In need of supprt, the way I see
it, right and wrong are a matter of perspective about some issues. I've been my mom's caretaker for about 10 years now. She's got Alzheimer's and dementia that's gotten progressively worse for the last few years. I'm not living right now, my life has become a simple test of endurance. For various reasons, putting my mom in a home isn't an option, so...I endure. My mom has always been a very emotionally needy, demanding women who can never be pleased. This has simply continued into her old age. Nothing satisfies her, there's always something to complain and gripe about no matter what someone does, how much how much of an effort someone gives, or how well they do the job. My mom is 86 now, and on a downward spiral, with her symptoms getting worse. She's been on morphine and percocets for years for arthritis in her back, and she's become immune. If she wants an extra pill, I give her one. Whatever the hell she wants so that I can get at least a little peace in my life, she can have. If my mother doesn't get her way on demand, instantly, chaos ensues. There's the wailing, the crying, the screaming....yeah. I've had enough of her personality to last me 100 lifetimes. I just want peace. That's it. That's all. And the way I see it, if an extra pill or two will buy me that, so be it.
Some people may lable that as 'wrong'. Maybe. But it's the right thing to do for me. My mom was recently in the hospital, and we've discovered that she has a possible blockage in her heart. There's nothing they can do to get rid of it. She probably wouldn't survive the surgery it would take, which is very invasive. That alone is bad enough, but she has a host of other pretty serious medical issues as well. So, in my mind it's all about what's going to get her first. And somehow, I don't think a couple of extra pills make a damn at this point to be totally honest. My advice? Follow your husband's gut instincts.
Feeltheburn, I feel you. I know exactly how you feel. Some days I can't see even a hint of that light at the end of the tunnel. It's really hard to stay positive when I'm run down, worn out and exhausted. I can't remember the last time I truly relaxed. I'm constantly in a state of high alert dealing with my mother, and being her caregiver. Every minute of every day, while she's awake, which is all the time, I'm on constant guard against falls and accidents. I jump at every single noise, thinking she got up while my back was turned and fell. I'm never away from her for more than 10-15 minutes at a time, because I do need a bathroom break now and again, and I do like to shower once and awhile. lol I'm up at 4 a.m. My mom gets up between 5-7. I'm happier on days when it's 7, because I actually get a couple of hours without her voice in my ear, and I'm not having to get up and run every 5 minutes because she's calling me again, and this time it's to pick a piece of lint off the floor. Yeah. She pulled that one last night. I told her to never do it again. She might have Alzheimer's, but there's enough of her left to get my drift. My mom is up and wandering around all day long. She might doze for a half hour, but that's about it. I can't sleep during the day unless my oldest son is here and can give me the break to do it. Then I fall into a dead sleep for at least a couple hours. I'm up again between 1 p.m and 3 p.m, and then it's about 11 pm or later before I finally get her settled and actually in bed asleep. After she's in her room at 11 pm, there's usually another hour to an hour of running back and fourth I have to do, getting her this or that, a snack, a drink, or something else she forgot, or she's calling because she needs up for the bathroom again, etc. Sometimes it seems the damn days just never end. After she's finally down to sleep, I'm so wired and on edge I can't sleep. Sometimes I don't get to be before 2 a.m, to sleep another measly two hours. Sometimes there are weeks that go by where I'm so exhausted that I can't read, watch tv, or think. My mind feels fuzzy and scrambled, and I don't feel all soft and fuzzy, or at all patient when I hear my mom calling me AGAIN. I get angry, because after a certain time, I want to be off duty. I have limits. I went outside the other night and cussed like a sailor. I used some of the most godawful profanity in the book, and called my mom every derogatory name there is. God, that felt great. lol I'm sure my neighbors, if they heard me, and that's not the first time I've done that, think I'm a little loony by now. Ah well...that's fine. I can live with it. lol
One good thing that's come out of all this thankless sacrifice is that I'll never take peace for granted again. I so appreciate the smalls things so much more now than I ever did before I started this 'journey' with my mother. A quiet cup of coffee early in the morning, gazing out over the misty covered lake, with nothing more than the sounds of the geese honking and the hawks screeching over the mist covered lake, to break the silence....ahhhh.....that, to me, is winning the lottery. I'll never take the little things for granted, ever again in this life. I so appreciate the smalls things now.
I'm the best caretaker I can be. I'm quiet when my mom takes 5 minutes to spit out one or two words, and then gets royally pissed when I have no clue wheat she wants. She's very well fed and totally enjoys the meals I fix for her, which I make sure are as healthy for her as possible, with lots of salads, soups, grilled lean chicken, beef, pork, turkey, etc, fresh fruit, etc. Once and awhile I'll make a special dessert from a diabetic cookbook. I make sure she's clean and showered, and that her clothes are always clean and fresh. I wipe her ass and clean up all the messes. I make sure her room and bedding are always sanitary and clean. I also take care of every room in this pretty big house, and do all the shopping and household chores. So, yeah. I know I do a great job.
Unfortunately, I'm not perfect, and while I do have an angel on one shoulder, the devil has certainly taken up residence on the other. Anger? Sometimes I feel so much anger that it seems like my body isn't big enough to contain it. I go outside and cuss like a sailor. That's how I deal. I'm sure the neighbors think I'm a loon by now. lol