Don't Tell Me What To Do

Every morning, as soon as my MIL has any indication that we are awake, she parks herself at the kitchen table. And waits. For me to serve her breakfast. She'll get herself some cereal, spills milk on the floor, makes a mess.of the table, and puts her dishes in the sink - even if the dishwasher is ready for dirty dishes. She always puts the dishes in the wrong way - cups and glasses on the bottom rack, plates on the top, or some weird combination of the two. She always has to be told to put the dishes in the dishwasher. She never has been a neatnick, and never really used a dishwasher so its kind of understandable that its not her first thought or that she's not good at it. Dishes aren't her strong suit, Hell cleaning has never been her strong suit... This is nothing new. And she does have Alzheimer Disease (I'm reading The 36 Hour Day and they've taken out the 's out of the name in the 4th edition). After she puts her things near me so that I can clean up after her, she sits down at the table and waits for more food. An egg. And juice. And toast. And her medicine. She just sits there and waits. And if I'm not getting to it fast enough, after all I'm also making breakfast and lunch for Twig and myself (Wood is out of town but he's often part of that equation), she asks of she can have an egg. And watches me make it. She has Alzheimer disease and part of her behavior is annoying because she has a fucked up disease and part of her behavior is annoying because she's living in my house and I don't like most people enough to spend a weekend with them much less live with 'em. But there's more. It's been a greuling week at work and last night I skipped making a full meal for dinner. I offered left overs and promptly parked my ass on the couch with a stiff drink in hand. And she came to the living room asking me for a salad. And followed that up with "I want salad every day" with dinner. There's lettuce in the fridge. "I need cucumbers and tomatoes" every day... I don't have the energy to do a full meal every day. I'd skip meals several times a week if it weren't for the fact that I live with other other people who can't skip meals. She then talks about how she can pay for the salad fixings, contribute to the weekly food budget. Which I explain is very generous and we can work that out another time. But she presses the need for salad ingredients. And I understand! All of it. She needs roughage so she can shit (I get it, I've got bleeding hemmorhoids from eating badly). And she's asking because in reality she's a guest in my home, reliant on me for just about all of her needs. I have to turn on the shower every day because she can't do it on her own. Sequencing, any activity that takes several steps is really hard for her. And I KNOW its her disease. And I STILL feel like she's telling me what to do, how to do it, and when. I ABSOLUTELY HATE to be told what to do in that "you're obligated, bound to it because I said so kind of way". And when I'm completely overwhelmed, overextended, overtired AND doing Twig and Grammy care alone and my full-time FUCKING JOB is Grammy care and I'm doing both with too few resources: hands on deck support, money, hours in the day, etc. It doesn't take long for me to feel like the slightest expectation of me is a provocation and at best feel bitchy or at worst act badly. Jeezus, this has only begun. Right now, all I wanna do is run! But I gotta get up and make breakfast.

Self Care

Once upon a time I told my mom that the should start planning for her old age because when she got there she would not be invited to come live with me. The way she saw it, my statement was as an affront, that I didn't like her, perhaps I didn't love her. The way I saw it was that I had lived with her before and know the limits of my personality when mixed with hers. Fast forward about 15 years or so and pretty much 5 minutes after meeting my mother-in-law the same feeling welled up in me something fierce.

And yet, 10 or so years later, I find myself living with my mother-in-law.

What changed?

She did. I did.

I can no longer get on the institutional bandwagon. After spending an entire career supporting people with disabilities and seniors to live in the community, asking either of our mothers to live in an institution when we could semi-reasonably attend to their needs seems a bit hypocritical, no? And frankly, I've grown up a bit and believe that its a monumentally important task and learning opportunity for the parent, the adult children and the grandchild. Intense as it may be - I fully expect for it to be overwhelmingly okay until it's not - it will be one Hell of a learning event. Respect for your elders, familial care/love, self care, circle of life...

In true social worker fashion, I've already identified support groups for caregivers, Alzheimers specific groups, told my husband that he's absolutely REQUIRED to attend (anyone who really know me knows that I demand little beyond basic respect from people), have looked into hiring a housekeeper for the chores, hired a part time caregiver for the non-program days Grammy is home alone, talked with my employer about her needs, and will continue to put necessary pieces in place to make this good for everyone - at least as good as it can be.

I have certainly fallen into my typical coping mechanism patterns of sugar/pastry in all its forms, coffee (periodically), insomnia, and no exercise. I give myself permission to do these things because something's gotta give. NARF is correct, I am not Super Woman (but, achem, I'm pretty freaking awesome in what I do accomplish) and I know I have to take care of my health too! I have a plan, and I will develop it more fully soon. Right. after I plan my weekend away. Oh yeah! I'm going to need my alone time periodically - to cry uncontrollably, sleep, have physical space from people, to not be accessible - to be off "needed" duty for a while. I've known for years in the deep depths of my soul that this time would come. Not the details, but that I would be here and now as a caregiver, that I would have my own set of needs. And way back when I knew that I'd check out of my caregiving duties and into a hotel to relax, recharge, reboot my systems.

No time like the present, right? I think I'll be making that reservation today!

Long Time No Write

I periodically get an email from Sitemeter that gives me an overview of the activity related to this here blog. One showed up bright and early this morning and since I usually wake up before anyone else, I took a look at the stats. Something strange is going on! I haven't actually written anything and posted here on almost 8 months. Eight months! And despite that, My Lady had 25 visits last week. Downright impressive that she's been working so hard and hasn't even been trying.

All kidding aside, it has been a long time since I've taken the time to write. And wouldn't you know it if the past 8 months have been such that I could have used a visit with my Nice Lady.

In the interest of time (and the fact that I'm writing this from bed on an Android phone with my over tired 6.75 year old sleeping peacefully next to me), here's what I've been up to:

Hubbie's started a new Job - in another state.
Was a single parent for 3 months.
Managed updates and remodel of our bathroom in preparation for out of state move. While working full time.
Hired moving company.
Packed house.
Rented said house out.
Moved out of state.
Unpacked house.
Started Twig at a new school.
Worked part-time remotely and finished a couple of work projects.
Had visitors from home. (notice very big smile on my face).
Volunteered at school, took the boy to swimming lessons, and the playground after school, kept house, met my husband for lunch once a week, exercised daily, made new friends, settled into our new life and started to enjoy a slower pace.
Got a new job. Started working full-time. about two weeks before summer started.
Set Twig up for summer camp. Took on single parenting while Hubbie's been out of town for work.
Attempted to get 68 year old Mother-in-Law with early onset Alzheimers Disease living in LA admitted to Assisted Living facility in my new town of Portland, OR. Which did not happen. She's living with us now. In our two bedroom 900 square foot rental.

I always swore that I'd be the only mother living in my house. Those words are now biting me in the ass! I want to do the right thing, and I (we) will. And three weeks in, I'm realizing just how hard its going to be.

I need a Nice Lady like never before. See you soon, I hope.