I've been getting into a routine with Mum, I'm only able to visit once a week, because of work. But it's working and we are getting into the routine, it's just that she doesn't remember any of it lol.
My brother and I are always regaled by stories, none of which are true, that indicate that the other has never visited and she wants to see them. Example, to me she'll say that Anthony never comes and sees me, to him she'll say Cathy never comes and visits me. I'm not sure why she never mentions our younger brother Andrew, maybe she just knows that he can't handle it. I know it's not cause she doesn't remember him, cause she will ask after him, just never complains about him never visiting lol.
She is usually complaining about how I never let her spend any money, or I never take her anywhere. And of course it's the never ending complaint about having run out of something. Mum has always been a big spender on a very small budget. I've had to cut through all the crap that came with taking over her finances before she went into the home and then through the sale of her house. I have money invested for her, all her bills have finally been paid, and have more left to pay for a funeral when the need arises. She got quite a bit of money, not millions or anything like that, when her Mum died, and managed to get through it all in a very short time. Mostly from buying crap that she didn't need, or never used. She did make a big investment in a new car, that subsequently got written off when some idiot ran into me. She had huge plans to remodel her kitchen, it never happened. She wanted to replace carpets, again it never happened. Instead I found virtually no trace of the money, and a personal loan that someone thought was a good idea to give her.
I've waded through reams of receipts, piles of statements, and tiny little notes that make no sense. Now she is in a home, they feed her, care for her, provide her medications, and treat her with respect. All of this is paid for, handled by me. The home took a bond, which is refundable on her death, and I've already mentioned where the rest is. She doesn't have millions, doesn't understand that she can't spend the money she has like she used to and never will. She'll want me to take her grocery shopping, she doesn't need to go, but she always loved buying food to stock her pantry that was filled with so much crap when we were cleaning out the house, I had to take a carload to the tip, it was expired food,so I didn't donate any of it. Her laundry cupboards were bursting at the seams from all the cleaning supplies she had. I never realised cleaning supplies could actually expire, until I cleaned out her cupboards. I have half a cupboard under my kitchen sink, and a shelf in my laundry, but she had 4 big cupboards in the laundry, a double cupboard under the sink in the kitchen, a single cupboard under the sink in the bathroom, oh and a cupboard under the laundry sink, all full. That's excluded the other random places around the house she'd have something. Piles and piles of clothes and shoes, some clothes never worn, 90% of them were donated, I kept 10% for her. In her linen cupboard, she had shelves of linen, but also extra shampoos and conditioners, boxes of tissues, soaps, toothpaste, enough for an apocalypse. I have a bag in my room, filled with shampoos etc, that I just replace her current ones with, and it's still not enough.
I don't know why she did this, none of us kids hoard stuff, well Andrew loves hoarding his books, but at least he can read them, and they don't expire. Last Sunday when I was visiting, she ran through the normal litany of needing shampoo etc, I opened her cupboard and asked her to look and see what she needed. I already knew, but she needs to look, I then made her cross things off on her shopping list. By the time I was through, the list was completely crossed out and just as I knew she needed nothing. It didn't stop her from continuously mentioning what she needed the whole time I was there though. She had clothes jammed into her wardrobe, that could be folded up, so I removed them and put them in her labelled drawers. I set the coat hangers aside to hand to the laundry staff, for reuse, and she got all upset and told me that I couldn't give her hangers away. I explained that I was just giving them to the laundry and that they'd reuse them for her, but she burst into tears and told me that they were hers, she owned them. I shoved them all onto a shelf in the wardrobe. For the record, they aren't hers, they belong to the nursing home, but I'll clear them out when she's not in the room.
She also had a few clothes piled on a chair, I asked if they were laundry as I noticed that there was a couple of new tops in the pile, that she hadn't yet worn. She told me that she had too many clothes and was going to donate them to the charity shop. This is fine, if she wants to donate the clothes she bought, they are going to a good cause, so not a problem. I noticed a jacket in the wardrobe which wasn't hers, she told me she'd bought it from the shop. I asked her why she did that when she had others in there that she actually wore, and were a lot nicer, she said, she needed it, because I never took her shopping or let her spend her money. The clothes in the pile were all clothes we bought when I took her shopping, but I never let her buy anything sigh.
There is absolutely no point in arguing with her, she doesn't get it anymore. Before you could reason with her, she was a very logical person, and hey it was her money, she worked hard for years to get it. But now I'm withholding her money, I'm mean, I've trapped her in a home so I can spend her money. I won't let her have her things, she has her things, well as many as is needed. She has furniture, clothes, a TV (that she will insist doesn't work or belongs to the home, it works and is mine), everything that she needs.
I got the statement from the home, detailing all expenses, and it includes all the money she is spending in this little charity shop. I can't tell them not to let her go there, she's an addict as far as shopping is concerned, and she knows it's a charity shop so feels good about buying something. I'm thankful that they don't sell groceries or cleaning supplies, she'd be buying them for sure lol. They do sell chocolates, and chocolate biscuits, she has a labelled drawer filled with supplies, but each time I visit there is packets of lollies, or biscuits just lying around. In her head she doesn't think to check if she needs anything, she is always surprised when I open a drawer and show her whats in there. The little switch that switches on in us, doesn't switch on in her. She knows the drawers are labelled, but when you point it out, she acts like you just stuck the labels on. And yet she'll tell you she knows they are labelled. It's frustrating and infuriating, it's stress causing, and sad. But what can you do?
My job in customer service means I have to maintain a cheerful attitude all week, as I listen to a litany of complaints against our company or talk to someone who can't understand that you can't do what they want, just because they want it lol. Talking for 30 minutes to someone about how to get their pc to work (that's not my job, but I take the time to guide people through problems) is draining. And then on Sunday, I have to talk to Mum the same. The big difference is that this is my Mum, I shouldn't have to do this. We used to do our grocery shopping together on Saturday mornings, stopping for coffee and cake. Now I have one day to myself, one day to get over the week of work before visiting Mum and putting on the false face again. Alzheimers fucking sucks.
I sometimes wonder if there will come a day when I just walk out and say fuck it, taking off somewhere without my phone, and not telling anyone where I'm going. I know there is a lot of days I want to, but I also know that I won't do that. For one thing it would be selfish for another I'm the sort of person that has to plan things, and I'd have to figure out how to withdraw all my cash, can't use cards when your walking out and saying fuck it lol, then there's the fact I love my bed, I might have to sleep in the car and couldn't do that. I'd be worrying about who was going to feed the cats, and did I remember to say goodbye to the kids (wait can't do that if I'm walking out lol). And mostly I'd be worried about Mum. Sure she's safe were she is, and 90% of the time she doesn't even remember I visited, but I remember. I remember how she was when we were kids, I remember that she gave birth to us, and I remember that she looked after us and made sure we were fed, clothed and housed. So now that's what I have to do, who cares if that was never my plan, it's my life now. Who cares if she thinks I'm mean, who cares if she thinks she needs more damn shampoo. One day I will have that time to myself, one day it will just be me time, one day she will die. In the meantime I'm trapped, but not in a bad way. It's a paying back the woman who provided for me, the woman who was there for me (whether I wanted it or not) kind of way. It's family.
Catch yas
Cathy
