I have developed a stuffy nose and had a hard time sleeping last night. I was finally sleeping comfortably when Mom stirred, at the dreadful hour of 7:30 a.m. (it's dreadful when you didn't get to sleep until after three). She was fairly coherent, used the bathroom, and took her pills, and then went back to bed. James was home today, so we might both be sleeping late, so before going back to bed myself I pulled on some clothes and took the garbage out (since we can't leave it outside because of the feral cats).

I got up about ten or afterwards, still feeling tired. James went out for a while, including "hunting" down more boneless pork loin, chicken wings, and turkey legs at BJs. I was up and down the stairs about every half hour, but Mom didn't stir until dinnertime, except at four when I gave her medication, which she took, half asleep. At dinnertime, which wasn't until almost 8 p.m., she was raspy and fairly incoherent and echolalic. I would ask her a question and she would answer, repeating it at least a half dozen times. This time it took both James and I to get her up and to and from the bathroom. When I asked her if she wanted the television on, she said it was a silly name and asked what a television was.

I tried to take it easy today, not wanting this stuffy nose or cold to develop any further, taking some preventive meds. When I wasn't checking on Mom I was re-reading Airport and dubbing off A Sentimental Journey: America in the '40s (Reader's Digest special that was on PBS, run time nearly three hours) and Irving Berlin's America. My DVD of 7 Faces of Dr. Lao had come, so we watched that after Mom was tucked back into bed.

Maybe I'm going to sound mean or callous now, but I am wishing that some night she just passes away quietly in her sleep. I pray for it at night. It is hard enough seeing anyone weak and disoriented, but it's even harder seeing this in my mother. She was always a little thing, 5'2" just like me, but with more chuzpah than I could ever hope to have. She always spoke up for herself and knew her own mind. When the girls she worked with at the factory wanted to speak to management, Mom was usually the person they chose to represent them. She wasn't afraid to talk to the supervisors. When she was pressed to get married because she "wasn't getting any younger," she preferred to be an "old maid" before she went into a relationship with someone who would order her about or even worse, bully or abuse her as she had seen in other relationships. She wanted to be independent as long as possible and didn't get married until she was thirty because of it. Dad provided our income for half of my childhood, took care of his family, cared for our things, his car, our house, our yard. But Mom was most often the mover and shaker, and they never did anything without one consulting the other. When Dad died Mom picked up her life, learned to drive, and took care of herself again. She didn't go looking for another man to take care of her.

So knowing that and seeing her nearly as helpless as an infant and bewildered and without direction is difficult. All I can hope is that I'm doing all the right things and smoothing the way for her. I can only pray for a release that will set her free.

----------------------------------------------------------------
. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 10:17:00 PM

Comments:

I am impressed by how well you seem to handling an impossible situation, and thinking of both you and your mother. Take care of yourself, as much as you can.

# posted by  FiveAcres : 9:43:00 AM

 

Post a Comment