| I'm so afraid. I'm afraid for me, I'm afraid for Mom. There is just no way I can survive this. I keep trying to do the right thing, but she's dying. She's hurting, she's so far away and alone. We so miss eachother. I can't make it better. I have no one to ask what would Mom want, or what would be right for Mom. I see her hurting every time I visit. I see her pain, I cause her pain. I can't make it right for her. I try so damn hard to do the right thing. I try so hard and I fail completely. I can't beat the disease, I don't even know if I truly believe she has alzheimer's. My gut has told me since earlly on that this began with her fall when she lived in Redmond, alone. She woke up one night, and she went to the john. She was taking her blood pressure medicine in the evening which would be the wrong time to take them because her BP would be low already as she'd be at rest, and waking up at night from bed would make her dizzy. So, she went to the john, got up and immediately fell on her big clamshell, and passed out for a bit. She remembered vividly her falling down face forward, and seeing the clamshell scallop (we're talking about 3' long, and about 1' high at the scalloped piece) coming towards her head. She tried to brace herself, and she ended up breaking her pinky (which the Evergreen ER never tended to, it's still bent) and scored her temple. As a testimony to Mom's strength and strong will, she managed to crawl (army on the belly style) back to her bedroom, got the phone to her, and had the presence of mind to phone her friend, Pat. Pat came over and called 911. She then phoned me to tell me Mom was on her way to hospital. I spent about a month at Mom's place taking care of her, and it proved to me that I could not take care of Mom when she lived off-island. So she came here to Whidbey Island, to Maple Ridge which was about 8 minutes away from me, with the intention that this adult community was going to have a full medical facility. That didn't happen and I still feel angry and ripped off. We could have found her a nicer area and place more suited to her needs if that was not part of the proposed deal. 20-20 hindsight is just so crystal clear. She and Dad had always planned for me to have their house as my security, so I would never be a bag-lady like I fear -- being unable to work, when my savings is used up completely, and it has gone fast and furious the past few years, with people living in my house -- it's amazing how bills increase, wear and tear is huge, and taking over Mom's bills, or my treating her or buying her clothing et al, since I feel my money is hers to use, I have made little distinction, well, my giving parents expected me to have their house to keep me sheltered. Well, that blew up in the light of reality. But I so digressed, as is my babbling, free-association talking style. When I last left in the saga, is that Mom had moved here to Whidbey, and we were disappointed with Maple Ridge community not coming through with the plan. Mom started to "rig" her house with "secure" items such as keeping the blinds closed so no one could see in (and effectively keeping her in a "cave" or darkness) an stashing gobs of sneakers at the front door to act as a (very clever of her -- she pleaded ignorance that it made it difficult for her to open the door; rubber on vinyl) and I saw, when I came over at night, when unexpected by her, that she wrapped the cord of the stand up fan, around the inside of her bedroom door so keep people out, and make a helluva noise if they tried to get in -- she's not get caught unaware. She phoned more frequently with fear, and occasionally, I'd sleep over to keep her company in hopes that she'd relax a bit and sleep well. But she was scared, and uncomfortable in her house alone, and she feared the trees would fall on her house. Her protector, Daddy, was not there, and it wore on her nerves and it built up as her strength to be strong lessened with exhaustion So, the next event of concern, was Mom started to get lost driving, and leaving ovens on, and was so depressed, afraid and anxious, and crying a lot. She was so overly emotional. Dr Waite decided he was unable to keep on top of the medicine for her anxiety and depression, each medicine ha a good and bad symptom, and each new dose change, or medicine change would compound symptoms with the way they interract, so he suggeted Mom go to a specialist at an Eldercare GeroPsych ward, and get all her medicine managed in one "swell foop". After about 3-4 days, Mom said, no more - get me home! I took her home. Partially because of a promise I made her that she could come home when she wanted after 5 days, and partially because one time I was there in the evening (the place was in Northgate) she was soooooo heavily sedated it disturbed me. If she stayed another 5 days, she probably would have been stabilized re: her medicine, but she came home for the above mentioned reasons. Now she was in this state of medicinal flux, and she couldn't be alone in my opinion, and this time I was