270 Days and Counting...

It has been 270 days since my mother had her stroke and 45 days since I let my sibling know what I thought of him and his inaction.  In the last 45 days my brother has been the model long distance son, calling often and making promises with no deadline.  At first he was coming for a week at Thanksgiving, then it changed to pick my mother up and taking her back with him after Thanksgiving, and somehow now its moved to after Christmas and right before the new year.  Although I am not surprised, I am baffled how any child, raised by loving parents, can make the conscious decision to NOT to be there for them when needed.  My brother has not been to visit our mother since June of this year, and he only came then because my mother's older sister suffered a massive stroke and passed away.  He came for appearance sake, offering little support to my mother, or the rest of the family.

I placed my mother in respite care for 3 weeks, simply because I could no longer subject myself and my sons to the constant process of caring for her.  If you've never been a family caregiver, you can't understand how hard the responsibilities are to bear. And no matter what you do, you will always feel like you are not doing enough. But through her tears and mine, I continue to remind us both, that this is not our life, its just Thursday, November 17, 2011.

Positive Time On My Hands

All I can say about the last month is WOW.  I've had a full fledged fallout out with my brother, my mother is now in a swing bed facility and I need something to do with my time and hands that won't result me to go CRAZY.  I've been searching around the WEB and found some and hopefully lucrative ways to utilize my time.  It will be nice to have a positive outlet at 2AM when my normal functions is to sit up and worry about what I cannot control.  I'll be blogging on my hopes, dreams, failures and successes during this phase of my existence. I'll be filling the empty time with positive endeavors instead of worrying about my sons' futures, my mother's health or my brother's ignorance.  And I will continue to remind myself that this is not my life, this is just Tuesday, October 17, 2011.

Love  - Peace - Pills - and most importantly - Prayer

Reality #1

Its been 198 days since my mother had her stroke.  A stroke that struck in two areas of her brain, paralyzing her left side and hospitalizing her for 32 days.  I was very optimistic 198, 190, 100, even 60 days ago about my mothers ability to fully recover from her stroke. But slowly I began to accept and respect the reality of what was ahead of us, and now its time to deal with it.

Reality #1 - my mother will never be the same again.  DAMN, that was a hard pill to swallow.  This episode in her life has changed her, well actually its changed all of us.  This has been one violent, horrific, eye-opening kick in the teeth that will leave us forever changed, hopefully for the better.

This has changed how we see the world and how the world sees us.  Somehow I've been accepted as daughter of the year for my "loving, patient care".  Yeah right.  I am loving and caring, but my patience is running very very thin.  I have no patience with my brother, my mothers primary doctor or myself at times.  I have no patience for anyone who does not make a back breaking attempt to fully understand that this ain't easy.  I have no patience for anyone who thinks I should put my mother in a home, or hire strangers to care for her, or just leave her alone when she's being difficult.  I try to understand and accept that they are clueless, that they have no idea how hard this can be for her and everyone around her.  But it would be so nice if people would just listen and not try to give me their advice on how I should do things.

I have no patience for my brother who thinks calling once or twice a week to make sure everything is OK is enough.  News Flash - its not.  I have no patience for his pious self-righteous belief that prayer without action is enough.  This would have been easier if I had been an only child, then I wouldn't keep having the fleeting expectation that one day, some day my brother would man-up and be the son and brother he should be.

I have no patience with my mother's doctor's office, who are fine physicians, but have more patients then they have time.  I get it, medicine is a business, but I need them to understand that my mother is not an account, she's my mother.  I need them to see that when I call them about her health I want them to pick up the phone versus sending me to voice mail, and call me back without my having to contact the surgeon general or the medical ethics board.

I have no patience with my inability to fix this for my mother, like she has fixed things for me for the last 44 years.  I can't kiss the boo boo and make it all better.  I can't put her down for a nap, and promise that tomorrow will be a brighter day.  I can't fix this, its not going away.   I have no patience with the fact that I don't want to be my mother's keeper, but I am the only one who will be.  I have no patience with my lack of desire to sit with her for 8 hours while she chatters on about ninety million topics about people I've never meet and never will.  I have no patience with my own selfishness even though I keep being there and will continue to be there for her as long as needed.

Its been 198 days since my mother had her stroke, but this is not my life, its just Tuesday, September 6, 2011.

Paralysis

My former boss can clearly be describe as a first rate bully.  She yelled, belittled, humiliated, intimidated and lied at every possible opportunity.  It was a daily nightmare that gave me headaches, stomach aches and eventually led me to medical intervention and an official job change. 

But the fallout of suffering under her tyranny has left me trying to drag myself blindly out of the dark hole she dumped me in.  After living in fear of her attacks, I am happy to admit that my new supervisor and team are supportive, encouraging and just a joy to work with and for.  I would have sworn I was just fine and dandy without any reciprocal fallout, but Thursday I made a human error and I was paralyzed with fear.  I quickly corrected my very small error, informed all the related parties and waited for the hammer to fall heavily on my head.  NOTHING happened.  The error was corrected, no harm done, no one yelled, no one made me feel incompetent, but the paralyzing fear was still there.

