This is not a job for everyone, that is frigging obvious to me, as things spiral downwards. From lost focus, to shaking, to toes turning black and blue. The ride is up one minute, then heading downwards at the flick of a switch, and it plays hell on one’s system, never mind the mind.
All sorts of things run through the mind, and fear is never far away, from bubbling to the surface, and overtaking a person.
Yesterday, I noticed one of Mom’s toes a darker color than normal. It wasn’t pink but more light blue, with a bit of swelling further up the toe ( away from the nail ). Now this is on her good foot, the one that had a sort of yeast infection a few weeks ( or more ) back.
Last night it was a darker color, and so this morning I had the home worker take a look.
SIDE NOTE HERE: This is one more reason why it is important for the home support workers to not just be properly trained, but to know their patient. What good is it to ask someone who hasn’t seen or been involved with mom regularly to check the toe out? Like how would they know if it was different in size, or swelling, if they hadn’t been familiar with Mom? In addition, they wouldn’t have a rapport, to be able to find out that Mom said she bumped her big toe the other day. Details that matter, but something a casual worker isn’t going to find out, or consider.
This morning, it appears that there is a break in her skin, just above the nail, and that the part further up is swollen, not as dark as that by her nail. So obviously something is amiss, and there goes the mind racing forward imagining all sorts of complications. Considering Mom originally had black toes, that need amputation on her other foot, that is the first thing that pops into one’s head. Is this another instance of that?
IF it is, well you know the end is coming, as there is no way Mom could go through another five or so hours of surgery, and amputation, to save her leg, or life. She can no longer tolerate the anesthetics, which makes her a poor candidate for surgery. In addition, there is the breathing, lungs, and the other medical issues. Add into that, that she has an infection that won’t go away, but is contained, and well… you get the picture.
SO the mind goes into overdrive, because the day you dread, maybe around the corner. You are never truly prepared for it, and at the same time, you want to forestall it. You are consumed suddenly by morbid thoughts, and begin wondering, how will you cope, how will you deal with all that could happen, and happen quickly.
I didn’t want the job, never really raised my hand and said, hey I’ll do it, because honestly, it just sort of fell into my lap. I am her Son, what else could I do, but do what needs to be done. The stress is something I just can’t describe, and I am pretty good with words. The emptiness, the anger, one feels from having to do the same task, day in and day out, not for weeks, not for months, but going on to over several years now. It zaps you, consumes your every waking moment, and to be honest, it plays hell with one’s relationships.
Not just family, but friends too. You become a bore, always under the gun to not enjoy things, to do things. Your time is no longer your own, but is limited. Even going out to shop for groceries, becomes a race with the clock. Your whole thinking process is now centered on what is happening at home, when you aren’t there. Is she in need of a change, is she trying to go to the bathroom on her own, is she having a coughing fit, and the list just goes on.
You think, eat, breathe, nothing but what is the next crisis to be, and you resent it too. Your life is not yours anymore, it isn’t centered around your spouse, or your friends. It is all about an old person, who often isn’t even aware of the demands being placed on you.
A home support worker is here for an hour, and off they go to the next patient. At the end of the day, whether 8 or 10 or even 12 hours, the day is over. They can go out, as they get days off, and they can socialize, have friends and do things, that you used to do. In some ways you become jealous, because you are tied down, for 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Only death will release you from the job at hand, that is filled with constant stress.
And yet, it is your parent, your loved one. How do you walk away from that? I suppose some could, hell some do, but the guilt after, would be too much. Sure I think of it, dream about it perhaps, and the thoughts that come to mind, are, well, distasteful and wrong. Yet it is life, it is how it goes.
After all, she spent years changing my diapers, years in teaching me values and ethics, that are my foundation today. How can one just walk away? You can’t, so the rollercoaster ride continues, until that one day comes, when the downward spiral, simply ends, with no upward turn. Life ends, and you wonder, does it end just for her, or does it end for you too?