The daily grind is something, and yet compared to many it isn’t all that bad. Seriously, I know that what I have to accomplish, each day with Mom, isn’t all that complicated, all that difficult even. And yet, it weighs on the mind, on the body so that by the end of the day, the patience is gone, the temper is in full throttle, and everything seems ready to fall apart.
Maybe the cause is the stress, real and imagined. I don’t know which is worse, the real stress of being financially challenged, or the imagined stress when a new worker is coming, or new additions to the routine are needed.
It isn’t even Mom herself, that is the cause. I don’t know, it gets complicated, but at times one feels like such a failure, that you just wish it would all end, that someone else would assume the burden, and yes, it is a burden. Still, those are the dark thoughts, and they do seem to come more frequent, than before her wrist being broken. And then there are the thoughts about what is coming next, because there will be a next, a more to follow.
IF I am finding it hard to cope now, with Mom being more or less mobile, more or less coherent, how will I manage her care when her abilities diminish, when her mobility is less, her continence is even less? What will happen if she can’t move, or becomes bed ridden?
Crazy thoughts, that seem to be running in my head, every day, and night now. Like I get a phone call telling me the normal Monday worker has booked off sick, again, and my thoughts go from nice they called, to wondering what I’ll do when the worker drops mom, or lets her fall?
It has to be crazy, to anticipate diseaster, yet that is what seems to go through my mind, on a too regular basis these days. Then too, there is the lack of patience, for when I take her to the bedroom, and she suddenly says she needs to use the toilet. I am impatient, annoyed even, and yet why?
After all, it is better that she still has some control, and I really don’t want to have to change depends that are filled with shit, yet her request annoys me. That isn’t right, and after, it makes me feel like shit. I don’t say anything, but the thoughts, they are wrong to have, yet fill my fucked up head. I don’t get it, and I don’t expect any answers, least of all from here.
Still this whole thing is becoming a living nightmare. I can’t hire anyone, don’t have the money, and no friggin way can I put her in a home. It would kill her, and I can’t do that. I know I love her, I just don’t know how to make her remaining time comfortable, to make it pleasurable.
I don’t know how to change my mind, to alter the feelings anymore. I am not some weak willed wusse, or least, I didn’t use to be, but now, now I wonder. My resolve is weakened, and it is killing me with each passing day. I feel it inside, the withering away, from the worry about what will be, or what could be. It is wrong, stupid, and not helpful, yet it won’t go away.
God how I hate this life.