right. She moved in with me and Gordy that November. It was to be a temporary thing, but Mom got less able to drive solo without doing foolish things, and she became more dependent on Gordy and I, and Kim. She had some girlfriends who would meet and play cards or grab food, but that didn't keep her occupied and feeling "safe". She moved into the "cat-free-zone" bedroom with attached bathroom, and in a few months, it became evident that she was chez moi to stay. We could make sure she took her medicine in the right dosage and at the right time, and we could make sure she ate well (Gordy spent many a night thinking hard for something nutritious for her, yet tasty enought to have her want to eat). [BTW, as an aside, her allergies to the cats subsided with her exposure to them, she even would stick her face in their lovely lush fur with no ensuing hives or red eyes] Between Gordy and I, we did pretty well in making her feel as safe as she could feel, and got to her appointments, and remind her of birthdays, and include her in all of those wonderfully magic Coale get-togethers -- Mom thrived on the large family that she always wanted. Kim kept visiting Mom weekly, going out to grab some coffee and chat on their Tuesdays. Kim also would stay all day with my Mother when it was too hard for her to come with me off-island for a MD appointment and procedure. The last time she was with me for a procedure, was greatly appreciated; it was for the breast biopsy that took 2.5 hours, and she was so good, and boy did I need my Mom. But mostly she didn't comprehend much of it, or remember my medical issues. She never really did accept and assimilate when I went out on disability. To this date, she never wrote the letter I requested of her regarding the changes she saw since my disability, but, in the height of his cancer treatments, my amazing Dad came through. No wonder she felt safe with him. The Coales all welcomed her with loving arms. She squished a plethora of Coale babies, and she joined in with a joy that the Coales share to those willing to be embraced by them. And she was delighted to just hang out with the crowd. She felt safe and at home. She was herself, and she and Doris were the Matriarchs. Strange, back then, Mom was the healthier of the two, now Doris has blossomed with her having been in the "adult living home" that is right for her. She is so much more alive and present and laughs so much easier. Her pain is less of a problem unless she pushes herself too hard, but she is funny, and eloquent, and her memory is only minimally "wonky". The contrast between then and now is mind-boggling. Mom is thing and shakey and toothless and unable to eat, or control her bladder, and the pain, oh the pain she is in. Mom, I'm so sorry. But Mom got more and more afraid, and we could not be her 24x7 safety blanket mucd longer, nor would she take help from the care-givers we hired. I caved, and we found what we thought would be a place that is right for Mom to be. We were wrong on so many levels, despite Doctor recommendations, and our opinion, and even my Brother had a good feel of it when he visited in February...and now, we are at this point, just about 7 months later, where Mom is a "ward of the state", and has spent two horrific trips at UGH where they so didn't medicate her properly, and HomePlace "streeted her", and I cry as I watch her in pain and so alone. I will never forget what brought her (t)here, and I will never be able to find forgiveness. I hope that she truly knows I meant well, and that I love her so incredibly much that if love were a drug, she would be healed; living and delighting in a state of health that would make her so happy, and playing with the children, and able to fly free and go wherever she wanted to go, and be with people she wants to be with at her whim, a visit to Jim and his family, or Joan's in CT and playing catch up with her long time friends, and stopping by Terri's and Jenna's and doing the Love-Fest that was Dad's last trip before he died. They had such a good time. I doubt that Mom can conjure up that memory, or that feeling any more. Mom, I love you to health and joy and laughter and twinkling blue eyes, and an appetite to sate with your meals of choice, and your family and friends surrounding and supporting you, and your walking tall and your white hair shining again, and your hugging and squishing babies and those you love. I even wish I had a child for you so you could have had the bigger family you craved. My choices have unintentially hurt you my beautiful proud amazingly funny and smart Mother. I hope that "universe" or "spirit" or "god /dess" or whatever is able to make things happen is kind to you and gives you what you need to rest safe, whatever it is to make you safe and not in pain, I wish for you -- whatever and however it may hurt me. I give you permission, and I give you my love to ease your life journeys. God I love and miss you. xo+ always and all ways my beautiful Bahmu!
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