It’s a waiting game

Mother finally came home on Tuesday 25th January 2022. She had gone for an x-ray on her ankle which turned out to be broken, on Wednesday 17th November 2021. It is taking a bit of getting used to her being home for both of us.

I was told that she would have her lunch before she came home and the carers would be here soon after she arrived. She is due to have 2 carers 4 times a day. Well it seems that she was about to have her lunch when she was whisked away in an ambulance. It took 4 paramedics to get her into the house on a Southampton sling/stretcher. This was at approximately 1.15pm.

We waited for the carers to arrive. Mum was left laying on her back on her new downstairs bed. Giving her a half cup of tea was a bit tricky. She did manage a sandwich. Eventually at 7.20 there was a knock at the door. One! yes just one carer had arrived. I did ask if there was anyone else coming. No he said its just me for the first night. There will be a care manger coming in the morning to do an assessment.

Although he wasn’t able to get her standing so she could use the commode he did get her cleaned up, changed and ready for sleep.

In the morning I got up at 6am not sure what time to expect the morning visit. It was a little after 9am when the care manger arrived to assess mum. One of the many questions she asked was does she need help with laundry, meals etc. She said no, so the next question was who does that for you? I couldn’t help it, the words escaped my mouth… “Her Slave!” Although she laughed she said she couldn’t put that. Anyway, she left and we continued to wait. It was 10.20am by the time the first set of 2 carers arrived. They were both very efficient and within 25 minutes she was up washed, dressed and put in her armchair. She was so pleased to be back in her chair after all this time. She had forgotten how to use the controls.

It was a bit after 12 noon when the next pair arrived. There wasn’t a lot for them to do on this occasion but they were very good with mum and soon had her comfortable. Around 5pm they were back to get her comfortable again. By then we knew what the time slots were.

Morning 7 to 10.30

Lunchtime 11 to 2

teatime 3 to 5.30

Bedtime 6.30 to 10

The carers cannot tell us what time they will arrive.

I quickly gave mum some dinner to make sure she was fed before bedtime whenever that would be.

I was surprised when they were back to put her to bed at 7.30

This morning I was up early again. Mum was quite uncomfortable laying flat on her back. I am unable to get her into a sitting position. If I raise the head of the bed it just pushes her head up which is painful for her. We waited and waited. Eventually I gave her some toast ( no porridge today) as that was possible to eat laying down. I couldn’t even give her a cup of tea. I think maybe a sippy cup might be in the future sooner rather than later.

The carers arrived to get mum up, the same two as yesterday morning, but it was already 10.10am. Again very efficient. However they had been gone less than an hour before the next two carers arrived. 11.20am.

Then we waited until 5.30 before the tea time visit. so this morning there was a wait of just an hour, then a wait of 6 hours before the next visit. Mum has now had her tea and we wait to see what time she wil be going to bed tonight. I hope for her sake it will be a little later.

Having been told that mum would get 2 carers 4 times a day for 6 weeks we are now told it is 14 days. We have a lady from Adult services coming next week. I wonder what will happen then. Even mum has realised that she will now need carers for the rest of her life although she thinks that as she gets stronger she will only need help getting up and washed. I think she will need more than that.

We will see.

Tissue Issue

Ever since I have been doing my mother’s laundry I have complained about her tissue issue.

I have no idea how many times I have emptied the washing machine to find that a tissue had been in among her clothes.

I lost count of the number of times I told her to remove the tissues before putting her clothes in the laundry.

She has now been in hospital since mid November. When I visit her (that has become more difficult this week with the rise in covid). I am given a bag of laundry to take home and wash. Not a problem. The bag of laundry I washed last week included a tissue.

If she is to be believed her tissues get removed and thrown away as soon as she has used them once. The nurses are always trying to tidy up her space.

Either she has been sneaky or the nurses have missed a few tissues.

Yesterday when I did the latest bag of laundry, even though I took each item out of the bag individually she still managed to get a couple of tissues in. Emptying the washing machine there was even more tissue bits all over the floor than normal.

Why oh why does she insist on hiding tissues in her clothing.

Do you know anyone who does this?

This is My Life

In a few months I shall hit that milestone birthday the big Six O. For nearly 40 years I have been running my own household.

For the last 4 weeks my mother has been in hospital with a broken ankle.

I know that being stuck in hospital with not much to do leaves a lot of time to over think things.

When I visited her the other day she asked me how I am coping being on my own running the house. She asks if I have enough money, am I eating enough.

On the radio a little while ago I heard the words of the great Billy Joel. He says exactly how I’m feeling.

This is my life, just leave me alone. For years I have wished that I lived alone. One day that will happen but not until my mother eventually goes into a nursing home.

