It's been a week since this respite began and I decided to take the day off, although I keep saying it aloud as if someone will audibly correct me if I'm wrong. Wrong. It is a strange concept in a situation where nothing is right, and yet I keep tripping over it in my mind. I wish someone would audibly tell me what to do -- God, for instance? I'm the daughter who stated reasonably to my siblings that I would never have my mother stay with me. She is too large of a person in her opinions and preferences for me to peacefully co-exist in her orbit. I'm drowned out and edgy and itchy to run away. It's unhealthy for me. And yet, she has been living half the time in our home, my haven, because there is no other option. She's been living here, with a disease that renders her incapable of good manners and observed boundaries.
Although I have my mind set on this sunny moment on the deck eating a late breakfast with my feet up and my husband beside me, my phone continues to interrupt. It is my mother, and after the third call I answer. She wants to know when I'll get there. She is all packed up, she tells me, and she doesn't know what room she is in because they told her she has to leave her room because someone else needs it. My mother wants to know if she should wait for me outside. When it becomes clear that I cannot reason her out of this wilderness of panic, I look over at my husband who shrugs as I tell her to please write down that I will be there by 1:30, giving us another two hours of the day together. I ask if she wants me to text it and she tells me she'll remember. Five minutes later I see an unfamiliar number calling, and offer a prediction. I am right. The care facility nurse is asking if I could give my mom a call because she is confused and thinks she is leaving and keeps trying to go into another person's room. I tell her I am on my way.
I try to use the half hour drive to put my heart right. I don't want to expend energy on resentment or frustration. I know this season of life is filled with opportunities to learn and grow so I am finally peaceful as I approach the room with two staff members filling the doorway. I lean past them to see my mother, huddled and small, berating the aide for not knowing if the coffee is decaf. I speak firmly to her.
"Mom, you need to be kind to people who are trying to help you. There is never an excuse to be rude."
My mother responds with a sigh and a mumbled, "But she wasn't being helpful to me."
I ask the aide her name and then apologize. "Patricia, we appreciate all of your work -- don't we, Mom?"
"Thank you, Patricia." It's not obviously sarcastic, just begrudging, and Patricia accepts it graciously. I suspect they had been in a stand-off and any movement is welcome. I explain that I am going to take my mom for a walk around the wing, and hope to return a little bit ahead of her so that I can put the room back together. Patricia approves the plan and quietly offers to remake the bed while we stroll.
A nurse pats my arm as we pass. "Look at that smile on your mom's face. You bring the sunshine." My mother is, in fact, grinning with the expression of a ten year old at a birthday party, all of the stress of the morning completely forgotten. We quietly harmonize through the long hallway, and chat about the gardens we can see from the picture windows. By the time she is getting tired we are passing back into the room with the familiar cheery blanket and plush heart shaped pillow. Patricia has fulfilled her part of the mission. After a card game my mother doesn't care that I am leaving her, and there is anticipation for a sing-along in the lounge that will begin in a few minutes. I gather her dirty laundry, kiss her on both cheeks, and head out into the summer day.
My brain is more easily settled than on the drive in; I love the feeling of heading home. Still, I am uncertain about the future, or even the "now". I'm pathetically flattered that I could make a difference, make her happy, but I know it's just a momentary reset/redirect of her mind. The cost of her calm is my constant attendance on her, and it's a price too high, not even feasible.
I put the conundrum aside. It's an unsolvable puzzle, nuanced and complex and it is making my head hurt. Besides, a sudden storm is darkening around me bringing sheets of rain that require my full attention.
Comments
Post a Comment