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I Just Want a Life

  • Posted on August 13, 2011 at 7:34 pm
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Is it too much to ask?.

I want to get up when I want, not every morning at 7:30.

I want to wake up, without worrying who will be arriving, or if the phone will ring to say a substitute is coming.

Hell I want to wake up and not worry about having to let anyone in the door.

I just want to enjoy a cup of coffee, without having to listen for a bell or coughing, or other signs of distress.

I want to just be able to smell clean air, not one tainted by urine and gas.

I want to not do laundry every single day, and have to wear gloves to put them into the washer.

I want to be able to just sit at the computer, without hearing whimpering and moaning.

I want to go out for a burger, and not worry about rushing home.

I want to not worry about how many gloves I have on hand.

I want to not measure how much liquid is drunk, how much is voided.

I want to not have to shop for depends, laxatives, every two weeks.

I want to be able to take the dog for a walk, even if its two am.

I want to sleep, without keeping an ear open for the buzzer, or for unusual noises from upstairs.

I want to not have to clean up poop and pee every day, several times.

I want to lay down and nap, whenever I want.

I want to do my work, uninterrupted.

I want to not wash floors daily.

I want to not worry about how to pay for pills, and creams.

I want to not worry about heating the house, when I am not cold.

I want to be able to argue, without worrying about bringing on a stroke, or worse.

I want to not be the strong one all the time.

I want to not be the decision maker every second of every day.

I want to hop in the car and just go out, not worry about when I’ll be back, or even have to explain where I am going.

I want to stay up late, when I want.

I want to be able to watch action videos, or scary ones, if I am in the mood.

I want to not deal with infections.

I want to not always be on watch, on guard for the slightest blemish, or discoloration.

I want to have a shower that lasts more than two minutes.

I want to not weigh every single word, before speaking.

I want to not feel stress the instant my eyes open, till when they close.

I want to not lay awake at night, wondering if I’ll be greeted by death in the morning.

I just want to have my own life.

AND YET, as much as I want that, I also DON’T. 

Having all that, will mean that Mom will have died, and that I doubt if I can cope with, and it is the last thing I really want.  God, what a cruel joke life is.

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What Do You Say?

  • Posted on March 4, 2011 at 10:53 am
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Words do matter, especially with someone old. 

For whatever reason, they seem to fixate on words, and gnaw at them, which makes it a constant struggle for anyone talking to them. Simple words can result in days of needless worry and/or stress.

I wish I knew the right words, to say when Mom asks why she shakes, or why she is so tired. I know it is simply old age, that her body is gradually wearing out, but how do you tell her that?  And it isn’t like she doesn’t know, she does. You can see it in her eyes.

It is like a never ending game of charades.

Both of us pretend, that it is something we can fight & win over, but the truth is, we both know it is a struggle we cannot win. Death is coming, maybe not today, tomorrow, next week month, or even this year. But it is coming closer with each tick of the clock.  We both know it, but we hide, we play the game as if we don’t know.

Something about human beings, that make us think we can cheat death, by ignoring it. It adds stress to us both, which makes me wonder, why we can’t simply accept what will be, and discuss it as we should. 

Is it that we are cowards?

Or is it that by talking about it, we somehow are going to hasten the process? I wish I knew the answers, wish I could open up to her, & her to me, but instead we go about our normal routine, as if she is just struggling with a bad cold. It seems so insane, so unreal, yet we keep on playing the game.

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It Gets Scary

  • Posted on January 31, 2011 at 9:33 am
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You know, it is expected that when someone gets older, their health will gradually get worse. I mean it’s a given, right?  Not a lot of people reach their nineties, without some health issues, do they?

Point is, it scares the crap out of me, each new illness, or development. Like Mom’s shaking. She is 93, almost 94 and it seems like she is slowing down more each day, though the reality is, it isn’t each day. It just wears on a person, so it seems like it. The slowness, to where a simply bathroom break, becomes an ordeal.

And what gets scary, is that you know it won’t really get better. It is like you are locked into a mortal battle, that you want to win, desperate even to win, yet you know, it just isn’t going to happen.

Victory, at best, is that you make the transition from life, to death, as painless as you can for the one you love. Like a parent, sibling, life partner.  It is the reality of this war, we wage, that Victory is, at best, an easing of your loved one into the hands of your opponent.

Death wins, you may cheat it for the moment, prolong its final Victory, but that is all you can do. And that tears into your own soul. How can you fight a losing fight, and still keep your own sanity?  How can you hide the pain you feel, when everyone knows, you are losing.  Each day, each new shaking episode, each new whimper, makes you realize, the battle is being lost.

How do you keep on fighting?

They say God only gives us what we can handle, but my epic battles with him every night, at 2am, 3am, and sometime more often, questions that. It is supposed to make us stronger, but when you are alone, struggling to just wake up each morning, hoping that you have one more day, it seems like it is just too much.

And yet, even when you hit the snooze alarm four or five times, you get up and find a way to keep going. It is a lonely task, because sharing it with others, is a downer to them. How can you make them resent what is happening to you, which in turn angers you. It is a vicious circle, but then, I suppose, that is why it is called Life.

