As most of my readers know, I am caring for my elderly, widowed mom. My dad died in May, 2005, and though my mom still lives independently, in their house, she probably shouldn’t. That is her wish, and I want her to have every opportunity to stay there as long as she can. She no longer drives, and I take her to all her appointments and errands.
Before my dad died, he had retired to take care of her. About the only time he left her alone was when he went golfing, grocery shopping, or to a home (hardware) store. He had even taken over a good bit of the household chores. She had nearly died 2 times, when he was still alive, and none of us ever dreamed that she would outlive him, simply because of her medical problems. She is an insulin-dependent diabetic, has rheumatoid and osteo arthritis, fibromyalgia, failing eyesight, and lots of other ailments. But the thing that is probably the greatest threat to her right now (other than the diabetes) is that she is very off balance when she walks. She refuses to use her walker, except occasionally to go to the mailbox. When I am with her-I am the walker. She holds my hand everywhere we go, and even then she is on the brink of disaster. The other day we went to McDonalds, and I let go of her hand to open the door, and she spun around and almost fell off the curb. I say almost, because I was anticipating that might happen, and I grabbed her quickly. The only time I feel at ease is when she is pushing a shopping cart. (It makes a great walker!)
Monday, I took her for a liver scan, as her liver enzymes have been elevated for over a year. Thursday, I take her for a brain MRI.
The last visit we had with her doctor, he skimmed over the fact that she had been complaining about confusion, and said something like, “So you’re not really confused, right?” She hesitated, and he looked at me and said, “Do you think she is confused?” (What a horrible situation to put me in, to ask in front of her, but there really is no other chance to discuss it.) I told him that I thought she was (about some things.) He then proceeded to run one of his mini-mental status tests. (He had given her one before, and so had her diabetes specialist.) At any rate, he drew the face of a clock, handed her the paper, and then said, “I want you to make this clock say the time I tell you, so that anyone in the waiting room would look, and know what time it is.” (Part of me was praying that he wouldn’t say 10 till 2.) That is what she missed when he tested her last time. (And part of me wanted him to say it, because then he would realize how confused she was at times.) As I held my breath he said, “Okay let’s have you make it…um…10 till 2. Bingo-the challenge was on.
There is no way that I can explain to you the sadness of watching your mom try to draw the right time on a clock. As I said before, she is a very smart lady, and has worked for high ranking officers at the military base in our town. Everywhere she worked as a secretary, she was admired and complimented greatly. But now she cannot draw a clock face. Watching her struggle was heartbreaking. She just couldn’t do it.
My parents had the same doctor for years, but right when my dad was dying in the hospital, he retired. (Bad timing.) At any rate, we had to get another doctor for my mom, and we had heard that this doctor was wonderful. Wonderful and brilliant he may be, but his bedside manner is lacking. At any rate, I felt myself smirk a little inside, when he was forced to say, “Okay–so you are having a little bit of a problem.”
Then it was on to the examining table. He had her hold out her hands, and he flipped his hands from one side to the other, and then asked her to do the same. She made it look more like a game of patty cake, and ended up clapping her hands on one part of it. Then she laughed so cutely-(but I know it was from embarrassment.) She would certainly worry about this later, I knew. A few more tests of coordination,(touch her nose, and then touch his finger) went pretty well. She was on Aricept for a short while, but it caused horrible side effects, and now she is on another drug. She is slowly building up the dosage, watching for more side effects. He said that there was another drug generally used with the new one. It was a patch to be worn daily. (More meds…) He gave her a sample box.
He ordered a liver scan, and a MRI brain scan. We went to the X-ray department to fill out the forms. (Another big challenge for both of us, because I have to get some of the information from her.) She was to bring a list of her medications, and one of all her surgeries on the day of the MRI. I’m not kidding you, when I say that we need a secretary. So much paperwork constantly.
What I am noticing at home is that she doesn’t feel like cleaning the house properly. (She used to have everything smelling sweet and clean.) I have asked her repeatedly to let us get some help for her in that department, but she refuses. I have tried to do a lot myself, but I cannot do all that I need to do with her, and my own house and family, and do all her daily housework also. (She doesn’t want me to, though I try to do as much as I can.) She does get her laundry done. She has always taken pride in the way she does her laundry, and the way she folds it. Eventually she gets her dishes done. She is very good about keeping herself bathed and presentable, so that’s the most important.
