Limited Sanity

I’m starting to lose my shit.

Call it “caregiver burnout” or whatever you want to label it, but it’s here and it’s strong. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother and I wouldn’t want anyone else taking care of her like this, but at the same time, I need a freaking break.

Dealing with her most days is like dealing with a toddler. Multiply that by 10 fold when she’s on her morphine and lorazepam mixture. I’ve been here for over a month now at this point, with the exception of 3 nights when I flew home for a quick trip. Every single day, I tell her “Do not get out of this bed without help or letting me know so I can move things out of the way.” It falls on deaf fucking ears, even when she’s completely lucid. I don’t know if it’s her stubborn and prideful side trying to still do things on her own or what the deal is, but I’m about to tie her ass to her bed.

Another fun things she’s been doing is not needing a damn thing until I’m on the phone and usually talking to D. Or she’ll try and chime into the conversation, but I can’t hear her because I’m talking so I’ll have to stop what I’m doing so I can ask her “what” and go from there. She’ll make little snide comments like “Nick (my brother) would be so upset if he knew how long you were on the phone and not watching your mama” or anytime I’m on my phone, texting, talking, or playing a game, must be D keeping my attention. Oh, another fun one… “it was cleaner when Jen was here.” My friend Jen is the one who stayed for a few extra days so I could go home and get more of my things. Now I’m not the cleanest of clean freaks out there, but I’ve been doing daily laundry, dishes, caring for the dogs, and trying to keep my shit together. I can’t pack any more because she’ll tell me I’m packing her life away, yet bitch when this place looks like a hoarder mess. Not quite that bad, but there is shit everywhere and would be so much better in a box, ready for storage or whatever.

I didn’t think I’d be here this long. I’m really happy for the extra time with her, but I’m also missing my life, my family. I really don’t know how people do this professionally. Maybe it’s easier when it’s not a family member? I’m not wishing for her to die, but having a better idea of a timeline would be nice.

Living in Limbo is like purgatory. Every day I wake up in a panic from either mom trying to use the bathroom on her own and she’s laying in bed panting because she can’t breathe… or panic because I’m worried I’m going to wake up and she’s no longer breathing. I try napping throughout the day when she’s sleeping, but I’m also working while I’m out here so Monday – Friday that’s damn near impossible. Evenings are a bit more calm, but there have been panic nights as well, filled with breathing treatments, morphine, lorazepam, and constant reminders of breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth. I can at least now change her and her bedding by myself and without needing to remove her from the bed, so that’s nice.

T-minus 2 days until D and kiddo are here. Assuming her mother doesn’t do something to make that impossible. That’s a whole other entry on that crazy happening. I can’t wait to see them. I’m also really nervous for D to come because then he’ll see how we’ve been living, mom’s apartment, etc – all of which is super unconventional but we make due. I just hope that we’re able to actually enjoy time with each other and I can let worry go to the side for a little while.

I ordered 20 boxes to be shipped here next week so I can get serious about packing things and keeping busy. Either mom is dying or she’s going to live long enough to travel back to Iowa – either way the shit needs to be packed and I need to keep busy before I really lose my shit.

Here’s to another day!