When life happens

It was last Saturday evening that I was starting to get sick. A little discomfort here and there, still hopeful that it would pass. By Sunday morning I was in the midsts of a violent, full blown RA flare up, bringing some new symptoms never experienced before. If I never had a migraine in my life, this definitely was one. My eyes kept going cross eyed and I couldn’t shake the pounding in my head. Not even three Advil’s did the trick. All I wanted to do is sleep. There was dizziness and hot flashes. I felt lethargic with no energy, at times not even capable of forming a thought. I don’t even know how I managed the trip to the store to get medicine, and luckily I didn’t have to drive or go alone.

Another symptom were throbbing pains, especially in my hands. Walking was also painful, although partially because of a bad sunburn acquired from expired sunscreen. There wouldn’t be much to do of anything besides sleep and praying to get better. Within a few hours of running a rheumatic fever, the blisters developed on most of my upper lip and chin area. One of the worst symptoms and the one most persistent. No lotion, no make up, no nothing. Just ugliness at its finest, smack dab in your face.

Why now I thought, already knowing the answer. In a heartbeat life brings a reminder of how quickly things can change. I haven’t talked about Mom in a long time. Nothing has changed and she hates being in the nursing home. We usually Skype every other day, but something happened last Wednesday and she wasn’t herself. Just moments into the conversation I realized how agitated Mom was and I could see it all over her face. I questioned her about what was going on and she had some harsh things to say in regards to me leaving her there and being the reason as to why she must stay there. Dad came into play again, and threats came up, mixed with insults and bad names. It was very hard to hear, but I realized that she was speaking from a place of fear and being alone. I know that she has open wounds again and I’m sure she is not happy hearing about it, let alone being instructed or told what to do about it. I found out she blames me now for not being able to get better, because I am keeping her in such a horrible place. In the end I was unable to turn things around and to meet her with love and faith. She choose not wanting to have a part of it and instead closed the iPad and hung up. I would lie if I said it didn’t hurt and upset me. Yes it’s not my mother talking when she acts like this, but try and listen to it and be on the receiving end while you are doing all you can.

Nearly six months have past since I left and is losing hope and faith that I come back to take her home. Nearly six month of trying to get back on my own feet and healthy. She is out of reality that it is not possible unless her home is remodeled to accommodate her in the wheelchair. She doesn’t want to do those things, but doesn’t realize that her current housing situation (at home) no longer fits her needs and it is me who gets caught in the crossfire. She has decided not to talk to me since and it’s been almost a week of me trying to reach her. Besides today….

Monday’s and Tuesday’s are usually my days with Mother Nature, hiking, trying to get my strengths back to join a regular life again, including a job which I soon have to seriously consider. I didn’t go out on Monday for various reasons, and for not being well, physically and mentally. I could have called her, but I couldn’t bring myself to sit here, and to keep hitting redial, being sad and disappointed on top of things, knowing that her stubbornness very well prevent her from answering. I couldn’t put myself through it, although I know that if it wasn’t for me who always comes around, we probably had many occasions already to never talk again. And second, if she would have answered, I wasn’t in a position to cheerlead and cheer her up today. Nothing would have been achieved. So here we are, with me, continued at her mercy, and hopefully one day she feels like talking again. I know she has her reasons and fears, her dislikes and grudges, but I can’t bring her home and leave her to die. It almost happened a few times already. I wish she could acknowledge this, instead of punishing me with the silent treatment to inflict more guilt. There is no extra help needed and I am well there already.