If you’re expecting a post about Star Wars, I have to disappoint you as this won’t be it. But it’s the best fitting title that jumped into my head to describe the madness of today.
My start to the week, Monday, started with a call from the hospital. Mom’s wounds are healing well enough for her to be discharged, most likely on Wednesday. There was confusion since Mom demanded on coming home, not the nursing home, but coming home. Although, and with power of attorney, it seemed like there wasn’t much I could do and the hospital said that she was still capable of making her own decisions. To please stop by and to perhaps talk to her prior to her discharge. I could feel panic beginning to take over my body and immediately felt sick. I didn’t know what to do at first.
Mom is no condition to come home into her house, and continually requires medical assistance. One huge problem is that she doesn’t realize it, and can’t see it because of the illness. There is denial and not knowing, not understanding and not remembering. It’s very tough on the sidelines. There is my bed that I assembled, the one she later didn’t remember anymore and she would flip out if she saw it. The other thing that got assembled are two patio chairs and a table that is hers, which I’m sure she will not like either. Her mattress is in the garage and needs to be disposed. She will continue to claim that she only spilled tea on it and I wish it was so. Two of her kitchen chairs are up in the attic and ruined from incontinence. More tea according to her. It’s a mess all the way around.
I called and luckily I got to meet with her family doctor. He pretty much just confirmed what I already knew and couldn’t discuss much because of the privacy act. All he could do was listen and gently guide me to talk to a doctor at the hospital, explaining the situation again that Mom’s House is not set up for the care she requires. That she needs professional care 24/7, care that I cannot provide for her no matter how much I would want to. It’s always the same and what I truly need is someone else for once trying to take a stab at telling Mom. I have no rank or say so whatsoever with her. I’m the lowest in the totem pole regardless of being her daughter. I am the one who left her behind, and somehow in her mind it’s not worthy to be forgiven. No matter how much i have sacrificed or done so far for her. She will tell me in a heartbeat that it was my choice to come and that i didn’t have to. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. We had some wonderful moments together since I got here, moments that we have been closer than ever. When things go bad, she will always be the boss and exert her power of me. When the illness takes over she will put me in my place and I can feel the day coming when I will have to walk away to safe myself. I can even deal with it and somehow find a way to not engage, to realize that there is no winning in this mad battle, but I always get dragged into the mud when it comes to here coming home. As if I am the one not allowing it, the one who is responsible for her illness and her future. She does take ownership or responsibility. She deflects blame instead and again I remind myself of the horrible illness.
I indeed got to talk to a doctor at the hospital and pleated my case. The confusion the cleared to some extend by letting him know that here care is set up at the senior home. The hospital was confused since Mom was picked up from there, but said she wasn’t going back there again and was going home. It should have never even been an option, and I should have never even gotten thrown in the middle of this. I’m sure everything was in her paperwork, so why drag me into it and make it sound like it was my choice? Mom clearly thinks that it is not up to me to decide, and that she is going to show me what’s up. She banished me from her apartment, wanted her house keys and later threw me out of her hospital room. I am afraid she is going to cause a scene in the ambulance and I’m still afraid that it will show up in front of the house regardless. I can’t even imagine what to do then. Refuse it of course since she can’t survive here, but can you imagine if it came to that? I will have to call the hospital again tomorrow to check on the status and ensure this is not happening. She will not be happy either way and might not ever want to see me again. She voiced again today that she rather be dead instead of going back to the senior home. That she was taken care of there and had it good, but she rather be dead then to return. How can I help with this and mind-frame that clearly is sick?