It's been an emotionally overwhelming weekend, as I'm waiting for my mother's health to stabilize and for myself to be able to control my own sadness. Ask me how my mom is, and I'll break down in tears. Ask me how I am and I'll start sobbing. Ask me how my family are enjoying their vacation in Hawaii, and I'll weep. Possibly none of it is rational, and yet I can't control my own emotions for long enough to answer without a quiver in my voice or salty tears streaming down my face. So, here I am putting perspective into writing instead.
How's my mom?
I felt by Thursday that my mother might be on the mend. Indeed, her vitals were stabilized and she was transferred to the main patient floor at Anna Laberge Hospital on Tuesday as per my previous post. She promised to do her best to rehabilitate, to take her meds, to eat and try to sit and then to walk. I took a day off from visiting my mother on Friday, in order to spend a day with my kids before they left on vacation. On Saturday afternoon I returned to the hospital expecting to see some improvement and instead arrived to find my mother delirious. She spoke repeatedly about her dreams and how confused she was between them and reality. She asked if her favourite singer in Japan was alive or dead, and how she looked forward to seeing him again in Kohaku Utagassen (a Japanese New Year singing competition). On multiple occasions she mentioned that having lived past 80, that was good enough, so she could die now. I gently turned the conversation around to how if she wanted to see this New Year program, she had to get better. I told her how my brother and I wanted to travel with her to Japan, and this got her to agree that yes, ikitai - she wanted to go back one last time. She wanted to see her best friend Higashiyama-san, but then she confused the image of this friend with how she appeared back in their childhood. She asked me if her older sister Masako was still alive (she is), when her mother passed away (long before I was born), was I married (ummm, yes). She spoke about her home in Chigasaki, Japan, and had I ever been there (we all actually spent a year there as a family while my brother and I obtained our education through correspondence school, the equivalent of distance learning in the '80s)? Much of the conversation was disjointed and repetitive. And then periodically she would seem lucid and ask how my kids were, ask how long it took me to drive to the hospital from home, tell me how kind the hospital staff were. As with every visit, I urged her to eat, asked her to take her meds, asked her to try sitting up by herself, urged her to make an effort. She called me bossy, asked if I only went to the hospital to be mean to her, whined that she would make an effort when she was good and ready. She refused her meds, and over the course of 2 hours of effort, only ate about 1 teaspoon of food. I went home emotionally exhausted.
Tonight (Sunday)'s visit was a slight improvement from yesterday. It began with my mother crying out deliriously about not wanting me to see her as she was (she thought she was naked when in fact she was in bed clothed and covered in blankets). It included my visit to the attending nurse in the hallway and breaking down in tears when she informed me that my mother had once again refused her meds and declared "I want to die." My mother saw my teary face when I went back into her room and something must have clicked because tonight, when I implored her to swallow her meds because I just wanted her to get better, she took them. It took close to 10 minutes for her to swallow the tablespoon of applesauce with crushed pills (she would alternate small amounts of this applesauce with coconut pudding), but she continued until she scraped the applesauce container with her spoon and looked at me proudly as if to say "See? I can do it!" She ate a tiny amount of pasta and broccoli, had 2 licks of soup, sipped gingerly at her tea. She drank the equivalent of a Dixie cup in miso soup I took her from home. This was serious progress! Our conversation was stilted once again, and she focused a lot on her childhood yet again, asking me if this or that person was still alive, and did I know her sister Kazuko? Am I getting used to driving yet (she thought I was 16 again)? Lucid moments like: "Oh, you'd better get going soon. It takes you 30 minutes to get home." Funny moments such as when I grimaced distastefully as she picked up pasta & meat sauce with her fingers, and she declared: "In Japan, they say that once you turn 80 you become a baby again. It's okay. I'm just being a baby." Eye-raising moments such as when she pointed at the picture of the dog on the cupboards (There was no picture on the cupboards. There was nothing on the white, clean cupboards.) While I believe she most definitely has dementia, I also believe that her lack of nutrition and balanced medication is causing serious levels of confusion. À suivre.
How am I?
I am still an emotional mess, and as I type this tonight, my eyes are raw, red and puffy from crying, wiping, rubbing. I wake up, have my daily cry, weep at every sad thought that enters my mind. Cry as I scroll through Facebook and see everyone's lovely vacation pics. Daily visits are exhausting emotionally because I am constantly trying to process what my mother is saying, always trying to remember to bring her latest request to her (socks, blanket, hairbrush, tissues, candy, etc.), figuring out ways to get the message through to her that I care about her and want her to eat, to medicate, to stand. She switches from complacency to having the twinkle in her eye that gives me hope. I'm trying to think in advance about obtaining a Power of Attorney, finding her will, researching assisted living and/or palliative care facilities, what food to make her next that she might eat, what questions to ask her doctor or nurse on the next visit. My mind is always racing and my sleep is poor. And yet I make sure to eat, because my daughter is checking in on me, making me send photos of my meals to her. She is heaven-sent.
I have an incredible network of friends who have been checking in via emails, texts, messages, calls. And yet I feel too exhausted to reply beyond a "thank you", and too ugly to see anyone in person. Despite this, I have let in one close group of friends who are a gang of 4 couples including myself. We spent a few hours in one of their backyards on Saturday night, all 4 couples except my husband Mark. He knew they were looking after me, so this gave him some comfort thousands of miles away. A bit of the hollowness of existence disappears with good friends and sangria.
2 of my girlfriends helped me clean my mother's apartment in case she might eventually return there. Blood and urine scrubbed off the floors, bookshelf built (I purchased one on which to place the overflow of papers, trinkets and photos that were in piles, furniture moved, boxes and stuff organized). Here is one view of the finished product of our 3 hours of cleaning & tidying:
I go through waves of sadness and raw emotion from the overwhelm. I need to find better coping mechanisms than simply trying to keep busy or to wallow in misery while scrolling social media. I have an appointment with a therapist tomorrow morning, because I need to find the balance that is so important to my existence. I feel imbalanced, uncontrolled, unsure when the next wave will hit and how to cope. Tired of crying, tired of talking, tired...
How's my fam in Hawaii?
They arrived safely, 7 members representing 3 generations, a smooth trip. No checked in luggage = no luggage lost. Beautiful house rented with a pool in the backyard and the ocean a short drive away. Here was their first sunset from the back of the house:
My daughter has called me twice a day, checks in on me regularly via Snapchat.
On their first evening they delighted in the fact that a healthy and quick meal could be purchased from 7-Eleven (unheard of anywhere else in North America). They bought provisions from Costco and started planning for daily excursions. The weather looks beautiful and sunny. I miss them, and yet I feel included in their lives because they update me. I can imagine the waves, the sand, the sun, the food. I may not be there in person but I hope they feel my presence in spirit. I hope they enjoy their well-earned vacation fully and share all of their stories, videos and photos when they return.
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