I guess, to answer my own question, you keep on fighting, because what else is there to do? Giving up, won’t solve it, won’t make the terror disappear inside. It won’t stop you from questioning God & his divine plan. It just makes you feel worse, so there is no choice.

You just keep waging the war, praying for a miracle, knowing it’ll not happen.

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Taught To Win Not Fail

  • Posted on September 13, 2010 at 10:20 am
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Most of us, are taught at an early age, to try and win. To set goals, and strive to achieve them. In other words, WIN.   And yet Care Giving is not like that. You simply cannot win, because no one has yet figured out, HOW TO CHEAT DEATH.

The reality of care giving, is that we are striving to stem the inevitable, and we simply will not succeed at that. Oh we can perhaps delay it a bit, make the end a bit more comfortable, but we can’t alter the ending.

Perhaps, that is why we burn out?  As much as we try, it becomes a frustrating battle that we know, deep down inside, we are going to lose.  And yet that is contrary to what we have been taught, from an early age, onwards.  It makes it hard, to constantly handle the task, knowing it won’t matter in the end.

Then too, isn’t how one reaches the end, worth considerating?

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Double Duty

  • Posted on May 26, 2010 at 9:29 am
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So the other half, David, hurt his back on the weekend.  He is prone to that, but it generally passes but this time, it didn’t. Off from work yesterday, and today, and that included a trip to the Clinic too!

It is like being under a gun, at times. Things just keep piling up and then you wonder, how you can get through the day.

Strange too, how you suddenly realize, how much you rely on your other half, when doing the dialy care for an older person. I never thought much about it, but now that David is incapicitated for a few days, the added work is like being hit by another planet.

On top of all that, David’s grandmother passed away as well.  A triple whammy if you will, but it is also a bit, enlightening.  To see how he handles it, as he was close to her, and yet, it is like death is just, well, a simple part of life.  I don’t get the grieving process for many, and perhaps I am too emotional.

I remember my Grandmother passing, and how devastated it made me feel. I was much younger, but I still remember how it took me awhile to get past the sudden loss. It was even more traumatic when Dad passed away, and I am dreading the coming event with Mother. And yet David seems almost, unaffected by the news yesterday.

Makes me wonder, how will he react when my time comes?

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Going It Alone

  • Posted on February 25, 2010 at 12:09 pm
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It isn’t a subject I really want to think about, call it perhaps Denial, but then again, maybe it is simply a case of not wanting to face the reality of life.  I mean, we are born, we live for however long we do, then we die.  It is just that, nothing more, nothing less, unless we are fortunate to have some special gift, talent, that will let our lives be remembered.

My own life, will not be remembered by many, if any, and yet it hasn’t been an issue, at least not until now.

Mom is 92, going on 93, and she too will not have many who will remember her. Even my pathetic attempt at trying to make this site for her, will more than likely pass off into the vastness of cyberspace, an odd visitor or two, and that will be it.

I never really realized, just how much a loving partner can play in one’s life. I used to fight, argue with Dad, and yet I see how much Mom longs for him, even now, and I wonder, will David feel that way about me, when I have left this earth?  Maybe I am spending too much time, thinking about what is coming, or maybe not enough? 

This life is fragile, one can go at any time, and Mom has had a good run. I know that, and I know too that she is in pain, but fights on. Yet death will be a release, and yet too, if one believes in God & heaven, she’ll finally be re-united with her soul-mate, Dad.  As much as that should comfort me, it doesn’t.  Call it selfishness, or whatever, but I want to cling on, to hold her with me, though I know the end is coming.  Not today, next month, or even maybe next year, but coming it is, which makes me tremble.

Yet wanting that, I still find the daily tasks annoying, making me irritable, angry, and depressed. I find fault, or talk to myself about her, in a not so loving way. It makes me think of being a bad person, & yet deep down, I want her to be here, to be able to look over and see her reading her book, or the newspaper. It is a total contradiction of emotions, that leave me confused, dazed even. And yet, this is the life I lead, and refuse to change.

I know one should have ‘the talk’ with those who face death daily, such as Mom. I am sure she wonders about what it will be like, if she will meet up with the spirits of Dad, of her parents, siblings, or will it just be an emptiness. I guess, I too, think about that, though try not to.

While there is lots of stuff, about having that ‘talk‘ there is really nothing about who is there to talk to me, the one giving the talk? How do we, manage to cope with dealing with that eventuality? I suppose it is a bit selfish, but there is a feeling of emptiness, of becoming alone, that frightens me. Will David be there for me? or is it already too much for him?

Frankly I think it is too much for him, not even sure how he has managed all these months, as it is, and I know, it is only going to get worse really. I mean if she lingers, if her condition goes from being semi mobile, to immobility, what then? How will he cope with that, and how will he adjust, or will he?

Hell, how will I cope? I am already feeling worn out, broken and just exhausted, but who is there to talk to? David is the love of my life, yet he is not there, or not willing to be there. That hurts, and makes it even more overwhelming, more desperate. I don’t know anymore, where one turns, where one breaks out of the self imposed isolation, that this task creates.

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