It took that first mistake to remember that human errors happen and unless I am in the medical profession or holding a weapon or have my finger on the red button that ends the world, my mistakes are just mistakes.  I also remember the stifling impact of bullies.  I can easily see my former supervisor as a bully among her peers as a child, adolescent and adult.  Or maybe she had been a bully and had promised herself that if she ever got the upper had, she would use it to smash those around her.  Unfortunately I was the bug trapped beneath her for far too long.

Maybe I need an adult support group for the victims of workplace bullies, but for now, I have pills and prayer.

Take this Job & ______________(you fill in the blank)

Today I am taking a few minutes to reflect on where I am and where I am going.  I’m not tying myself down with the destination, just focusing on the journey. 

I’ve been actively de-cluttering my life, both my physical and mental space, since my father died two years ago.  I have thrown away, given away, and discarded over a third of my possessions, all with the goal of being free.   It took a while for me to realize that the physical things in my life were only part of the problem.  I had to deal with my mental clutter as well. 

I changed jobs (actually asked for and accepted a demotion), just so I would not have to deal with the devil with the bad bleach job I worked for daily.  For every definition of toxic boss I’ve ever read, I have a true life experience that I suffered through for her entertainment.  My off days, weekends, holidays, etc, were cluttered with assignments that no human could finish or the nagging fear of what would happen next.  That life, that fear, that existence had to go. 

I was scared blind; I thought I was shooting myself in the foot, ending my own career.  But now that I’m on the other side, it’s amazing; it’s an endless WOW moment.  It’s nice to NOT deal with CRAZY day after day.  It cleared the clutter of my job out of my space.

That was probably the biggest hurdle I had to jump, it’s just a job.  It is a long way from being the definition of who I am.  It does not meet my definition of happiness or success.  It is just what I do, it is not who I am.

So I traded the title and stress and headaches for a quiet cubical that I occupy for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week.  No more late nights, no more weekends, no more nightmares about what I did or didn’t do.  Just 8 quiet hours that stay completely confined within the cubical I work in.

It’s not perfect, it’s just a job.  I no longer look to my employment as the source of my fulfillment.  There is so much more to my life (another WOW moment).  When you do the math, less than half of my life is spent working and sleeping, the majority of my time is free for me to enjoy the process of being me, experiencing my children as adults, getting to know my mother as a friend, and finding out who I am in the middle of it all.

44 years into the process of being me, I’ve finally realized that what happens at any given moment is not the definition of my life.  Today is not my life, its just Wednesday, July 6, 2011.

I Can See Clearly Now the Rain is Gone

I didn't realize it had been so long since I posted anything for myself.  I have to admit that I am leary about anyone else reading these musings, but time will tell. 

My mother is still a stroke survivor, and her therapy is moving forward, as well has her mood swings.

I've survived my 3rd Father's Day since my father's death, and I still believe each year it will get easier to accept he's gone.  I don't miss him any less, but I can get out of bed and function through the day, even though I may be sadder than usual.  This Father's Day was full of drama caused by my mother's mood swings.  For some odd reason, she picked Father's Day to blast me with one of her tirrads, this one being centered on my never ending love of my father.  "You've loved the ground he walked on for 40 years, why should it change now", some how implying that loving him means I can't love her as well.  Thank God again for the wonderous powers of pills and prayer.

The day end with a call to 911 and my mother returning to the hospital for a few days due to having a stroke related "episode" (can we say "Bad Karma").  She spent 3 days in the hospital, which was the best place for her, especially with what occured next....her older sister, had a massive stroke that Monday and passed away.  It was a very hard week for my mother, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my children and myself.  But we'll get past it....this is not our life, it was just one day in it.

We all get caught up in our grief and see only the pain of the moment, we don't see the reality of it.  All we could see is that a family member had died, she was no longer with us.  We couldn't see the healing that had taken place in her life. She would not suffer the life altering impact a massive stroke can have on the human body, she would not suffer the depressing months of painful therapy and painful healing.  Its hard for those of us left behind the understand that her death healed all of that.

It took a little time, but I can see it clearly now.

Sticks and Stones

For the first time since my mother had her stroke, but not the first time in 44 years, her words made me cry.  I'm not an overly emotional 14 year old, I'm a very tired 44 year old.  I have not had a good nights sleep in months. I have been at her beck and call, jumping at every moan and groan, fixing meals, cleaning house, changing sheets, wiping up spills, dispersing drugs, getting up at 5am, laying down (but not sleeping) at 1am.  I'm not doing it for any recognition, not doing it for any praise, not doing it for any monetary reward.  I'm doing it because she is my mother.

