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.
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.
