Went to visit my sister today, having rung to check that she was up and about first. When I arrived she had undressed and gone back to bed, though was awake. Persuaded her to get dressed for lunch. She assumed we were going out for lunch ( she is not well enough). I did not correct her, just led her to the dining room in her Home and said goodbye, knowing that a hot meal would soon distract her.
Well wishes for all, for strength and peace for carers and cared-for alike.
Things have calmed down a bit. I’m finding a bit more energy to do things like pick up the house. When the house is orderly I feel better.
A while back I posted about not being able to find the Power of Attorney for Mum. Well, I have just found it! It was quite serendipitous: I was moving a pile of Stuff from the piano bench into a Box (Suitable For Hiding All Kinds Of Stuff), and happened to look a bit more closely at some of the items, and lo and behold there was the portfolio with medical stuff for my mother, including the PofA. Hooray!
All the paperwork for registered PoA and medical guardianship for me involving sons is part of paper work on divorce, property, wills etc held by solicitor. Do you have that facility where you are? I had it stored by first solicitor but I changed when I bought here as it was difficult to get to the first. Everything was moved. I do have certified copy but original is held by solicitor.
Just simply to say that Mum is now at the stage of dementia care where interventions are palliative only. From the way my sister was talking the prognosis is that she is more likely to be dead by Christmas than alive in six months.
Just simply to say that Mum is now at the stage of dementia care where interventions are palliative only. From the way my sister was talking the prognosis is that she is more likely to be dead by Christmas than alive in six months.
Yesterday I was told that mum probably only has a fortnight left. This is actually good news for me. She is peaceful now, and sleeping all the time, but she is ready to go. She will rest in peace and rise in glory.
Huge kudos to you all. Meanwhile Mrs Z has bounced back from dark places and is leading everyone on a merry dance. Home and happy, as well as functioning well for the first time in weeks or is it months.
This morning I chanced on a CD of Mozart that I had bought for my Dad. So I listened to it whilst chopping the veges to make what had been his favourite soup. I thought about him, how our relationship hadn't always been smooth, but that at the end I was able to farewell him with love, also to a sound track of Mozart.
I'm not sure if the tears were for him, both of us, or more prosaically, caused by the onions - a mixed bag I guess - like so much of life.
Prayers and best wishes for you and all negotiating that process. Feelings can be very mixed and unexpected. (My m-in-law died peacefully, but unexpectedly, a few days ago.)
A new low here, I'm very sad to relate. Yesterday The Dowager didn't know who I was. Didn't recognise me at all; thought I worked at the home, and when I said 'No, I've come to visit you, I'm your daughter' she came right back with 'Being a daughter doesn't mean you can't work here'.
Two weeks ago she might not have been able to tell you my name, but she knew in essence I was someone special to her. No more. I'm ridiculously distressed by this, and have tried to tell myself that the person I visit isn't the same person as my mother, but it doesn't help.
She asked me what I was planning to do with my life (!), obviously making polite conversation, but when the hairdresser came to fetch her she said quite cheerfully 'Thank you for coming, goodbye'.
From experience I now how hard that is. For a long time my father did not know me but knew my sons. Sending hugs and prayers for you as well as your mother.
Things are no different here. Mum and Dad are both in reasonably good health, Dad's new chemo regime is working well, he still has only two outpatient visits a month; a quick one to have blood taken, and then a longer one to discuss the results of the blood test etc. The house is still sparklingly clean, Mum continues to cook to a high standard, they're both still driving.
But they are not happy. Mum is incredibly anxious and Dad is still stuck in his armchair. Mum continues to fret that Dad is in the early stages of dementia, although quite by chance, going back through my diary to find the date of something, I found an entry about Mum worrying that Dad was developing dementia - and that was in 1997.
Things reached a crisis point this week. Dad had a nasty cough, but it was "just" a cough - he didn't have a head cold. Mum was worried that it was an "unusual" cough (because of the absence of accompanying blocked nose etc), and told me, each time I phoned, that she was worried the cough meant that Dad had "an obstruction" which is a euphemism for cancer. I heartlessly ignored her talk of "obstructions" and suggested warm milk and honey etc etc. But Mum was obviously very anxious.
