What a useless emotion guilt is. My mind gets busy in the wee small hours, spinning like a hamster on the wheel about things in my life, my daughter's life, my husband's life, my mother's life-things that are what they are, and yet the guilt creeps in.
Did I miss the signs of my mother's dementia? Sure she was confused sometimes, hunting for a baseball player's name (my mom should coach the Toronto Blue Jays), a politician's name (her other passion), struggling to remember a date-but was I subconsciously enabling her? Was I so used to feeding her the names, information that I missed the signs? I don't know, and it's eating me inside.
One thing I know for certain: even though it didn't show on the MRI, something significant happened to my mom on January 14. Whether the whack on the head triggered the something, or the something triggered the collapse that caused the whack on the head, something critical changed. My mom spiralled down in two weeks, going from managing pretty well on her own to forgetting to eat, forgetting to take her pills and wishing that death would put an end to it all.
After 2 weeks in hospital, she's more stable and alert, but the confusion comes and goes. She was pretty mad at me yesterday morning because she didn't have her pills. I had hidden them when I left the night before because I was afraid she would forget and take them. Turns out, I made the right call because she was looking for her "night time pills." Since hospitalization, there isn't a night time pill any more. I told her where the pills for the morning were, and I have to get the prescriptions filled when the pharmacy opens this morning.
When mom was in the hospital, I didn't have to worry about her falling, forgetting to eat, forgetting to take her meds...it was off my shoulders for awhile. I didn't have to rush right over after dropping my daughter at school. All bets are off now, and home care is supposed to be coming in, but they haven't started yet.
I have articles due, edits due. I have to take care of my daughter, my work, my family...and now my mom again. Somewhere, I also have to squeeze time for me if I want to keep going. I'm going to try to go back to choir tonight. I need something just for me again.
When we were doing daily radiation, we had a couple of days when we didn't go, and it was such a blessed relief not to have to run. Did it make me a bad person to be thankful for a morning when I could sit rather than sprint? Probably not, but I felt like one.
Guilt is such a waste of energy, and yet it creeps in. Maybe it's the Catholic in me, maybe the Irish. At any event, it's another dragon to slay, but later. The kid has to get to school first.
Forget the guilt,Lisa. As the saying goes: do your best and forget the rest.(actually the real saying has another F word instead of forget, but same meaning!)
ReplyDeleteI have a mom with early dementia, who calls the ambulance at the slightest off-feeling. Then,the run of cancelling the home workers and various appointments, rounding up her clothing and personal care products, finding time for the hospital visits and trying to communicate with nurses and doctors...begins.
And nothing changes. Then, it's the task of getting her back into her routine.
But, I'm lucky. I'm in an openfaced sandwich.
Hugs, Lisa. Don't you wish the part of us that knows guilt is useless could conquer the other part? I'm glad you're going back to choir because you probably need it.
ReplyDeleteBeing the chicken salad isn't for the faint of heart, that's for sure. Yes, you must go to choir or whatever else gives you personal satisfaction. It is the ONLY way to save your own sanity for all of those you care for and about.
ReplyDeleteGuilt is, without doubt, the most useless feeling ever created - and thanks to all our churches, mothers and teachers for bestowing it upon us. You do what you can, when you can, to the best of your ability at that moment - and that's all you can do. Hugs. It's ain't easy being the filling!
When you think about it, it's really the filling that keeps the sandwich together. Without the filling, a sandwich is just two slices of bread. It isn't even a sandwich. Not sure where I'm going with this, so I'm going to stop now.
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