It’s been a while…

It’s been a long time since I last wrote a blog post. I got to the point where blogging had become a chore and I’d forgotten what I was even doing it for.

A lot has happened, a lot is still happening, and I think maybe if I got some of it down, it might help me process things.

I don’t even know where to start.

Mum has Alzheimer’s. She has declined so much over the last two years to the point where she can barely string a sentence together. She can’t go to the bathroom alone, she gets scared if she’s alone for more than a minute or two. The grandchildren she adored and who were her world are now nothing but a noisy irritation to her. She’s not my mum anymore, not really, and it’s horrible.

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My parents are selling their house, my childhood home, and buying a bungalow. Whilst I know this is the best thing for them, I’m sad that they have to. And quite frankly, I’m not sure how mum will cope.

The people I thought might understand and might be there for me, aren’t. I know that people have lives to get on with, I’m not so completely ignorant of that, but sometimes it might be nice for people to involve me, to include me in things where I don’t have to be “on call”. I have elderly parents who need me, I have a husband and children who need me, but I still have feelings, and it seems as though not many people care about them.

I’ve reached a point now that I’ve made a decision.

I’m going to stop trying to fit in where there clearly isn’t room for me. I’m going to stop making the effort. Because I can’t do everything. Getting through each day is struggle enough.

Life-is-too-short

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The Struggle

I’m struggling. I’m feeling down.

Watching your parents get older, and deteriorate is horrible. The people that you’ve always relied on, that have been your back up, suddenly, almost as out of nowhere aren’t the strong ones anymore.

We haven’t got a dementia diagnosis for mum yet, but we are fairly sure we are going to get one. The more reading I do, the more information I find, the more convinced I am.

She’s not though. She thinks it’s just part of old age, and keeps having the same argument with Dad day after day after day about something that happened over 30 years ago, keeps bringing up the face that 45 years ago he forgot something and made a mistake and he didn’t go to the doctors about it.

It’s frustrating. Like, REALLY frustrating, and it’s hard not to lose patience when you’ve been told the same thing 3 times in a fifteen minute period, or asked for the 20th time how long the kids are off school for.

It’s sad. It’s like you are grieving for the mum you used to have, because she isn’t the same person anymore, but she’s still here, she’s still my mum. But then there are these moments where she has clarity, and she is MY mum.

My dad. The one who’s always been the strongest, the one who does the looking after and the caring. He has unstable angina. Heart failure. And he is finding it difficult to cope. Struggling emotionally. Tearful. Not being able to keep calm when he’s been having the same row everyday for months on end. But he’s the carer. the one she relies on. The one who makes sure she has her tablets, and has her insulin and checks her blood sugar, and covers for her more than you realise.

But all of that is his fault apparently. Because he’s always done her tablets, and if she’d been left to do them herself it would have been ok. It wouldn’t have been though, because she would have forgotten to take them, or take them twice. It’s so hard to reason with someone who doesn’t realise they have a problem.

And I don’t know if it’s denial, or if she really believes there isn’t a problem. I don’t know.

I’m struggling. Really struggling. And I can’t see it getting any better.