Dad lost his temper and shouted and swore at her. Mum's really upset.
My brother thinks we need to do something. He's furious with Dad. He'd like to haul Dad out of the armchair and reorganise their lives so that Mum gets a break. I'd like to do that too, for Dad's sake as much as Mums, but every time I speak to Mum, she's adamant that Dad must not do anything but sit and stagnate there while she waits hand and foot on him.
In addition to doing all the cooking, cleaning and shopping, Mum is also the taxi service for an elderly neighbour and does some shopping for her, too, she does occasional cooking for a disabled relative, and she's visiting a sick friend, too. I don't know how she does it; I'm 30 years younger and I'm exhausted just contemplating her life.
Best wishes Robert for your mother and your family.
I get your situation NEQ. Our situations are all different and all the same themes.
My father had surgery on Monday. They cut the skin in the left of his nose from the inside corner of his eye to his upper lip, peeled it back and dug and scraped all the basal and squamous cell cancer. Then put the skin back. We're waiting to see the lab results, hopeful it's not melanoma. As usual he's absolutely refusing help. Back at his assisted living apartment, he wouldn't let the aide in who was to help him shower and clean the leaking blood from his face off. So I had to do it. I flew my sister in who is here now, she is taking some time to give us respite.
Note to self: learn from this for when I'm old and incapable.
Note to self: offering to pay travel expenses for siblings levers them into to coming to help.
I wanted to drink some beer last evening, but it really does seem that a cup of tea solves everything, at least in the moment.
Thirding what @zappa said. @The Intrepid Mrs S that sounds very hard, hope your mum recognises you next time. @North East Quine Can you get your dad to come and stay with you with some excuse that you need his expert help with something at your house or will your mum not let your dad out of her sight? @NOprophet_NØprofit - Hope you get good new about your dad's cancer, and that he let's people help him.
Mum has been moved to a different floor as she was getting too frisky with some of the men on the floor she was on. The manager thinks she doesn't have capacity to make informed decisions so for her own safety moved her away from them.
Also echoing what Zappa said. My heart is breaking as I read what you all are going through. I know it's some comfort to me knowing that we can all encourage and empathize with each other.
Can you get your dad to come and stay with you with some excuse that you need his expert help with something at your house or will your mum not let your dad out of her sight?
I don't think my father has been in my house since his cancer diagnosis in 2014, and Mum has only been in my house for coffee en route to visiting someone in hospital; I haven't had a purely social visit from Mum for many years, if ever.
Plus, my mother has always been reluctant to eat any meal I've cooked, preferring to take her own food and cook that. If I had something already cooked, in the slow cooker, Mum would put that in my freezer. Officially, it's because Mum doesn't want to put me to the effort of cooking for her / them, but it's always been a complete pain, as Mum has often rearranged things, I can't find stuff after she's been in my kitchen, etc etc. It meant I had to do extra cleaning before Mum came, as she has an eagle eye for signs my kitchen wasn't up to her high standards. So I can't see Mum being willing to let Dad come, unless she comes too, to look after him.
(True story - on one visit I was trying desperately to get Mum to go out for coffee, instead of tackling my household failings. Mum said we couldn't go out because my ironing (which was in my airing cupboard, so not visible to visitors) hadn't been done. What would happen, she said, if you were knocked down and the police had to come to the house to tell the North East Man, and the police realised you'd gone out for coffee without having done your ironing first?)
(Imagine the scene at police HQ "We have three incidents - a mugging in the city centre, a three car pile up on the roundabout, and the Quine is quaffing lattes in a coffee shop despite her airing cupboard being full of unironed clothes)
I shouldn’t laugh @North East Quine , but I am. Your mother sounds a very difficult person to deal with. My mum would have been out with you like a shot, as she is/was very much of the thought, expressed by Shirley Conran (?) that ‘life’s too short to stuff a mushroom.’
Hope your family find a way to help both your parents without wearing yourselves out.
It's not Mum's fault, really, it's the internalised misogyny. So much energy, ability, organisation, and work ethic - if only she had grown up thinking that a women's place is in the House of Commons, Britain would be a better place today.
