There Are No Witnesses

Up early with my coffee in the quiet morning before my day begins, I see in the baby monitor that mom is sitting up in bed. Although now, her sitting up consists of her head on her chest and a constant rocking motion as she continually and forever rubs her eyes.

I don’t want to go in the room.

I putz about the kitchen, stalling, feeling bad for stalling, but just not wanting to start the Groundhog Day routine. Though unlike the original Groundhog Day movie, routine is good because the unknown and unexpected of the day is what charges my anxiety level.

In this alone for eight years, with the steady decline, I now have Home Health coming in weekly, and will be inquiring into the Hospice program soon. At 98, she’ll not be checking into a hospital at this point, and I need to know the protocol.

The hardest thing for me, in all my time here, has been being in it alone. One brother, states away, is “there for me”. You all know that means on his schedule, in his time, if and when it fits into his life. I’ve forgiven him and have no expectations. I’ve let that go. Best that way.

I have very caring, supportive friends, some also in their own trenches, always there to listen and advise.

But its the lack of witness, the things I go through that I talk about, and no one ever goes through it with me. The falls out of bed at 3AM and calling the fire department for a fall assist; the bathroom explosions while she’s in bed at 11PM at night, which requires an hour of showering, changing clothing, sheets.

Praying that as I get her to the commode everyday, that sits right up next to the bed, that she makes it there and back.

Its a constant undercurrent of anxiety and stress that simmers just below the surface. It has become such my way of life that I can hardly remember who I was before this all began. It has changed me forever and, for better or worse, I’ll never be that person again.

I’m see her now rocking, rocking, rocking. Alls I can see is the top of her grey head, her face practically in her lap. So depressing.
I have to go in.

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by: Anonymous

This is a definite time to call hospice. You have reached an I can't do this alone anymore point and your mom has reached the point where help dealing with end of life issues will be a blessing.

Make the call. They will likely respond quickly and find ways to make both of your lives more tolerable.

hang in there
by: Anonymous

you're being your mom's angel on earth.

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