding me. And thank you, again, for helping my mom to move to California. That meant so very much to me, to my brother Richard, and to my mom. To have so many online friends reach out helped us feel less isolated in our stress. And of course, it helped financially a great deal.

[Nicole]

Wow. Powerful! Thanks for sharing!