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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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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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Coping

  • Posted on August 18, 2010 at 9:02 am
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This entry is part 2 of 24 in the series Quality of Life

Life is never easy, or so it seems. I think too, that we get wrapped up into our own little corner of Hell, and forget, that there are other’s who have it as bad, or worse.  Yet we ignore that, because what we don’t know, doesn’t hurt.   Or does it?

This whole ‘caregiving’ routine is weary, frustrating, and difficult, and yet there are many who have no caregivers, who are alone.  How do they cope? Surely their life is no bed of roses, unless they are financially secure, and how many does that apply to?

Is it our role, to care about those who don’t have the means to care for themselves, or is this really just a dog eat dog world?  Is it a society of the Fittest Survive, the Weak Perish?

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It’ll Only Get Worse

  • Posted on February 9, 2010 at 12:06 pm
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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.

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