But today, she told me I was too impatient to care for her.  It was a shock to hear that the only person who has been with her day and night for months, is not up to her expectations.  As much as I tried not to have it impact me, as much as I know its a result of the stroke and the pain, it hurt.  And as soon as I had finished dressing and feeding her, I left the room and cried.  Not grown up martyr tears that slide cool and quietly down your face,  but the deep heavy tears of a hurt child, hot and sobbing.

But I remind myself, this is not my life....this is just Wednesday, May 11, 2011.

Time Passes

My father would have been 71 years old this year, but we just experienced the 2nd anniversary of his death, instead of celebrating his birthday.  Its been a difficult couple of weeks since his birthday and his death were just a few days apart.  My mother has spent a lot of time reminiscing about him, and I've heard stories about their courtship I've never heard before.  Its been a painful learning experience.

I am definitely a daddy's girl, even when I reached my forties, and had been married and divorced and the mother of two teenagers, I was still "Little Girl" to him.  I miss him.

I Know I've Been Changed

It's been 53 days since my mother suffered her stroke, 53 days since her life changed, 53 days since she changed.  My mother was always a very reserved quiet person.  Almost secretive, even when dealing with her sisters.  But post stroke, she is a chatterbox, she literally talks non-stop, even if the person she is speaking too has left the room.

It's an interesting change that everyone, except my mother, finds enjoyable.  She has trouble with the lack of control.  But that's what the stroke did, it took away the control she had over her life and the control I had over mine.

Pre-stroke, I considered myself to be ambitious and driven, but life has a way of putting you in your place, putting you back in order, putting you back on track.  To make a long story shorter (if possible), I had lost a great deal of my drive and passion.  My work became WORK, and I hated it and the demon I worked for.  My "boss" was the definition of toxic....evil, spiteful, biased, rude, arrogant, and clueless to her own faults.  Please, don't get me wrong, I've worked for both men and women, they both have their pros and cons, but this woman was the worst of both worlds.  The only way we got along was when my behavior mirrored the horror of hers.  Only problem was that I was not willing to become her for a pay check.  You know, that whole comprising my  integrity thing.

Sorry, but I don't believe you have to be hated and feared by your staff to be effective.  A N Y W A Y.....eventually I hit my limit, but I was not in a position to just quit my job, so while I waited on a transfer, I still had to cope with my daily interactions with the DEVIL.  What I needed was a remedy or an alibi....thankfully my doctor provided me with a remedy (the Pills portion of Prayer & Pills).

In this modern insanity, its not uncommon for someone to be living with the assistance of Xanax/Zoloft/Valium, but for me, I never considered it to be an option.  I never considered it until I truly plotted out how to murder my boss....I needed medical intervention. 

Two weeks after filling the doctor's order, my mother had a stroke.  The Power That Is knew I was going to need all the help I could get to survive what was coming up.  It took a day or two for me to realize that the medical intervention was not about my CRAZY boss and work issues, it was to prepare me to handle what was on the horizon.  My mother needed me to be focused on her, not splitting myself between work needs and her needs.  My bosses toxic behavior turned my love of service to the people into dread.  I was ready, willing, and able to let my job go, and the morning my mother called I did.

It's been 53 days since my mother had her stroke.  This is not our whole life, this is just Wednesday, April 13, 2011.

Life Altering

My mother had a stroke.  Not a little TIA, but a right-brain, left-side paralyzing, bloodclot-initiated stroke.  That was 43 days ago, and as much as her life has changed and she struggles to adjust, my life has been altered.

I know, it sounds selfish.  It sounds selfish when I say it, selfish when I think it, and selfish when I write it.  She's my mother, I'm her daughter, and there is only one option.  She cared for me and now I care for her.

I have a sibling, who is more MIA then present.  Only a day-trip away, but his life needs him, while my life is on hiatus.  He has to work, while I'm on family leave.  His family needs him daily, while my son's have taken on the role of secondary caregivers.  Not an unusual story, but at 2am when my mother is crying and praying for relief from the nerve pain, I get angry, I feel mistreated and I feel taken advantage of.  43 days since the stroke and my sibling has generously spent a total of 8 days with his entourage (wife and kids) visiting and/or caring for our mother, but insist on reminding me "your not in this alone".  But at 2am on day 43, I feel very alone with mother, I feel very alone with our pain, I feel very alone in our situation.

My mother is the woman I have admired my entire life, the woman I wanted to be more like.  She is the one person I can call when my day is bad or my heart is broken and her response is alway "WE will be okay".  So here WE are.  43 days after she called me at 4:16am to tell me something was really wrong, 43 days after I raced her to the hospital, 43 days after the stroke, she is home, she is unable to use her left side, and I am with her 24/7.

I remind myself daily, this will not be our life forever.  This is not our life, this is just Tuesday, April 5, 2011.