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The Twilight Years Are Here

The Twilight Years Are Here
Showing posts with label Anger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anger. Show all posts

Monday, October 15, 2012

"Why Won't You Let Me Go?"


Escalating Agitation Born of Confusion

“Who are you?”
“What are you doing?”
“Why are you touching me?”
“Get away,” (slap, slap, slap)
“Stop!” (slap, slap, slap) “Stop!”
(struggle, slap, struggle) “Help! Call the police!”
“Get me a phone they are holding me hostage…”


(Sob) “I want my Mommy. Please.”
(shaky hand grips my wrist)
“Why won’t you let me see her?”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
(shaky hand wipes wet eyes)
“I just want to go home.” (body shudders once)
“Why won’t you let me go?”


Momentary Leap Into the World of Lucidity

“What time is it?”
(struggling attempt to rise)
“What can I do to help you today?”
(eyes focus on me, clear and comprehending)
“I miss my wife.”
“Do you think I will ever get to see her again?”
“How did everything get so fucked up?”


(shaky hand reaches for me)
“I know you didn’t sign up for this.” (sigh)
“I don’t understand why you have stayed.”
“I want you to know I’d be dead without you.”
(squeeze tightly) “Please don’t leave me, okay?”
(eyes search mine) “Can I ask you a question?”
“Why won’t you let me go?”

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Squamous Cell Carcinoma is One of the Dirtiest Things I Know


Well, here we are. Dad’s mental state is deteriorating noticeably. He has this annoying new habit of laughing to himself when he disagrees with anything that is said to him. I never knew a laugh could sound so painful… so hateful. He is becoming more paranoid and delusional daily. He frequently has no idea where he is and asks why we “brought him here to visit”. He is transported back in time to Louisiana and believes he still lives there. It isn’t uncommon for him to ask me to “take him back to his bride”.

Physically he is doing amazingly well. Ask anybody that knows him and they will tell you he looks better than he has in years. If you were to ask his doctors, they would tell you that he is in remarkable shape for someone with his list of physical conditions, diseases and age. He is frequently referred to as a medical miracle. It’s as if his physical state is improving as his mental state declines.
Tomorrow, we will go in for yet another surgery. Dad has squamous cell carcinoma on his right ear, again. They will do Moh’s surgery and it will be gone… until the next time.

This past week we found out my mother has squamous cell carcinoma. It’s not on her, it is inside her. She has lung cancer. It wasn’t there in April when she had a CT scan because of pneumonia but it is there now in August. I wish to God there was a treatment like Moh’s that could fix her as easily. Hers is inoperable. We are so in need of a medical miracle here. What a difference it makes to have something like this inside your body rather than outside it! I hate that I am here and not there. I hate that I constantly end up feeling like I am letting down someone in my life, someone that I love. It is all part of the curse/blessing of being a caregiver.

For those who may not know it, my mother spent the last seven years of my grandmother’s life as her caregiver. She devoted herself to her mother. She gave up her home, her time, her everything to be there and care for her mother. We lost Grandmama 5 months ago. Needless to say, Mama has been killing herself trying to settle her estate, deal with all the little things that have to be done, all while dealing with her grief. As she has physically deteriorated, we all assumed it was just a part of the insane stress she has been under. We never guessed there was a time bomb ticking inside her.

Caregiver stress weakens the immune system. A weakened immune system allows things like cancer to grow. I can’t help wondering if there isn’t a direct correlation between the amount of stress and the rapidity of the growth of her disease. I am so frustrated and angry at something so far beyond our control. But I do know that those feelings, too, will eventually pass. Isn't it odd how much of everything in our lives depends on the passage of time?

My mother is one of my heroines. She is one of my best and dearest friends. She raised me and my little sister as a single mom in an era where we were the minority. Very few of my friends growing up lived in a one parent household. If they did, it was usually because a parent had died, not divorced. Mama worked for a pittance and struggled to provide for the three of us. She held her head high and did the best she could (with much help from her beloved parents). She taught me that I can do anything I put my mind to as long as I believe in MYSELF. Most importantly, she loved us.