My sister was my mother's full-ime carer for many years. One morning my mother addressed her, saying: "Nurse: I'd like you to meet my daughter some time. I think you'd get on well with her."
Her other daughter - me - was many thousands of miles away and could visit only every six months or so. Whereas my sister, her carer, was with her 24/7, doing all the coping. How that remark must have hurt!
It's not Mum's fault, really, it's the internalised misogyny. So much energy, ability, organisation, and work ethic - if only she had grown up thinking that a women's place is in the House of Commons, Britain would be a better place today.
Very much what I though when reading your post NEQ. Though I was entertained by the imaginary dialogue between North East Man and the police officer:
PC I’m sorry to have to say your wife’s been in an accident. NEM (Paling. Thinks ‘OMG the ironing!’) PC It’s just routine, of course, but I’m required to ask, had she finished the ironing before she went out? NEM (Shamefacedly takes PC to the incriminating airing cupboard - aka hot press.) PC (on radio) Hello. PC 49 to control. Get the station sergeant to send a couple of PCs to the hospital and put a guard on NEQ’s bed will you please. It seems she went out without doing the ironing. NEM Sits in the background, head in hands, muttering, ‘The shame! The shame!’
Comments
Things have calmed down a bit. I’m finding a bit more energy to do things like pick up the house. When the house is orderly I feel better.
A while back I posted about not being able to find the Power of Attorney for Mum. Well, I have just found it! It was quite serendipitous: I was moving a pile of Stuff from the piano bench into a Box (Suitable For Hiding All Kinds Of Stuff), and happened to look a bit more closely at some of the items, and lo and behold there was the portfolio with medical stuff for my mother, including the PofA. Hooray!
:votive:
Zappa your mother is amazing.
This morning I chanced on a CD of Mozart that I had bought for my Dad. So I listened to it whilst chopping the veges to make what had been his favourite soup. I thought about him, how our relationship hadn't always been smooth, but that at the end I was able to farewell him with love, also to a sound track of Mozart.
I'm not sure if the tears were for him, both of us, or more prosaically, caused by the onions - a mixed bag I guess - like so much of life.
Two weeks ago she might not have been able to tell you my name, but she knew in essence I was someone special to her. No more. I'm ridiculously distressed by this, and have tried to tell myself that the person I visit isn't the same person as my mother, but it doesn't help.
She asked me what I was planning to do with my life (!), obviously making polite conversation, but when the hairdresser came to fetch her she said quite cheerfully 'Thank you for coming, goodbye'.
Mrs S, mourning
And I'd like to express my gratitude to everyone who posts on this thread. When coping with my mum was difficult, you were my lifeline. Thank you.
Things are no different here. Mum and Dad are both in reasonably good health, Dad's new chemo regime is working well, he still has only two outpatient visits a month; a quick one to have blood taken, and then a longer one to discuss the results of the blood test etc. The house is still sparklingly clean, Mum continues to cook to a high standard, they're both still driving.
But they are not happy. Mum is incredibly anxious and Dad is still stuck in his armchair. Mum continues to fret that Dad is in the early stages of dementia, although quite by chance, going back through my diary to find the date of something, I found an entry about Mum worrying that Dad was developing dementia - and that was in 1997.
Things reached a crisis point this week. Dad had a nasty cough, but it was "just" a cough - he didn't have a head cold. Mum was worried that it was an "unusual" cough (because of the absence of accompanying blocked nose etc), and told me, each time I phoned, that she was worried the cough meant that Dad had "an obstruction" which is a euphemism for cancer. I heartlessly ignored her talk of "obstructions" and suggested warm milk and honey etc etc. But Mum was obviously very anxious.
Dad lost his temper and shouted and swore at her. Mum's really upset.
My brother thinks we need to do something. He's furious with Dad. He'd like to haul Dad out of the armchair and reorganise their lives so that Mum gets a break. I'd like to do that too, for Dad's sake as much as Mums, but every time I speak to Mum, she's adamant that Dad must not do anything but sit and stagnate there while she waits hand and foot on him.
