Not too many of my friends are in my peculiar situation. They call me part of the sandwich generation. Someone who takes care of young children, and old children...namely, parents. My mother had me when she was 41, and I was the last of 5 living children and 3 miscarriages. My mother is now 76, and suffers from a number of ailments. She has been diagnosed with congestive heart failure, a condition that people can live years with if they diet and exercise, and take meds for it. She has diabetes, gout, inactive thyroid, and she is going blind. Because she has not taken good care of her diabetes, her eyes are now suffering from macular degeneration. She has high blood pressure, and she is obese. Her pill box looks like candy heaven. She still speaks rationally, lives on her own, and sort of takes care of herself. Sort of being the question today. When is it time to place someone? We always talk about how it's so much better if they can remain in their own home as long as possible, even to die. But is that the honest answer? I used to think so, and was prepared to have to arrange for homecare nurses and such as the years went on.
My mother used to be someone who thrived on going out. She went out every morning for breakfast at her McDonalds, and loved being able to get her eggie sandwich, and senior coffee. She used to eat her lunch every day at Heartland, to the point where she even starred in a commercial for them. She loved to shop, and she loved to read. She loved caring for her yard too. Housework, well, not so much. I can honestly say I inherited my inability to keep house from my mother. So I think about this woman I knew, back in the day....and wonder what to do with the woman I see now. The woman that lives with me now doesn't like to go out. She doesn't want to bathe, and has an incontinence problem. She can't hardly read anymore, and the only thing she looks forward to every day is pestering the bullshit out of me to get her fast food and toilet paper. She has no routine other than sleeping, eating, wetting or messing herself, and watching tv. She goes months without bathing, even when I cajole, tease, threaten, and push. She is the woman of 1000 excuses.
My siblings want her in a home immediately. She wants no part of it, of course. The law states that no one can force someone into a home when that person has not been deemed mentally incompetant to make medical decisions for themselves. She, of course is not mentally incompetant. But what is it that keeps her from doing the bare basics of caring for herself? I have thought on it alot, and there just doesn't seem to be an answer. If she's incompetant, then she isn't capable of caring for her basic needs. But she isn't, so then she is refusing? to care for herself? Is it laziness? Is she in too much pain? One of her excuses is that she's "so tired". Another is that "she's sick today". Well, she claims that for 2 or 3 days of every week.
This last visit her doctor was quite frank with her. He told her that he could order a safety visit from the state at any time. This disturbed her marginally, but not to the extent that it should have. He told her that she wasn't proving that she was fit to live on her own. And that she should consider making the decision to move into assisted care on her own, before the decision is taken away from her. She just blinked at him and looked away. My relationship with my mother has deteriorated to something awful. I can't talk with her without becoming full of rage at her situation. At her especially. She knows this, and becomes petty and spiteful. I feel trapped and cornered. She feels neglected and unloved. What a life.
My neighbor and I were chatting, as she is a retired nursing home CNA. She, of course is pro-assisted living. They have programs there, she tells me. They have structure...she'll be clean, and exercizing, and healthier. She'll have friends. But convince my mother of this. She doesn't want friends, she'll tell you, because they are all on death's door anyways. And as for the assisted living communities, they don't get her medications right. They don't know what they are doing. My neighbor then smugly reminds me, just to drive the knife in a bit further, that should something happen to my mother as she lives here, it will be my responsibility as I am considered her primary care giver. Nice.
I don't know what the answer is this time. And I'm afraid that the decision to not make a decision will haunt me. I do love this woman, but god help me, I don't know how to show it anymore.
