This blog has turned into my own personal Wailing Wall, no disrespect intended. I need a place to place all my convoluted emotions. Stick 'em and walk away. Advice not needed. Just purging my thoughts.
My mom drains my energy, just like you can suck all the juice out of an orange. We're all recovering from a wicked cold now, sore throats mostly gone, with lingering coughs. Mom has escaped it, as has my husband. Thankful for that.
Three of my tribe have gone to church, and youngest son and middle daughter are here, along with my mom. Sleeping still. She'll sleep in if we don't wake her, and I relish postponing the morning routine with her. Too much like dealing with an infant, but it messes with my head, as middle daughter says, because Mom's no baby. Same tasks, though. Funny thing. She will sleep hard, wake up when I finally work up my courage to stir her, then say she's been up since 8. As my husband says....Pants on fire.
Have kept her isolated as much as possible in the bedroom. Her coughing reflex is very poor since her first stroke, and not sure a heavy cold could easily be thrown off. Her brain activity is slow and minimal anyhow, so she easily entertains herself. Odd how she'll do small tasks repetitively. I'll sometimes watch her secretively by the door. She'll take her phone out of the cloth bag on her walker, look at it, close it up and put it back. Then she'll comb her hair, put back her comb, then take out her phone again. Then she will sit there, staring at her hands. Dig in that bag and begin again. Even in the room with us, it requires all her focus to engage, and even then, she gets lost in the conversations.
Brain injuries are fascinating and awful.
Still puzzle over how 5 months ago she was living alone. Brain aneurysm in September, 3 months of rehab, and she can't get up out of bed or get into bed without help. Lots of help. She can't seem to muster the movement where you use the hinge at your hip to sit up. She will pivot at about a 60 degree angle. Then you have to stuff pillows at her back so she can gain purchase. Then she will grab your hands or the walker. I have to remind her to grasp the walker, and then she has do a shuffle of sorts, leaning her legs rigid against the bed in order to stand up. I personally believe the rehab failed in reteaching her the act of getting up and down. But that's just me.
I hate parts my life now, a sizable chunk. I hate that my family, my daughters especially after their other brothers betrayal, are having to deal with another hard thing. That my brothers are so casual about our mom living here. How their lives run along smoothly and I'm here having fits. How my oldest brother wants to walk away from Mom's house responsibility thinking he's doing me a big favor by not taking any part in the eventual inheritance. Won't be sizable anyhow since she has two loans against the house. Cleanout help from them with her house and my dad's workshop? You've got to be kidding me. I would've been better off as an only child, and that's not an exaggeration. Brothers emotionally absent.
My husband has been awesome through this whole journey. Never shying away from helping dress her, or having to tackle the messy bits. I scored really big when we married. He says in regards to my mom's care, he doesn't want there to be any regrets. My only regrets are out of my hands.
I just pray daily for the mental and physical fortitude to finish this race with her and have some of my life leftover. That shouldn't be too much to ask.