Worst visit ever!!!!
I had to cut my visit short this week, while I think I'm strong and can handle anything life throws at me, today was just too much for me. I need time to absorb and recharge, time to get back to normal as the tough bitch I am.
First, stupid covid, masks back on inside, and as per email received could visit in their room or in the small courtyard outside. I opted for courtyard cause, hello, outside. A couple of other visitors did the same, although the nurse tried to tell us we couldn't, we both quoted the email we'd received to say we couldn't. We social distanced, we masked up, we weren't hugging or anything. So sitting there chatting and some registrar or whatever comes out and says, as per out email, blah blah only visiting in rooms. So I said, sorry, but that's not what my emails says, and the other visitors actually had a copy of the email sent, so we sent him on his way. Lets be honest here, in the courtyard, there was 2 residents, and 3 visitors, not all sitting together, and there was room for many more even if they were social distancing. Anyway, he goes off after seeing the copy of the email, leaving us alone, but he wasn't done. Comes back with his copy and because it was sent after ours, he announces that his supersedes ours. Okay, whatever, I should have printed off my email, as it was actually dated after his, but yes sir, no sir, 3 bags full sir.
Let me just go back to being outside, first. So we are chatting away, Mum asking where her parents are, and when is her aunt coming back to visit (all dead for years) and I filled her in, yet again on their deaths, and she was, "Oh, wish I'd gotten to go to the funerals" which led to me telling her she did lol. I then had to tell her about her cousins who'd died, one had died well before she moved into the home, the other, just after.
"But they were so young." she exclaimed
"Yes, your generation, but they didn't live to the same age as you, 85."
"Who's 85?"
"You are Mum."
"Oh, so my Mum is 85?"
"No, you are."
"But aren't you my sister?"
And that was it, heart fucking breaking, so loud I'm sure all of Australia at least heard it. Determinedly I soldiered on.
"No, I'm Cathy, your daughter."
"Oh, am I going home, I miss seeing my kids?"
"Mum, sorry, but this is your home now. I'm your daughter."
It's hard to be sure, but I don't think she got it. She asked again about going home to see her kids, and again I told her this is her home. Then she moved on and started talking about how her father was building her a house.
"Dad is going to build over behind that orange building, he has a block of land there that he bought with some of the money he got for inventing the car lift thing. You know, the thing that you put cars on so you can work under them."
"Car hoist?"
"Yes, that's it, so the rest of the money he'll use to build me a house, so I can live there. How long will that take? Can I go home yet."
I know Eddie (my grandfather) was a tinkerer and invented a few things that he never took out patents on, but pretty sure car hoist wasn't one of them.
It was at that point in our convo that the registrar dude returned to rain on our parade. So off we went to Mum's room.
I shouldn't be surprised when I go in there, but each time I do, it's gut wrenching. The photos that we'd taken back out of drawers, last visit, were back in them. The bathroom stuff was all sitting in a bag on her dresser, presumably so it was ready to take.
"I've started packing, because I'm going home."
"Mum, no, you aren't going home."
"Why? I need to be with my family. Who am I married to again.?"
"You're divorced Mum, but you were married to Neville."
"Is he dead? You'd think he'd visit if he wasn't dead."
"No, Mum he's not dead."
"Well, I need to be home, I know the kids will have school and I haven't taught for a long time, but we'll work it out."
As I unpacked and put away, toothbrush and toothpaste number 5 (that's how many of each she has not a brand) I struggled. I wanted to cry, but I felt angry, I was feeling angry at her, and that is not right. She doesn't deserve my anger, I knew that I couldn't just put all the shit away, and all the photos back, and then sit down for a chat. I had to finish up and go home.
I tidied her room, put everything back, told her that no I didn't want a stuffed animal to take home. And walked her out to the dining room where they were setting up coffee and biscuits for the residents. She tried to walk out with me, and I told her she wasn't allowed, and that she should go and sit down. Even though she protested, she had her eyes on the prize, that's coffee and biscuits to the rest of us.
I punched in the code to get out, and ripped off the fucking mask so I could breathe. I can breathe with one on, but when you are hanging on by a thread, you need to be able to take big calming breaths, and that's not possible for me in a mask. I sat in the car and just cried, Alzheimer's is the fucking worst thing in the world. At least to me. You are fine physically, but the mind has just gone. the person still looks the same, but the person you knew is gone. And they aren't ever coming back.
As I sat there, I realised something else, while she smiled at me, when I walked in, there was no sign of recognition. She smiled because I smiled, and headed for her, she didn't know who I was, and not once did she call me by name, despite me calling her Mum, over and over. To her I was a nice person visiting with chocolate and cake lol. The total cruelty of this disease is that next time I visit, she'll probably be completely different. She'll know who I am, at least. I know times like this will get more frequent, until this will be the day to day reality. She'll stop asking about going home, she'll forget even her Mum and Dad, she may welcome a visit, but it will be a stranger visiting. But I'll continue to visit. I did make a decision after my last visit, not to push myself into going every weekend. Yeh, yeh, terrible daughter, blah blah, shut the fuck up. I'm no good to either of us, if I push myself beyond what I can endure, so this is me, doing what I have to, so that I can be there for her, whether she knows me, or not.
Catch yas
Cathy
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