I say all these things to let you know, that there are issues that come up continuously when you are a caregiver, with an aging parent. You are hesitant to address some of them, for fear of hurting the person’s feelings, and yet you are worried about the situations.
One night she actually went to the door at 9 p.m. and a young man she had known when he was little, (but isn’t anymore) was there asking for money. She told him to stay there, and she would be back. He had walked a little ways down her hall when she came back. She gave him $10.00. She told me she was scared. She said she wasn’t telling me to worry me, but that she wanted me to know. I calmly tried to tell her to not ever open the door, unless she knew that a certain person was coming, and had told her so in advance. Then I said, we (family) will always call, or call out to you. Anyone else can go away and call, if they really need to reach you. She agreed about the nighttime visitors, but still insists on going to the door in the daytime. (We all know that no one is safe just because it is daytime anymore, but once again, she is stubborn, and insists on answering the door when it’s daylight.) I told her that when my daughter was little, I taught her to be very quiet when the doorbell rang, so that no one would know we were home. I never answered the door unless I knew a certain person was coming. It’s not safe to just open the door anymore. (Recently, there was a home invasion in our neighborhood. People answered the door at about 3:00 a.m., and the intruders pushed right in, and tied up a lady and her grown son, and robbed them. But there have been robberies in our town in the middle of the day as well.
Okay, so I know you’re tired of reading this. I use my blog as therapy sometimes. It’s a way to write out all my frustrations.
I love my mom so very much, but I hope that when I am older, I will not be so stubborn. She fights against so many things, and it leaves me feeling totally helpless. I am worried about the future, and how much longer she can live alone, and I am worried about whether I can care for her properly at my house, as time goes on. I guess it depends on how feeble she gets, and how her mind is. She definitely has a mind of her own about so many things.
I guess that I am sad that she has to get old and frail. I worry so much that I make myself sick. I stay up at night, trying to get my mind off of the way things are going, and all my concerns about her. I am so bonded with her now, because I have cared for her for the past 2 years, and we have been a team. I expect a lot of myself-too much really. The stress of her physical, and now declining mental state, has left me horrified. I think of all the people who deal with this daily, and I think of children dealing with parents with Alzheimer’s, and I wonder how they do it. I have watched several documentaries about it, and there is very little that is sadder.
There are many types of dementia, other than Alzheimer’s, and none of them are pretty. I find myself trying to minimize to my mom what I am seeing, because I know that she knows a lot of it, and is very worried about where it might lead.
I try to give all this to God, but sometimes I get mad. I get mad because my dad died, and he was supposed to be here to help her through old age. I get mad because my nervous system is whacked, and I can never relax. I get mad because life is so difficult right now, and I feel on the verge of collapse. (But I never get mad at her-not where she would know.) God has given me incredible gentleness and compassion for her, and a great love as well. We have not always been this close, but this was something good that came out of my father’s death, and that was that we became closer, and many things have mended between us, just because of our closeness now.
I know that I cannot give her immortality. (I learned this in counseling.) I also know that I cannot make her happy. (Another great jewel from counseling.) I know it in my head, but it just hasn’t reached my heart yet. I want to cry a lot of times, but lately I rarely do. I guess it takes too much energy that I don’t have.
I do have a brother. He has lunch with my mom every day that he works, and he does the grocery shopping, because I had a torn rotator cuff that has left my arm very weakened. But she and I do a fair amount of grocery shopping ourselves. There is always butter, milk, eggs, bread, etc., that is needed. So we supplement his larger trips. Other than the groceries, and a few handyman jobs, I do feel the greatest burden of her care is definitely on me. I don’t mind that, (I love her greatly) but I am just beginning to feel the extreme pressure of it all, and more than that, am worried about where it goes from here.
My greatest self discipline will be to take it one day at a time. I cannot solve next week’s problems, or next year’s. So I must live in the present, and deal with today’s problems, trusting that God will give me the grace I need to face the rest. Whenever I am down, He will always raise me up…