Another week
Kathy is having some kind of Female Trouble, and is feeling crappy. She's going in for an ultrasound next week. I'm worried about her. I did go to see the therapist last week, which was interesting. I get eight free sessions through work, so we'll see how that goes.
Thursday my brother was in town for a day, and we went over to see Mom and sit in while nurses from the two front runners of the places I'm looking at to move her did their assessments. One of them saw her in the early afternoon when she was fairly chipper, and the other saw her later in the afternoon, when she was tired and not so chipper. Both of them felt that she did not need memory care at this point, and could continue in assisted living, though of course at a higher level of care than she'd been getting before the fall. I have to give them both a call back Monday or Tuesday and let them know which one I'm going with. There are pros and cons to each of them, but either, I think, would be better than her current location. Kathy and I spent some time today packing things in Mom's old apartment. Next Wednesday I take Mom back to her doctor to see what she says.
I would like to say I'm relieved, but I still feel a sense of jittery dread. I think that's it's just that on a visceral level I feel that this is the beginning of the end. Mom will only be with us for a couple more years at best. And I don't know for how much of that time she'll remain herself. The loss of mind and self has always been my greatest fear, every since I was a kid and had to go visit my grandmother in the nursing home. The end-stage dementia patients there terrified me, and Grandma's own downward slide was almost as frightening. In the last year of her life I made any excuse not to visit her. Which made Mom angry, but my fear of that place was greater than my desire not to disappoint her.
Now, of course, I'm an adult, not a child. And I fully intend to keep visiting Mom till the end, no matter what that end is. But I'm still terrified. In a sense, I'm in a sort of a weird, backwards period of mourning, grieving for someone who isn't even gone yet. Which isn't fair to her. As Kathy told me, we just have to enjoy the time with her that we have left. I want her last years to be safe and comfortable. I hope I'm making the right decision. The thing that kills me the most is that though all this, Mom keeps trying to comfort me. I should be better than this. I should be stronger.
I want my mommy.
Rants Talk to me
Thursday my brother was in town for a day, and we went over to see Mom and sit in while nurses from the two front runners of the places I'm looking at to move her did their assessments. One of them saw her in the early afternoon when she was fairly chipper, and the other saw her later in the afternoon, when she was tired and not so chipper. Both of them felt that she did not need memory care at this point, and could continue in assisted living, though of course at a higher level of care than she'd been getting before the fall. I have to give them both a call back Monday or Tuesday and let them know which one I'm going with. There are pros and cons to each of them, but either, I think, would be better than her current location. Kathy and I spent some time today packing things in Mom's old apartment. Next Wednesday I take Mom back to her doctor to see what she says.
I would like to say I'm relieved, but I still feel a sense of jittery dread. I think that's it's just that on a visceral level I feel that this is the beginning of the end. Mom will only be with us for a couple more years at best. And I don't know for how much of that time she'll remain herself. The loss of mind and self has always been my greatest fear, every since I was a kid and had to go visit my grandmother in the nursing home. The end-stage dementia patients there terrified me, and Grandma's own downward slide was almost as frightening. In the last year of her life I made any excuse not to visit her. Which made Mom angry, but my fear of that place was greater than my desire not to disappoint her.
Now, of course, I'm an adult, not a child. And I fully intend to keep visiting Mom till the end, no matter what that end is. But I'm still terrified. In a sense, I'm in a sort of a weird, backwards period of mourning, grieving for someone who isn't even gone yet. Which isn't fair to her. As Kathy told me, we just have to enjoy the time with her that we have left. I want her last years to be safe and comfortable. I hope I'm making the right decision. The thing that kills me the most is that though all this, Mom keeps trying to comfort me. I should be better than this. I should be stronger.
I want my mommy.
Rants Talk to me