Over the last five months, I have thought to myself countless times that Mama finally has an opportunity to LIVE. She can finally live her life for herself… she can do the things she has never been free to do… she can live a life where she doesn’t have to answer to another living soul. I’m a bit pissed off that a stupid disease is invading her and trying to knock her down. It is a strong reminder that life is too short. It’s a shame it takes reality biting us in the butt to remind us that life is ALWAYS too short!

I have often said that I come from a long line of Steel Magnolias. It is strong, female, southern stock that always seems to rise like a phoenix amidst the ashes of circumstance. Yes, I know I am somehow mixing metaphors but I also know that the people who read this will completely get my meaning. I also know that there is always a chance my mom will beat this thing simply because she is who she is and she is a Steel Magnolia.

If you know my mother, you know what a great person she is. If you don’t know her, I sincerely wish you did because your life would be enriched by the acquaintance. But whether you know her or not, I ask that you lift her up in prayer, kind thought and wishes. Every little bit helps. And we all need a little help sometimes.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Delusional Day

Sept. 8, 2011

Hi there. I know it’s been a long time since I’ve written but life has basically been controlling me, instead of me controlling it. I spent the last couple of months working 12-16 hours a night, 7 nights a week, (as a caretaker no less). Funny how nice the change of pace has been. I kept the kids while Melissa, my daughter, worked and was with Dad during most of his “awake” hours. Then Melissa was here over night for them all. But, for now, the long nights are over and I am moving to VERY part time.

With Melissa and I having 2 weeks off, I have been able to spend hours on end with Dad. I am here watching him and I am shocked at his obvious slide downhill. We spent the morning together. Several times he told me he felt sick to his stomach. I repeatedly asked if it was nausea or diarrhea (he has Crohn’s disease that causes debilitating diarrhea constantly). He insisted it was just nausea. He decided to go “lie down for an hour”. I put some leftover chicken on to boil so I could make him some soup for lunch. Less than 30 minutes later he was back, exclaiming that he hadn’t meant to sleep so long! When I told him it had only been a few minutes he asked, “Why are you working here today? I thought the other girl was working. Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere else today? When was the last time I paid you?”
My heart sank as I realized he didn’t know who I was. He was obviously confused about where he was as well. Looking out the kitchen window, he asked if we had been getting a lot of rain because it was beginning to form a lake out back. There is an app. 60-acre lake behind the house!

As soon as he finished lunch, he went to lie down again. When he got up, he was more confused than ever. He thumbed through the phone book looking for a listing for an old friend that died a couple of years ago. He insisted he had seen her this morning and she told him she was moving away. He HAD to call her before she did. I still don’t think he is convinced that he hasn’t left the house today (except to get the newspaper this morning). I tried explaining it must have been a dream. To which he shook his head and said repeatedly that he was losing his mind, “I know it. You know it. You’re just too nice to tell me.”

Dad had an accident in the bathroom and had to call me to help him clean it up. He hates asking but he simply can’t do it himself. I was cleaning the toilet, floor and walls when he started talking about events that had happened today. None of them were real. I gently pointed out that he hadn’t gone anywhere today. He asked if I knew he was having “not dreams… not hallucinations…”
“Delusions?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m delusional and I don’t know why. I am seeing things and doing things and going places and it all seems so real. You keep telling me it isn’t real and I believe you because I trust you. That means I’m either going crazy or I’m delusional, right?”
All I can do is hug him and wish that he were less aware of what is happening to him. I urged him to get dressed while I finished cleaning up. On my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor, tears slid down my face.

Here I sit, calm at last, gathering strength to go upstairs and make dinner for 7. I can’t help wondering if he will know who I am by then. It’s a pretty safe bet that he will be unable to grasp the familial connection of his granddaughter and great-grandchildren. But, I can guarantee he will ask, “Is there anything I can do to help you?” at least a dozen times before I can get dinner to the table. He will ask, “where everyone is” at least twice because Richard is at work (the only person missing tonight). He will also stare at Ayla and remark that she is just too “C-U-T-E!” He will frown with displeasure at one or both of the older boys before the meal is over. And, he will look at Melissa in confusion, as if he’s never seen her before. Some things about his disease are entirely too predictable.

Turns out he asked if he could help 23 times but the rest were right on the money. He is argumentative and disoriented but he is blissfully watching the Saints game now. Thank God for the NFL! As long as he has football to watch he is at least content… which buys me a bit of respite from this day.