In the meantime let me enjoy these weeks of living to my own timetable. I can eat what I want when I want. I can do what I want without keeping an eye on the clock (except for visiting time).

I know that no matter my age my mother will always think of me as her little girl. I know how hard it was for her when she thought she would lose me to cancer but that was 20 years ago.

All my life I have felt that my mother is disappointed in me. She says that isn’t so, but it’s how I have felt. It doesn’t help when she talks to me as though I am a child who has to be supervised at all times. I know that isn’t what she thinks.

In hospital she complains to me that the staff talk to the patients as though they are children.

I don’t know how that feels … Much!

Getting everything organised for when my mother comes home has been exhausting, especially as my energy levels are still so very low. I am enjoying being able to pretend that this is my life for a while at least.

It’s dark down here

Over the last few months I have reluctantly come to the realisation that once again I am suffering from depression.

Depression has been part of my life on and off for the last 40 years. Most of the time I manage to keep it at bay. I try to be a cheerful happy person. Now and again I have off days. Every few years it goes beyond that.

Seeing as this has not been my first bout of depression, I am able to recognise it even though I tried so hard to reject it.

My feeling of sadness, sleeping all the time, being disheartened at everything. Even the simplest of chores are a huge effort, have gone on for too long to be ignored now.

My advice to anyone else would be go see your Dr. So why have I not done this myself? I don’t see any point in seeing a Dr this time around. They have two solutions, drugs and or therapy.

In the past I have been prescribed anti depressants. I hated the way they made me feel as though I was walking an inch off the ground. I felt like I had no control.

After taking a couple of different ones over the years I vowed not to touch them again. I understand that for many people these tablets can be helpful.

To my mind they mask the problem without getting to the bottom of it. They might make you feel able to carry on but don’t solve the reason you got depression in the first place.

Way back in my early 20s I had a severe bout of depression. So bad that I had to give up my job. I felt I couldn’t survive the next hour let alone the next day. Obviously I managed to get through it. I asked my Dr if I could have councelling instead of drugs. A councellor came to see me at home. (Once). He was changing jobs, nobody came again. Even that one session talking through my problems helped me get back on track

Because I was out of work due to my mental state I needed to sign on for unemployment benefit as it then was. I had to give my reason for being out of work. How could I say that it was my severe depression. In those days any mention of having problems with mental health were taboo. Finding a new job would be difficult in the future if I explained the gap in employment was my mental health.

Anyway further down the line and several bouts of depression later I asked for help. All my Dr could offer was for me to self refer myself for councelling. I did that but it was several months before I was even offered any sessions (by phone not even in person).

So now here I am again. I don’t want to be prescribed medication. There is no point in asking for councelling. I know the reasons (yes there are more than one) for my current depression. Neither of my most pressing problems are going to be solved by councelling.

Firstly, my health is my biggest reason. Dealing with the aftermath of my cancer treatment 20 years ago. I am only too well aware that my insides are eroding. My bladder is nolonger an issue as I am now a bag lady. Oh yes I have recently decided to name my stoma Betty. Because life isn’t great but it’s Better than it would be without Betty. I am currently going through more scans, cameras and investigations to figure out the next course of action to give me some quality of life.

I am fed up of this body which constantly lets me down. The good days are now less frequent than the bad days. I am acutely aware of how my insides feel nearly all the time. If I get up in the night to visit the bathroom, I then spend anything up to another two hours waiting for my stomach to either settle down or send me rushing back to the bathroom. This can be two or three time a night.

I have a very limited diet, not only being diabetic but also fibre intolerant. I have many windy days/nights. I get bloated. I find eating meals increasingly difficult. I’m better off picking at food.

So although I am aware that my body problems are causing me to feel so bad, there is no quick fix. Hopefully after the endoscopy I am having next week my consultant will have a better idea of what he can do for me. I am due to have my appendix out sometime in the new year.

I would imagine that any further surgery won’t be until later next year. If I’m lucky I could be in a better place this time next year.

As if that wasn’t enough I am finding living with and caring for my mother is making me depressed too.

I do love my mother, I am also grateful for a place to live. What can I say. I don’t mind picking up after her, just generally being her housemaid ( she nicknamed me Daisy). We are now starting to get into the realms of personal care. I am not made that way. Caring for my children was one thing. Caring for an adult, even my own mum is not something I care to do and she doesn’t want me to either.

I’m not sure how much is her MS and how much her declining years possibly even early onset dementia but her memory is going. Anyone seeing her for a short time wouldn’t notice but in her day to day living it is becoming more noticeable to me. I don’t know how much she has noticed.

