I am once more ill. Why me?

There was a time last fall when my mom was deemed too confused and suffering from dementia to the point where she could not remain in her lovely two-room apartment on the seventh floor of the residence she moved to, and the staff suggested to my brother that she be moved to the second floor where they could keep a better eye on her. In spite of my objections that she should stay where she was and be supplied with a companion, this was done. She has gone from the relative independence of a small apartment to a glorified hotel room without even a shower in the bathroom. Instead she is taken by one of the aides down the hall where she takes care of her hygienic needs. Personally I find this rather humiliating, as does she.

This morning my mother phoned several times, the most upset I have heard her yet. She insisted that she didn’t want to stay there any longer, that she wanted to go home. I had to explain to her that she had nowhere to return to, that our childhood home was just sold the other day. She was understandably angry, demanding to know how they could do this without her approval. Again I had to explain to her that she had approved the sale, that she had given power-of-attorney to my brother, and she was being kept informed about all the stages. But because she has dementia, she remembers none of this.

We finished our conversation by her asking me to send any half-decent men I found her way, because she would even get married again to get out of this situation. I’m not going to hold my breath on that one. But I did send off an email right away to the head nurse at the residence, along with c.c.s to my brothers, informing her of this most recent turn of events and asking if there is something that can be done, if a person can be engaged who would be a companion to my mother who would stimulate her intellectually, and not just be there for her physical needs. I see Filipino women in the home attending old ladies in wheel chairs, but I never hear them carrying on a conversation. My mother needs mental stimulation, and she needs someone who will encourage her to be more physically active, accompany her on walks, and generally make life more interesting for her.

I have been working on this 90th birthday party for her on the Easter weekend. I just realized that this falls during Passover and while my mother doesn’t care, and I don’t care, there will be people we’ve invited who will be keeping Passover, i.e. not eating any leavened products. So I must call the caterer and find out if they can supply Passover-friendly snacks.

My brother finally responded to the email I sent him, thanking me for the belated invitation. I refuse to let his little barbs needle me, although by having admitted that just now, it’s apparent they do. What I mean is that I’m not going too rise to the bait. If he’s not going to be gracious, there is no reason for me to follow suit. He did turn down my offer that we all take Mummy out for supper afterwards, and I believe it is because my sister-in-law cannot stand to spend any more time in the same room with me and my mother than she absolutely has to.

After having recovered from that awful flu I had a few weeks back, I now have a chest congestion and cough that has laid me low. I’m headachy and before Hubby headed out this afternoon he gave me a hug and pronounced me feverish, so I guess I’ll toddle off to bed for a nap once I hit the “done” button.

One nice thing, though, is that the weather has been lovely (except for the rain, of course) and a couple of days ago I spent much time outside walking. I’ll have to do more of that.

|

<~~~ * ~~~>