Heartbreak and healing

Mom is leaving our home on Monday. The deed is done, the deposit made, the evaluation complete. Now the time for self-doubt has really kicked into full gear.

And the calls are coming.

Have you thought about respite care? Have you thought about daycare? Have you thought about bringing someone into the house?

Yes. Yes. And yes.

Then there are those well-meaning people who take great pleasure in telling you what horrible places nursing homes are, how the staff mistreat and abuse residents and how they had a relative that went into the nursing home and was dead the next day.

Am I abnormal for wanting to stick their faces into a waffle iron?

The killer was a Facebook comment (and I'm paraphrasing) . . . I took care of (so and so) for as long as I could and then I needed to have some income coming in and a steady job. Fortunately I had relatives in Michigan who could care for (so and so), so she didn't have to go into a nursing home. I think that should be avoided at all costs.

Really? You don't see the irony here? You could no longer do it, so you pawned the person off on more relatives. Well, guess what? We've run through the relatives. And people are not exactly lined up to give me respite care. They all have lives of their own and rightfully so.

But to my children, I will say this . . . If the time comes that I can no longer care for myself. If the time comes when I panic whenever you step outside to check to see if you left your cell phone in the car. If the time comes when I don't know how to make toast, wash my hair, take a bath or order from a menu, put me in a home. No guilt, no self-doubt, no broken heart. I never, ever want to be that kind of burden on you. I never want to put you through this.

This is hard. This is not fun. This is heartbreaking. Most of the time Mom doesn't know who I am and I know I am simply a port in a storm for her. The person who stays with her during the day. The person who helps her get ready for bed at night. And then for one brief moment she will have an epiphany, the light will shine through and there will be recognition in her eyes.

It happened the other night. I was helping her into bed. "I love you. I loved you when you were little too." And in the morning she was gone again. But for that brief moment, those few moments between wake-fullness and the dreamworld, she was there. My Mom was there. Those moments make our decision all the more difficult.

PS  The day after we take Mom to her new home I am leaving to help my daughter in California as she nears the end of her very long pregnancy. It is suggested we stay away from the care facility for two weeks while Mom makes the adjustment. When I come back it will be time to visit Mom again. I want to start remembering the good times. Right now the hard times are overshadowing the fond memories. That has to end and it will.