This is one of the saddest days of my life. My mother has had to be moved to a nursing home. Which would be fine if she were happy there. But she's not. She's miserable. Not because they're not treating her well. The problem is more complicated than that. The problem is partly that she's in pain, but that's not it. She feels trapped, having lost control of her life, unable to escape, unable to make her own decisions, unable to look after herself.
It's not unusual for my mother to be unhappy. For most of my life she's been unhappy. So chronically unhappy that it becomes painful to be with her. But this is different. She's paranoid, convinced everyone is out to get her, that the nursing staff are going to experiment on her, that their deliberately trying to make her uncomfortable.
Can you see a pattern here? I think Mum is beginning to lose the plot. Not that she's ever been especially rational or balanced. But I think she may be beginning to manifest the early signs of dementia.
Perhaps I'm being a bit self-centred, but when I left the nursing home today all I could think was how lonely I am. I've always been alone, I suppose. But suddenly I feel I desperately need a friend to share my sense of loss. But there isn't a single soul who I can turn to for support. I'm more alone now than I have ever been before in my life.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
I know it's been a while.
OK, OK, I know haven't posted anything for a LONG time. I've been busy, all right? You know, making a living, paying the bills and so on. Doesn't mean I don't care.
Where to start... office politics, state politics, federal politics? No? Art? Not really. How about I tell you about my dog?
He's an old bloke now, lost most of his vivacity and joi de vivre. Still love him, though. He had a big operation about a year ago, he had a huge lump under his tail. Vet thought it was probably a carcinoma. So he cut off Mick's tail! He had such a beautiful tail, long and fluffy with a white tip and a white stripe. He used to talk with it. I'd ask him a question and he'd answer "yes" by vigorously wagging. Now I have to guess what he's thinking. A bit hit and miss, but we do understand each other most of the time. The vet also insisted on chopping off his balls. I didn't really think it necessary but I do trust my vet. The trouble is that ever since the big operation Mickey has virtually no control over his bladder. He leaks in his sleep. Then he wakes up, moves and leaves a big wet patch behind. I've been doing more washing in the last year.
I've got similar problems with my mother. She's incontinent, too. But the dog is much less trouble.
Well, the boss has come into the office. He's banging around in the kitchen, making a mess and expressing his frustration at the lack of fresh milk by making a lot of noise. He could go and buy some milk but he's much too lazy to do that. So I'll log off now and get to work (not that its my job to buy the milk but God forbid that the PA should be asked to do it!).
Where to start... office politics, state politics, federal politics? No? Art? Not really. How about I tell you about my dog?
He's an old bloke now, lost most of his vivacity and joi de vivre. Still love him, though. He had a big operation about a year ago, he had a huge lump under his tail. Vet thought it was probably a carcinoma. So he cut off Mick's tail! He had such a beautiful tail, long and fluffy with a white tip and a white stripe. He used to talk with it. I'd ask him a question and he'd answer "yes" by vigorously wagging. Now I have to guess what he's thinking. A bit hit and miss, but we do understand each other most of the time. The vet also insisted on chopping off his balls. I didn't really think it necessary but I do trust my vet. The trouble is that ever since the big operation Mickey has virtually no control over his bladder. He leaks in his sleep. Then he wakes up, moves and leaves a big wet patch behind. I've been doing more washing in the last year.
I've got similar problems with my mother. She's incontinent, too. But the dog is much less trouble.
Well, the boss has come into the office. He's banging around in the kitchen, making a mess and expressing his frustration at the lack of fresh milk by making a lot of noise. He could go and buy some milk but he's much too lazy to do that. So I'll log off now and get to work (not that its my job to buy the milk but God forbid that the PA should be asked to do it!).
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