I know it’s been a while since my last post; I have been trying not to upset myself or my mother, so I have been quietly hiding.
Since I have been taking care of my mom, I have had a few bouts of depression; I have had trouble with concentration, hopelessness, constant sadness, low energy, fatigue, and the feeling of failing my mother.
Well, I’ve been working on myself to accept what I cannot change. For the last two weeks, I have done what the doctors and my family have been advising me. Let my mom live her life the way she wants. I’m no longer after her to drink fluids, nor have I been trying to get her to eat a balanced meal. I leave options for her to decide what she wants and as you would guess, she always chooses the wrong thing.
So, for the last two weeks, I’ve been playing hide and seek.
What is my life like now?
It’s actually been harder. Since I am not making her eat protein, her dementia has gotten worse. Our arguing has lessened, but her reasoning and the ability to understand is very stressful.
So, we have been playing “hide ‘n seek.” On a few occasions, she appears to be clear headed, and I come running out like a kid who’s just heard “Ollie, Ollie, Oxen Free,” only to find out I fell into her trap.
“Nancy, is Paul still sick?”
“Mom, Paul’s not sick.”
“Well, I thought you said he was, and he’s been locked in the small bedroom all morning.”
“Mom, Paul’s not home.”
“Then why did he lock the bedroom door?”
We walked into the hallway, I turned the knob and the door opened.
“How, did you open the door?”
“Mom, you have to turn the knob.”
“Nancy, open my bottle of water?”
“It’s opened.”
“No, its not, I tried to open it and the cap is tight.”
“Mom, I loosened all the caps. If the caps were any looser, the water would spill out when you picked them up.”
“Nancy, look the cap won’t move, it’s stuck.”
“Mom, you need to turn the cap to the left, you’re turning to the right – you’re closing all the bottles.
“Mom, why do you have plastic trash bags on your bed?”
“To protect my mattress.”
“Mom, your bed has a mattress protector, and we’ve been using the disposable blue bed pads like in the hospital for the last seven years.”
“Oh, is that what they’re there for…”
She’s locked me outside of the house on three occasions.
She’s heated up spaghetti sauce thinking it was soup.
She’s had Hazelnut creamer instead of milk in her cereal.
She’s washed her hair in cream rinse.
I’ve found depends in the sink, on the floor, in the wastebasket – everywhere but the diaper pail.
She talks to herself about me, out loud, so she can hear what she’s saying.
I question my ability as a caregiver. It takes a special type of person, and maybe it’s not me. So gradually I am learning to laugh at the funny things, to realize that most of the time she doesn’t know, and some of the time she just doesn’t care about what she says and does. She has always been critical of me, whether or not it’s the dementia or her true feelings, it’s her problem, not mine.
I have tried to look for caregiver forums, just to know I’m not alone, but when I read the loving stories that are posted, I feel like the odd man out. It seems that everyone can cope but me, and I’m left feeling more depressed.
If you have read any comments, on my entries, you would know I have a faithful reader. Her name is Barbara. One of her blogs is Senior Safari. Her entries are very informative, and as luck would have it, she posted about a Family Caregiver Forum she just joined. Reading what others had posted on this site let me know I am not alone. Being a caregiver 24/7 is hard work, there’s no morning or afternoon breaks with the girls, no hour lunches. It’s being isolated, stressed, and at times angry.
Just knowing that I am not alone, and my feelings are normal, made this day a little better.
Thanks, Barbara!