What is really making me depressed about all this is that I feel trapped. Living with my mother is not too dissimilar to living with my alcoholic husbands. Yes there were two of them. Not at the same time obviously.

Getting my mum out of the house is extremely difficult. When I go out on my own. I can guarantee that if I’m more than a couple of hours even if she knows it will be. Like my four hour round trip to see my granddaughter for her birthday. I will get a phone call asking when I’m coming home.

Before covid I was visiting my son and his family every 6 to 8 weeks, staying overnight so I could spend time with my little grandson. Now I don’t feel confident enough to stay away overnight.

It was bad enough when I was in hospital. I was speaking to her on the phone twice a day and my ex was checking on her daily.

Since then she has become more reliant on me at night too

Although I have now been living with my mother for more that three years I don’t feel that this is my home. It is the place I live. I know that there are so many people who are worse off than me. That just makes me feel guilty for not being happy.

I try not to let it worry me, I will be ok when the time comes. My future is uncertain. This house belongs to my mother. I live here rent free. If my mother dies whilst living at home the house will be sold and divided between myself and my two brothers. That’s not such a problem, I will find somewhere to live. What I don’t know is, what I will do if she has to go into a home. The house will go towards paying for her care.

So I know that any amount of councelling is not going to sort out my problems. Only time can do that.

Not here yet

i have lost track of how long I have been home from hospital. I still don’t feel like I am back in the he here and now yet.

Not only do I still lack energy but mentally I don’t feel as though I am back yet. There is so much I want to do but I don’t feel that my brain is in gear. I can read or knit or watch TV. I can cook simple meals and do a bit of cleaning. Anything that takes brain power just isn’t happening.

I have been having more than my usual amount of down days. I know that I will get through this. After all I am a weeble. You can knock me down but I will get right back up. It’s just that these days it seems to be taking longer to get back to my sunny disposition.

Maybe that’s because I’m getting older but maybe it’s because I feel like the knocks are becoming more frequent. I don’t know and I don’t like it.

Elbow bumps, why?

On and off since March 2020 I have wondered about this. Why do they do it? I understand that the advice is not to shake hands in greetings. What I don’t understand and it’s often politicians that I see on TV doing this, is why the elbow bumps? For a start they have to get much closer together in order to do this.

Wouldn’t it be better to not have physical contact. After all we are meant to be keeping space between us. If they can’t bear to forego physical contact then for heaven’s sake wear gloves and have a handshake. No skin on skin contact and not such close proximity.

Insisting on this elbow bumping ( often looking awkward) is not clever. It doesn’t protect them from catching covid-19. I know that it is considered polite in the civil world to shake hands but couldn’t do that for the past year. Considering the social distancing, face coverings we have all become accustomed to is it not possible that these politicians and other business people/ celebrities could just not do anything.

If elbow bumps are permitted then why is hugging not?

Please could someone explain to me why I can’t hug my family but these people can bump elbows.

We are gradually coming out of lockdown here in UK. Will this habit continue or will handshakes resume?

Is resistance possible?

I am doing my best to resist. On days like this I feel my residence slipping. I took myself out into the fresh air and sunshine to do some deliveries. That helped to lift my spirits.

This morning I swear that we were having a competition to see which of us could be the grumpier.

My life seems to have been one long struggle from beginning until now. My struggles have been many and varied but through it all I have tried to stay optimistic. I try to be cheerful and bring a smile whenever I can. This is why I must resist the temptation to become a grumpy old woman.

I have always loved my mother very much, we have always been very close. Since moving in with her 3 years ago I have found that she is fast becoming a grumpy woman. I can understand that she is unhappy. Not only is she aging faster than she would like. Although it is over 30 years since she was diagnosed with MS for most of those years most people wouldn’t know she had it. In recent years her condition has deteriorated. In the last two years she has had to give up driving. She is angry that her condition has taken away her independence.

I do my best to overlook her grumpiness. Recently she said she has nothing to laugh about these days. I reminded her that I’m here and she can laugh at me.

It is a fine line knowing when to let her struggle to do things and when to take over. Most of the time I just want to say “let me do it!” I usually let her try to do whatever it is then after a while ask if she wants help. She is a very proud, stubborn woman.

Most of her grumpiness is not aimed at me but at the tv. I think this is what gets me down the most. It is just constant. What people wear, their hair, what they say. Bad grammar annoys me but it annoys her more and she is constantly saying so. The worst is adverts. It doesn’t matter how many times she says it, the advert isn’t going to change.

I try to ignore it but I’m finding its starting to make me grumpy too. I don’t like that my mum is becoming so grumpy and I don’t like that it is making me feel grumpy too.

I must do everything I can to resist becoming a grumpy old woman before my time.