My friend Jane says that it's the hate that keeps my mom going. And I have to agree. My sister reported over the weekend that #1 caregiver says that mom is moving into a calmer stage of life. I had to agree somewhat, until the next day when the weekend caregiver quit because it was too difficult for her, mentally. I told her that I understood and was sorry and grateful for the care she'd given her.
The next day I went to my mom's place early to greet and orient the new caregiver. Mom was super nice to her until the end of the day, when she heeded my earlier warning and gave mom space when she got wiggy.
I visited yesterday, and mom was totally zonked out. She napped on my shoulder while I caught up with #1. Eventually she woke up, looked out the window and said "I like to look out this window...but it needs to be washed" She followed this up with "I think that this table is so beautiful...when it's clean. Don't you want to clean it?" #1 and I laughed. No, actually, we don't want to dust her table.
Whatever, mom.
This evening I missed a text while we were watching Suits. Apparently mom had a tantrum while she was being assisted on the john. Fighting, biting, etc. Then she farted so loudly that it could be heard in the next room, and the force of the fart apparently blew open a hemorrhoid. Lots of blood, a call to the doctor...
More laughs (and farts) from the fun factory.
After a volley of texts with my siblings I consulted the Magic 8 Ball -- "Will my mom die soon?"
"Yes, definitely" it said.
But as long as there are people to hate and things to despise she will live another day.
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