One final act of defamation.
Things have been going pretty good around here this last week. Mom has been slowly but steadily moving out of "No!" territory (my caregiving Achilles heel), with less outward fear and hostility towards her pack of caregiving girls - making our jobs much, much easier and enjoyable, and keeping my blood pressure spikes to a minimum.
I wouldn't say we've hit another dementia upswing, but the current dementia terrain has been fairly smooth - no precipitous fissures opening up under my feet to free-fall into caregiver fury, no sudden geyser spewing caregiver stress and strain that sizzles acid-like on my tentative hold on well-being.
She even voluntarily danced with me this morning! Although there is a perversion in my personality that rather prefers force dancing the crap out of her instead.
Still, when we were rejected for hospice admission last month, an indicator that we are not within a probable 6-month departure of Mom from this life, my first thought was, "That old woman's gonna put me in my grave."
So, I've decided that upon my death, whether it be prior to Mom's demise, or years and years later from some disease we could all see coming a decade away due to my excessive indulgence in all things morally and physically ruinous (just so much more fun!), I proclaim to you all, right here, right now, that the official "Cause of Death" on my Death Certificate shall read:
Yes, they both live with us currently. We have been desperately trying to keep them together under the same roof, but their disabilities seem to compound everyday difficulties in such a way as to make us question whether it is actually the best option for all involved. It's certainly taking its toll on me.
We've recently begun investigating assisted living options in our area, thinking it may be better for everyone if my mom moves into her own "apartment" nearby. It just seems like a bizarre option to consider for someone at her young age. But then again, much of this experience has been just that - bizarre. :)
That is quite a load. Are they both living with you and your husband?
Oh, 100%. At times it feels like our home is an insane asylum and we’ve all lost our damn minds. All you can do is laugh and take it a day at a time. :)
Two years ago my husband and I became the primary caregivers for my mom (diagnosed with Alz @ 54 years old) and my sister (30 years old with Down Syndrome).
While our situations are obviously different, I’ve loved reading your posts and finding the commonalities.
Oh, Meg, we'd be lost around here without that sense of humor Mom and Dad gifted to us! I figured out early on that I couldn't live in the tragedy of this disease all the time, which I think a lot of dementia folks and family members (understandably) do in the beginning. So we went business-as-usual around here, and have continued to tease, pester, love, and laugh with (and at) Mom every chance we get.
I saw an Instagram post today from a guy who force hugs his dementia grandma, his message being that he annoyed her with love his whole life and he's not about to stop now - it made me chuckle! That's kind of our strategy too.
I found your blog last night and I’ve since read almost every post. Your honesty and sense of humor are such a comfort and relief. Thanks for sharing your story!