In addition to doing all the cooking, cleaning and shopping, Mum is also the taxi service for an elderly neighbour and does some shopping for her, too, she does occasional cooking for a disabled relative, and she's visiting a sick friend, too. I don't know how she does it; I'm 30 years younger and I'm exhausted just contemplating her life.
My brother and I are at a loss.
NEQ, I'm so sorry. I have no helpful suggestions, only virtual hugs (((NEQ)))
In fact, virtual hugs for all of us coping with the un-copable-with xxx
I get your situation NEQ. Our situations are all different and all the same themes.
My father had surgery on Monday. They cut the skin in the left of his nose from the inside corner of his eye to his upper lip, peeled it back and dug and scraped all the basal and squamous cell cancer. Then put the skin back. We're waiting to see the lab results, hopeful it's not melanoma. As usual he's absolutely refusing help. Back at his assisted living apartment, he wouldn't let the aide in who was to help him shower and clean the leaking blood from his face off. So I had to do it. I flew my sister in who is here now, she is taking some time to give us respite.
Note to self: learn from this for when I'm old and incapable.
Note to self: offering to pay travel expenses for siblings levers them into to coming to help.
I wanted to drink some beer last evening, but it really does seem that a cup of tea solves everything, at least in the moment.
<hugs>
@The Intrepid Mrs S that sounds very hard, hope your mum recognises you next time.
@North East Quine Can you get your dad to come and stay with you with some excuse that you need his expert help with something at your house or will your mum not let your dad out of her sight?
@NOprophet_NØprofit - Hope you get good new about your dad's cancer, and that he let's people help him.
Mum has been moved to a different floor as she was getting too frisky with some of the men on the floor she was on. The manager thinks she doesn't have capacity to make informed decisions so for her own safety moved her away from them.
I don't think my father has been in my house since his cancer diagnosis in 2014, and Mum has only been in my house for coffee en route to visiting someone in hospital; I haven't had a purely social visit from Mum for many years, if ever.
Plus, my mother has always been reluctant to eat any meal I've cooked, preferring to take her own food and cook that. If I had something already cooked, in the slow cooker, Mum would put that in my freezer. Officially, it's because Mum doesn't want to put me to the effort of cooking for her / them, but it's always been a complete pain, as Mum has often rearranged things, I can't find stuff after she's been in my kitchen, etc etc. It meant I had to do extra cleaning before Mum came, as she has an eagle eye for signs my kitchen wasn't up to her high standards. So I can't see Mum being willing to let Dad come, unless she comes too, to look after him.
(True story - on one visit I was trying desperately to get Mum to go out for coffee, instead of tackling my household failings. Mum said we couldn't go out because my ironing (which was in my airing cupboard, so not visible to visitors) hadn't been done. What would happen, she said, if you were knocked down and the police had to come to the house to tell the North East Man, and the police realised you'd gone out for coffee without having done your ironing first?)
(Imagine the scene at police HQ "We have three incidents - a mugging in the city centre, a three car pile up on the roundabout, and the Quine is quaffing lattes in a coffee shop despite her airing cupboard being full of unironed clothes)
Hope your family find a way to help both your parents without wearing yourselves out.
My sister was my mother's full-ime carer for many years. One morning my mother addressed her, saying: "Nurse: I'd like you to meet my daughter some time. I think you'd get on well with her."
Her other daughter - me - was many thousands of miles away and could visit only every six months or so. Whereas my sister, her carer, was with her 24/7, doing all the coping. How that remark must have hurt!
PC I’m sorry to have to say your wife’s been in an accident.
NEM (Paling. Thinks ‘OMG the ironing!’)
PC It’s just routine, of course, but I’m required to ask, had she finished the ironing before she went out?
NEM (Shamefacedly takes PC to the incriminating airing cupboard - aka hot press.)
PC (on radio) Hello. PC 49 to control. Get the station sergeant to send a couple of PCs to the hospital and put a guard on NEQ’s bed will you please. It seems she went out without doing the ironing.
NEM Sits in the background, head in hands, muttering, ‘The shame! The shame!’