I feel like some of my creative juices have been running a little bit dry recently. For a while, I was writing two blog posts per day. One is typically a response to my daily prompt; the other would be something more personal, a TV or movie review, or the latest episode of my podcast. I’ve been a little more relaxed with that lately. I’ve actually gotten ahead of myself with the podcast, and now I find I have more time on my hands but less to do.
Having said that, I decided to return to some more pressing stuff in my real life right now.
The Reluctant Return
Phred, Guillaume, and I made a reluctant decision to move Mother back to the house this summer. Primarily, it’s out of financial strain. It’s not as if we’ve been spending Mother‘s money behind her back or doing anything inappropriate with it. The honest-to-God truth is, we didn’t expect her to survive this long.
Seventeen months ago, she was rushed to the hospital. Her COPD was flaring up and her oxygen levels were dangerously low. They ended up putting her on a BiPAP machine for a weekend. What originally required her to go to the hospital was a urinary tract infection. She was having them. We were never told this, but Fred and I are pretty sure that her body was starting to go into sepsis at this point. She spent those two and a half to three days masked up, sleeping almost the entire time. The three of us were at her bedside on more than one occasion because it seemed like those may have been our last days with her. We even went as far as having to go through some of her “final wishes,” like whether or not to medically resuscitate her in the event that she stopped breathing or her heart flatlined.
In our family, Phred holds power of attorney, which makes sense because she has probably been the one directly taking care of Mother more than either Guillaume or I. Still, I have to admit that sometimes I feel a little bit shafted by that. Partially, I think it’s because I’m the youngest of the three kids. But I also know that I’m around and more involved in Mother’s everyday life than Guillaume is. Now, he’s currently claiming that he will be around to help out with her during the summer, since we are all teachers and have the summer off. We’ll see.
Unspoken History and Hard Realities
The truth is, Phred and I haven’t really talked about what happens beyond these next few months. Having Mother at the house while we are both back to working full-time in the fall is completely out of the question. Phred is already looking into other, less expensive assisted living options—places where Mother might get financial assistance because the Old Man was a veteran.
But if I’m being honest, I think Phred just wants to bring her home. When the Old Man got sick eleven years ago, Phred moved back into this house and essentially looked after Mother single-handedly for years while I was away living my life. By the time I returned home just before the pandemic, the caregiving dynamic was already set. Guillaume was thirty minutes away, living his life with his own family. I don’t know if Phred is bringing Mother back so she can finally be at rest, be happy she’s home, and maybe pass peacefully—or if she’s doing it out of a deep sense of unsaid guilt. I think there’s a lot more to it than any of us are openly admitting.
As anyone who has a sick or dying parent knows, it’s tough watching them gradually wither away, for lack of a better term. I see how Mother is living right now, and quite honestly, it’s really not much of a life. Of course, my thoughts go back to how quickly the Old Man passed as soon as he got his cancer diagnosis. If I had to choose, I think I’d rather go out quicker like he did.
Drawing Hard Lines
I haven’t really discussed the idea of having Mother move back in with Phred and me on the blog yet. It’s not something I’m looking forward to. I know that I’m going to be called on around the clock to help care for her. It’s not going to be too big of an inconvenience because I will be around, but obviously I will have Kid 2 every other weekend, and I’m not going to subject him to taking care of his grandmother. Furthermore, Kid 1 is almost certain to want to make a trip to Michigan this summer to see me and his girlfriend. My kids come first. That’s all there is to it. If I get to a point where I realize I have to get my own place again, then I will do that—but we’re not there yet.
I don’t know what my ultimate breaking point will be this summer, but I do know I’ve already drawn one hard line. I told Phred I am absolutely still planning my East Coast baseball road trip for late July. I haven’t put money down yet, but I am doing it. In fact, the looming reality of Mother returning home might be the exact spark I need to finally pull the trigger and book the damn things. I need that buffer.
I know this is gonna sound pretty harsh, because I don’t wish death upon my mother by any stretch of the imagination, but at the same time, I don’t really view what she’s doing as living her life. I’ve learned a lot over these last 18 months about care for the elderly. I’m not suggesting medically assisted suicide, but I do feel for these people.
I feel even worse knowing that either Phred, or I, or both of us, have been in to see my mom almost every single day since she first went into assisted living. Thinking about the time I spent just driving back and forth—this has been a very expensive endeavor, to say nothing of what Mother has paid out-of-pocket.
In a lot of ways, I kind of feel like a young person moving back home from college for the first time. It’s hard to go back to having a parent in the house. And I think it’s even more awkward for the parent, knowing that their adult children don’t need them to take care of them anymore. In fact, it’s become a “second childhood” situation where we are the ones doing the caregiving.
Fighting Ghosts
But there’s an extra layer of frustration to it for me. Like a lot of parents, Mother has always viewed her kids as just that—kids. Me in particular. I don’t think she ever fully internalized the fact that I grew up, got married, had children of my own, and lived an entire adult life. With her dementia fluctuating the way it does, I can’t expect her to know the difference now, but the underlying resentment is real. I’ve carried a lot of anger toward her because I’ve never felt like she truly respected me as an adult.
I know I’ve leaned on her financially in the past, but between taking over her van and tackling the structural maintenance around this house, I am actively reclaiming my independence. Still, that lack of respect bites. It’s an anger I know I need to come to terms with quickly, because she will be gone one day, and the last thing I want is to be left fighting a ghost, carrying resentments against someone who is no longer here.
The Release Valve: Rebuilding with intention means knowing when you need an escape. Once you’ve read about the weight of the summer ahead, check out the flip side of the coin in my companion post, Trigger Locked: Blueprints, Ballparks, and the Open Road, to see the exact blueprint I’m using to claim my independence on the highway.
Rebuilding a life takes grit, consistency, and a lot of ‘Option C’ thinking. Whether I’m closing in on 1,000 consecutive days of blogging or reflecting on the decade of work that brought me here, the mission remains the same: No glitz. Just the work. New to the blog? Start your journey here to see the blueprint and the ‘Tricorder’ perspective behind the rebuild.
Today’s post is inspired by the WordPress Daily Prompt. While I’ve taken the topic in my own direction for the Road to 1,000 Days, you can find more responses to today’s prompt HERE.
Thanks for stopping by Rebuilding Rob. Be sure to like 👍, comment and subscribe below. It’s greatly appreciated! Also, feel free to follow me on social media and check out my recent posts!
- Fighting Ghosts: Caregiving, Anger, and Independence
- Trigger Locked: Blueprints, Ballparks, and the Open Road
- Stronger Than I Seem
- The Rise N Grind Sensation (or: How I Learned to Start Breaking Beans)
- The Sensation of Reconnection
Image courtesy of FabrikaCr / Getty Images
The article “Fighting Ghosts: Caregiving, Anger, and Independence” first appeared in Rebuilding Rob.
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